#they are expensive but seems like they are made by a very small team that is also on etsy so the price makes more sense

[bunnyheritageposts]

new pride flag dropped

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: Lights and Camera

"There he is," Tim whispered, looking out from behind the library bookshelves. Besides him, Bart, Kon, and Cassie lean over him, stacking each head on top of each other so they can adequately see who Tim is pointing out.

Across the libary, Babs shales her head with a sigh but doesn't call them out. For one, it would be unnecessary loud and another....well, she enjoys having blackmail on her vigilante coworkers and the Young Jutice team climbing on top of each other to stare at a random civilian was the good kind. She turns back to her list of books to stamp and scan back into the system.

Tim had mentioned seeing someone he wanted to recruit for his and his teammates' fake online clothes store. It was the cover the teens had come up with, for an explanation on how they all had such different backgrounds but had still become friends.

The other bats thought it was a mere cover, but Babs knew how seriously Tim took his fake store. It was mostly due to Tim's team making very realistic cosplay outfits that are commissioned to their site. Since they catered to such a nitch community Tim wanted each job to be perfect. (Also he's a nerd like that)

Or maybe it had everything to do with Tim's not-so-secret adoration of photography.

Bart made the clothes, Cassie and Conner modeled and Tim took all the photos. It helped that the speedster was used to making clothes in the post-apocalyptic future, but no one could deny his master of the needle. Cassie and Conner were both rather good looking, and they seemed perfectly fine with showing off this fact.

The thing is, their store is starting to gain traction. If it weren't for the fact, Bart could move as fast as he could, Just Us fashion would be behind orders for months.

Tim was worried someone would catch on and figured they should attempt to hire a co-tailor. They attempted to reach out to fellow heros but no one their age was interested and they seemed rather put off by the idea of asking a adult.

Everyone was still tense from the last time Young Justice asked the Justice League for help.

Tim then decided to attempt to find a civilian who would help them with smaller pieces. Or maybe someone he could throw in front of a camera and pretend Conner or Cassie had taken a step back from modeling to help out with the orders.

His team allowed him to search for someone since they had no idea where to start. Tim scouted through all of Gotham, and ended up landing on Danny Fenton.

Babs had looked into Fenton's background as a favor to Tim and to satisfy her own curiosity. There wasn't much to the boy. Born and raised in a small town in Illinois, Fenton dropped out of high school to get his GED around his junior year. The notes on his file by his English teacher, principal, and school counselor indicated he was bullied out of school.

He passed the exam on the first try and, within a year, moved four states away to join Gotham School of Arts with a major in fashion. His parents were certified geniuses with a family company working in security and "ecto-entities." His sister was going to Gotham University for a physiology major.

The Fentons are a comfortable upper middle class family with no criminal history; the only blemish on their record is Jack Fenton's speeding tickets.

Fenton lived in the better parts of the city, paying his way through college and his own expenses by working as a remote tech support for various companies. It seemed he had inherited a knack for computers from his parents.

Barbara wasn't sure what about Fenton stuck out to Tim. The boy barely participated in public events when it came to his fashion. He only turned in assignments, and unless Tim made a habit of walking through the school of arts, he would have never seen his work.

"Wait, is he wearing-?" Conner whispered, squinting at Fenton, who was tapping away on his laptop. "He is! That's Flame-Flame battle pants!"

"No way." Bart gasps, standing on his toes to lean closer. "They look so good! Where did he get them?"

"He made them," Tim says with a certain lift to his voice that Babs recognizes easily. Aw, her little computer partner has a crush. "He makes all kind of fandom merch that can be worn out in public."

"Tim, we got get him on the team. Look at that Flame-Flames sweatshirt! I need it" Cassie hisses, rocking in place. She nearly causes Conner- who was leaning on her- to tumble over. "Go talk to him."

"I can't"

At that, Babs glances up. She's never heard Tim be nervous to speak to anyone before. Yet that's what she finds as the Young Justice team disappear aroudn the coner surrounding a red face Tim.

"What do you mean you can't? Why not?" Conner asks

"Look, I already tried to recruit him but messed up my pitch." As he admits, Tim kicks his feet, not bothering to look anyone in the eye. When he locked eyes with me, I choked on my spit midsentence."

Cassie slaps a hand over her mouth, but she is not fast enough to hide the snicker that slips through. The glare she gets from the only regular human could have sent her to her uncle Hades. "I'm sorry, you choked on your spit? Mr. CEO of WE? Mr. Suave? Mr. New Lover, every other Tuesday?"

"Shut up you don't get it! He was dressed in a really cool outfit of the Ninjas of Konoha, okay!? I wasn't prepared."

Barbara glances at Fenton as the team attempts to tease Tim. Rather loudly. It's like they forget they are in a really old building, so the acoustics pick up their voices really easily.

Based on his blushing face and hunched-over form, Fenton can obviously hear them. He keeps sending short glances to the shelf the other teens hide in. Fenton glances at his computer screen before rapidly fixing up his hair and straightening his clothes.

He fixes his scattered papers just as Tim rounds the corner of the bookshelves, looking rather nervous as he scoots to Fenton's desk. Babs watches the remaining young juice team whisper and shout encouragement as Tim stands next to Fenton.

Fenton's face, if possible, go even redder, and much to Babs' shock, he even starts to twirl the end of his ponytail around his figure as Tim starts talking.

This is cute. She thinks, aiming her camera phone at the pair. Taking three different shots, each displaying Tim's fumbling mess and Fenton's obvious interest, she quickly sends it to the bats with an evil smirk. And sort of pathetic.

She gets answers instantly, almost everyone teasing Tim or making "They grow up so fast" comments. The messages make a warm feeling of the family burn in her chest, reminding her of all that they argue about; the Bats truly care for one another.

It's Bruce's thoughts that shatters the chat with a simple text.

Why is Tim flirting with the Ghost King?

Babrbara stares at the words for a long moment before she types

Babs: What do you mean? Who's the Ghost King?

Bruce: That's the Ghost King or his human form. He rules the ghosts and our flip dimension. The Justice League Dark has him marked as a level 15 threat.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon? There are only five other beings on that threat level.

Bruce: Exactly. Tim knows not to speak to him.

Steph: Ugh Bruce none of ous knew that.

Bruce: He was in the yearly safety warning PowerPoint. You all said you reviewed it.

Jason: That thing is nine hours long! Of course, not all of us would actually look through it.

Bruce: I worked very hard on it. :'(

Duke: Guys? Shouldn't we worry about Tim? I mean is the Ghost King going to hurt him

Bruce: No, he's known to be very benevolent. Just as long as you don't accidently insult him.

"I'm not a whore!" The voice cuts through the air like a bullet. Barbara glances up just in time to see Tim backing up with a panicked expression as Fenton sneers.

He quickly gathers his things with a flick of his wrist, having all left in a bright green glow, and pushes by the shuttering vigilante. He stomps his way out of the library with an inhuman growl.

Tim throws his face into his hands with a wail of dispair. "I should have never listen to Dick's flirting advice!"

Barbara slaps a head over her forehead before texting the rest. So Tim may have called the King a whore.

Bruce: This is why I ask you to read my safety PowerPoint.

[just-jordie-things]

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game.  Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going.  It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own? 

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them.  Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day.  Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate.  Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to.  (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain.  They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time.  They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games.  Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?” 

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear.  His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to.  It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends.  He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype.  (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye.  She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more.  “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said.  It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game.  He didn’t need to know that part.  “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard.  (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.  “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking.  Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring.  Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen.  (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time.  She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again.  Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action.  However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen.  The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them.  It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes.  Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts.  This was like a dream come true.  The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval.  He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n).  Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n).  His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?” 

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko.  It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face.  And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens.  The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in.  Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone.  He scowled back at her.  She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands.  He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention.  He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors.  She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field.  “You wanna go after him? Be my guest” 

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters.  “What even happened?” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off.  “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?” 

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea.  A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off.  Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves.  It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next. 

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands.  Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively.  Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks.  “You’re totally not pouting right now.  C’mon just fess up.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting.  My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats.  “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?” 

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically.  (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!” 

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor.  (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her.  “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested.  “You’re mad about a kiss?” 

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear.  Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing.  Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up.  And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-” 

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?” 

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away.  (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality.  “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-” 

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was.  He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular.  He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what.  It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away.  “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.  I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?” 

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight.  The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up.  He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of.  Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back.  “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-” 

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly.  She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades.  She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face.  “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked” 

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically.  “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!” 

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested.  “I know there’s not any cameras… but…” 

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?” 

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head.  He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.  

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his.  Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away.  She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating.  She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes.  It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead.  He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose.  “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?” 

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats.  As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[wndaswife]

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own. 

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers. 

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground. 

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence. 

Y/N — that was your name. 

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective. 

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic. 

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about. 

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base. 

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N. 

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too. 

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you. 

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you. 

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later. 

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly  thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party. 

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together. 

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd. 

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you. 

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you. 

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing. 

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern. 

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends. 

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out. 

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer. 

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to. 

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material. 

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team. 

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them. 

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. 

But with you, it was different. 

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now. 

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain. 

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet. 

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon. 

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes. 

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony. 

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you. 

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now. 

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with. 

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside. 

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you. 

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you. 

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.” 

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone. 

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face. 

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong. 

She hoped she would never be right.

[pin-k-ink]

spring loaded // kita shinsuke

tw ⇢ kita is a student council member, sexual tension, grinding, making out, cunnilingus, hate sex, rough sex, biting, marking, name calling, manhandling, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi public sex

wc ⇢ 6.2k

a/n: i’ve no idea how a student council works because we don’t have that here. so i just write whatever i felt like was correct

The weighted silence in the student council room felt charged enough to combust as Kita Shinsuke's piercing gaze bored into you from across the table, daring you to meet his stare.

You refused to be the one to blink first, keeping your features carefully composed despite the electric tingle thrumming beneath your skin whenever he settled that hooded, assessing look upon you. From the stark furrow of Kita's brow to the austere line of his mouth, his whole countenance radiated an intensity verging on confrontational.

Which was utterly baffling, considering the inanity of your current debate. You'd been going back and forth for what felt like hours over something as mundane as finalizing the budgetary allocation for the school's various clubs and sports teams. A topic that should have remained impersonal and clinical in discussion.

Yet with Kita as your opposition, even the most trivial administrative matters seemed to transform into a battle of wits and wills heavily laden with unspoken undercurrents. As if he took perverse delight in needling you over irrelevant minutiae just to study the sparks of agitation he could ignite behind your eyes.

"That figures simply cannot be accurate," Kita's crisp baritone sliced through the weighty quiet with surgical precision. "Clearly there's been an errant calculation made in funding distribution that skews the proportions unfairly."

You had to resist the urge to grit your teeth at his oh-so-casual insinuation of oversight on your part. Forcing yourself to meet that turbulent stare brimming with challenge, you enunciated clearly.

"I can assure you the numbers are triple-verified, Kita-san. Down to the last decimal point, as is protocol." You refused to rise to his barefaced provocation this time. "Unless you have a specific line item you'd like me to revisit?"

The muscle feathered along Kita's jawline told you he registered the thinly veiled rebuke in your composed tome. One corner of his perpetually downturned mouth seemed to twitch infinitesimally before he replied.

"Very well. If you insist the figures are beyond reproach, I'll simply defer to your...expertise on financial matters."

The way his gaze streaked overtly down the length of your body accompanied that final word before slowly ascending back to lock with yours. There was no mistaking the heated emphasis underlying the otherwise innocuous statement, or the undercurrent abruptly simmering in the space between you.

You forgot to breathe for a suspended heartbeat, mesmerized in a way you couldn't quite define by the heated intensity simmering behind Kita's pewter stare. Then the moment passed as he shifted imperceptibly, leaving you off-kilter and strangely...flushed with wayward energy.

"That said," Kita continued in a tone that could have stripped varnish, "based on my own analysis of the numbers, our volleyball program still seems to have been shortchanged on projected equipment and travel expenses for the upcoming semester."

Before you could even formulate a rebuttal, his palm slapped a sheaf of documents down atop the budget report with decisive force.

"I took the liberty of revising a few line items, reallocating whatever frivolous overages I could identify." Those gunmetal irises sliced into you with blistering emphasis. "You're welcome to review them and advocate for restoration of any expenditures you feel are indispensable, of course."

You opened your mouth to berate him for his typical high-handedness, but Kita simply leveled you with that hawkish, vivisecting look that somehow rendered you temporarily inert. Like a small prey creature having its innards laid open with scientific detachment for study.

"However..." He went on without awaiting dismissal. "I trust these revised projections will meet with the esteemed student council's approval, as they represent the most logical path forward for apportioning our resources effectively."

With a pointed dip of his chin, Kita slid the stack of modified documents across the table's glossy surface until they landed perfectly parallel before your frantically spiraling thoughts. For one hazy, dizzying instant, you caught another glimpse of that banked mercurial spark searing behind his pale stare.

And despite yourself, despite the countless similar petty needlings that prefaced this latest encounter...you felt a delirious slither of unfurling heat low in your abdomen at whatever unspoken challenge burned behind Kita's inscrutable countenance this time.

No matter how often you and Kita clashed over trivial administrative matters, the tension between you two always simmered with thrilling undercurrents you couldn't quite define. What should have been dry, impersonal discussions somehow transmuted into thick, electrically-charged atmospheres anytime he settled that piercing stare upon you.

Like the day you were compiling materials for the upcoming assembly in one of the empty classrooms after hours. So absorbed in cross-checking your notes that you didn't realize you weren't alone until Kita's crisp baritone sliced through the weighted quiet.

"Burning the midnight oil again, I see."

You startled slightly at his unexpected presence before forcing nonchalance. "Kita-san. I could say the same about you lurking around at this hour."

Rather than rising to your barbed tone, Kita simply shrugged one lean shoulder as he prowled further into the room. "Merely ensuring preparations are continuing on schedule, as is my duty."

There was something about the way he said that last part - husking it out in his low register while holding your stare hostage. As if the words themselves were laden with undercurrents his placid expression didn't betray. You had to tear your eyes away before your mind wandered in unprofessional directions.

"Yes, well..." You cleared your throat in a bid for steadiness. "I can assure you I have everything perfectly under control on this end."

"Do you?" Kita didn't miss a beat, tone taking on a weighted edge that raised delicious little chill-trails across your nape. Then he was suddenly looming over you, solid chest bisecting your space as one lean arm extended to tap the sheaf of agenda notes before you. "Then you'll want to revisit the agenda sequence here..."

You forgot to breathe for a suspended beat at the overwhelming closeness of Kita's body, the clean, earthy tang of his cologne fogging your senses in delirious waves. Heat prickled outwards as his proximity allowed you to take in all the subtleties of his physicality - lean musculature carved in elegant planes, hair perfectly coiffed, slender throat exposed by his open collar.

Swallowing hard, you dragged your traitorous focus to where his index finger rested, tamping down an errant shiver as you registered the feather-soft rasp of his knuckles grazing your forearm.

"No issues, Kita-san," you grated, silently willing your vocal cords not to betray the maelstrom of sensation spooling through you in waves. "That sequence of events is set exactly how I intended based on scheduled timing between segments."

A pause, thick and elecrically weighted. Then Kita leaned fractionally closer, face angling in your periphery until you could feel the humid torrent of his even breaths ghosting across your nape in tandem with the graze of his large palm settling over your knuckles.

"Perhaps..." He murmured at last, graveled timbre pitched to detonate in molten entreaty against your nerve-endings. "Perhaps you should take a breath and reexamine with fresh eyes, hmm? It's not good to rush and mess up all the hard work you've done so far..."

With exquisite slowness and purpose, Kita's fingertips began mapping delicious paths across the bare inward curve of your wrist where your sleeves ended. Following the thrumming path of your racing pulse with merciless precision as your entire body detonated into high-alert at his proximity.

"Something...to consider, President." He punctuated the softly murmured suggestion with the barest graze of teeth scoring along the fragile cup of your inner wrist, just below your leaping heartbeat.

You inhaled a sharp breath despite willing your lungs to remain steady, abruptly enveloped in the intoxicating maelstrom of Kita Shinsuke's body surrounding yours. His solid torso pressed against your back as he leaned over you was suddenly the only coherent point of gravity remaining in your short-circuiting consciousness.

Just as abruptly as the torturous intimacy commenced, Kita extracted himself from your personal space with that same maddeningly unhurried grace. Leaving you sagging dizzily over the table strewn with notes, head spinning from the disorienting whiplash as ambient reality slammed back into focus.

"Well then, I'll leave you to your...preparations," Kita remarked as he slid out of striking range once more. That calm, unruffled mien firmly back in place, not a single ripple marring the austere lines of his impassive features beyond the gleam of challenge burning in his pale stare.

Head buzzing with white-noise static, you somehow found the wherewithal to nod in numb acknowledgment as he made his exit. Though not before Kita tossed one last quietly insinuative murmur over the taut line of his shoulder:

"Do let me know if you require my...intimate counsel on any other agenda items before the assembly, President."

No matter how innocuous the setting or agenda item up for discussion, Kita always seemed to find a way to needle you until the atmosphere thickened with unresolved tension. You lost count of how many meetings devolved from productive dialogue into protracted staring contests - his pale, piercing gaze clashing against your own in silent challenge.

Until the slightest tonal emphasis or loaded innuendo from Kita's deceptively mild countenance had your senses catalyzing into high-alert without any overt physical provocation required. Your circadian rhythms seemed to attune themselves around whatever frequency he gave off until resentment and longing blurred into an inextricable dissonance.

It all came combustibly to a head during one marathon student council session debating adjustments for the upcoming cultural festival. What should have been a straightforward agenda swiftly derailed into yet another nitpicking exercise under Kita's scrutiny.

"This proposed stage layout is wildly impractical," he intoned without preamble, slicing through the tranquil murmurs around the table. "The sightlines from these audience positions will be unacceptably compromised."

You bristled at the derision loaded into his statement despite the bland delivery, hackles raising. "The sightlines have been carefully calculated and approved by school administration, Kita-san. I assure you, the layout is optimized for attendee visibility."

Kita's jaw tightened infinitesimally, the only betraying tic before he spoke again around the weighted pause. "Then I must object to the administration's mathematical competencies, President. Any observer would be hard-pressed to enjoy performances from these points."

Heat began sparking treacherously low in your belly despite willing every hormone into submission. The way his gaze needled yours made you feel like a science project splayed on the examination table for detached scrutiny.

"As I said, visibility has been confirmed as adequate," you attempted to dismiss his objection with an air of unruffled composure. "Perhaps if you reviewed the fully annotated schematics instead of cherry-picking sparse details, you wouldn't be so hasty with misguided critiques."

Around the oblong table, assorted club representatives and administrators shifted uncomfortably at the open animosity thickening the atmosphere. But Kita either didn't register or refused to yield the pointed intensity ratcheting up between you.

"Trust me, I've reviewed every last ludicrous detail in your 'meticulous' planning packet," he rejoined without missing a beat. Then those pale, turbulent irises streaked down your frame before ascending in a carnal sweep that ignited your senses into a molten feedback loop.

"If you'll recall, I made numerous notations regarding suggested corrections within those materials, none of which seemed to have been implemented based on this..." His fingertips trailed along the sheaf of documents arrayed before him with pointed nonchalance before tapping the stage layout critique. "...latest set of notes."

You sucked in a sharp inhale at the lingering heat imparted by his deliberately provocative regard. Determined not to shrivel beneath the scorching weight of it, you willed your features into an expression of cool disregard rather than flustered capitulation.

Rapping your knuckles once against the tabletop in a measured rebuke, you refused to so much as blink as your rebuttal emerged in clipped precision: "While I appreciate your...passion for optimization, Kita-san, I won't have you hijacking productive council discussions just to indulge your own pet nitpicks over work that's already been comprehensively reviewed and approved."

The resulting silence bordered on obscene, both of your expressions chiseled into neutral masks even as the electricity between your unyielding stares threatened to buckle the foundations. Kita broke first - but only to dip his chin in a subtle nod, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards into what could almost be interpreted as smirk.

"Of course..." He practically purred the acquiescence, sending depravity licking along your nerve endings despite his tone remaining decidedly mild. Then that pale, vivisecting gaze darkened with banked promise as Kita maintained weighty emphasis.

"Though whether or not you ultimately implement my impassioned adjustments, it seems prudent I continue voicing any...intimate observations pertaining to your procedural proposals. For the sake of meticulous oversight, naturally."

Your nails dug into the soft leather of your chair's armrests beneath the table, thighs clenching against a delirious spiral of dark yearning at the naked intimacy he somehow managed to bleed into an otherwise innocuous statement.

"Naturally," you echoed in a strained rasp, silently willing your feet to remain anchored despite every instinct suddenly screaming to flee the magnetic pull of Kita's influence before it dragged you into uncharted depths below.

His slow, weighted blink of faux-innocence told you he'd registered your restraint fraying audibly in that one tremulous utterance. As the council reconvened around you, Kita remained locked in blatantly pointed contemplation as if determining where best to slip the razor's edge of his next precision strike.

The pointed sparring between you and Kita rapidly escalated beyond mere loaded words and heated stares into something far more overtly provocative. As if some vital tether had snapped, rendering you both powerless against the raging undercurrents of tension steadily cresting between you.

Take the afternoon you'd stopped by the gymnasium to confirm details for an upcoming pep rally, only to find the cavernous space already occupied. Kita and his teammates were in the midst of grueling reception drills, sweat-slicked bodies moving in rhythmic unison across the hardwood.

You faltered in the entrance, instantly transfixed despite your best attempts at nonchalance. There was something almost hypnotic about watching the flexing, rippling muscles shifting beneath strapped compression gear as the athletes launched themselves around the court. But it was Kita's lithe, almost feral form that catalyzed a delirious storm of heated prickles streaking through you in waves.

The captain barked out a crisp order, sending his underlings scattering into new formations as he prowled the sidelines with that patented intensity. You couldn't tear your rapt attention away from the mesmerizing, almost predatory grace of his movements as those lean muscles bunched and released beneath his sleeveless jersey.

Kita halted mid-prowl as another powerful spike collided squarely with his reception. Absorbing the force with seemingly effortless poise, he pivoted towards you at the last second - eyes immediately snagging your dumbstruck gaze from across the vaulted space in a heated collision.

The world seemed to condense down to that single point of smoldering contact as Kita remained frozen for a suspended beat, chest heaving with exertion. You could almost taste the heady tang of his sweat saturating the charged atmosphere, jumpstarting your senses into riotous overdrive despite the distance between you.

Then Kita's tongue swept out in one unhurried sweep to moisten his lower lip and you were utterly, viscerally transfixed. Every molecule abruptly attuned to the elegant stretch of corded tendons, the hypnotic sheen of perspiration gilding his form, the predatory arch of those slanted eyes boring into you until the entire tableau felt like a brand searing itself into your unreliable psyche.

You couldn't even force your gaze elsewhere, overwhelmed by the phantom imprint of Kita's hooded stare streaking over your body in one scorching, proprietary sweep. Until the low, measured cadences of his gruff voice sawed through the maelstrom spiraling your senses into overload.

"Something I can...assist you with, President?"

Ambient noise came crashing back in technicolor cataclysm as Kita's question seemed to reverberate through the very marrow of your bones. His teammates had frozen mid-drill, staring between the two of you with comically transparent bewilderment as the tensions went unacknowledged but dauntingly tangible.

Your tongue felt leaden, mouth as dry and viscous as cotton wadding despite your efforts to recover some fragment of composure beneath the weight of that blazing scrutiny. Kita prowled closer, unhurried and predatory - until you swore you could feel the scorching heat radiating off the bunched musculature left glistening and exposed by his jersey's open collar.

"My, my..." He practically purred in that resonant timbre edged with dark sin. "So captivated already, and I'm only just getting warmed up for you..."

This time when that hooded, canine stare tracked down the length of your body, Kita didn't even attempt to mask his unhurried debauch. You stood rooted to the varnished floorboards, a live-wire of sensation burrowing treacherously outward as moist lips curved in the faintest suggestion of a leer.

"Well then, President..." That molten timbre caressed the honorific like one would relish a profanity falling sinfully free. "Allow me to put on a proper display showcasing my...skills and talents. Just for your viewing pleasure, hmm?"

With that husked promise dangling between you like a garrotte tightening around your every scattered impulse to flee, Kita spun away to rejoin the practice. But not before searing you one last weighted look - one that brazenly insinuated the deliberate narrative awaiting further exploration between your dually-bared forms.

Just like that, you were instantly, irretrievably captivated. Despite the spectacle unfolding before you, behind your raptured stare the only thought taking screaming root now was:

What else could this elemental feral creature so blithely take from you if given the chance...and would you let him?

It became increasingly difficult to maintain any veneer of professionalism whenever you and Kita occupied the same space. What should have been productive meetings or cordial planning sessions rapidly devolved into charged battlefields of heated looks and weighted innuendo.

As if some tenuous tether had finally snapped, rendering you both powerless against the rising tide of heated tensions crackling in the air whenever your eyes met. No matter how benign the topic up for discussion, that delirious, molten attraction always threatened to overwhelm and swallow you whole without preamble.

That day you'd called an emergency student council session to address concerns over the cultural festival's opening ceremonies running too long. What began as a pragmatic conversation about trimming excessive performances rapidly derailed the instant Kita strode through the door with that peerless intensity radiating off him in waves.

"--which is why I recommend we cut at least three acts from the lineup to stay on schedule," you addressed the assembly without preamble, determined to project an air of unruffled authority.

Unfortunately, Kita chose that precise moment to settle into the seat directly across from you, slouching indolently as pale eyes slammed into yours with the visceral impact of a bullet train's collision. You faltered infinitesimally despite yourself, briefly rendered inert beneath the naked weight of his stare before rallying onward.

"Unless...there are any other suggestions to streamline things?" You arched one brow in the vaguest of challenges.

A protracted beat passed, electrically charged and vibrating. Then Kita allowed his tongue to sweep out and trace the plump contours of his lower lip before replying in that endlessly unraveling rasp.

"As a matter of fact...I do have a few impassioned 'suggestions' for maximizing efficiency and impact, President."

The husked emphasis he placed on your honorific this time went straight to your core, igniting fissures of heat that threatened to unravel your composure completely. Deliberately tamping down the delirious spiral of yearning, you responded in as bland a tone as you could muster.

"I'm listening, Kita-san. Though perhaps we could table the distracting commentary for now and stay on task?"

Rather than looking chastised, Kita's lips seemed to twitch upwards in the barest hint of smirk even as a muscle ticked along his carved jawline. Then he leaned casually back, slouching further in pointed rebuke as he allowed that penetrating stare to streak down your form with unhurried debauch.

"Why so eager to rush through the opening acts, I wonder?" He all but purred, midnight regard devouring your deepening flush with clear relish. "Shouldn't we savor such a deliciously long...build-up before reaching the climactic main events?"

All around the conference table, the other council members shifted uncomfortably at the naked innuendo dripping through Kita's mild timbre. You opened your mouth, fully intending to deliver some withering rejoinder about his inappropriate lack of professionalism.

But that's when Kita allowed one defined forearm to snake up and brace his broad palm at the nape of his neck in a deceptively casual stretch. The motion drew every eye helplessly down towards the ruddy hollows of his collarbones now visible beneath his askew shirt placket, the tendons shifting beneath gilded flesh like sentient sculpture.

Despite yourself, your pupils blew wide in a hapless gutterball of physiological arousal, drinking in every tantalizing glimpse of lean muscle and glistening skin on offer. Completely missing the knowing curve quirking Kita's mouth as your attention grew transfixed in that breathless vacuum of gravity.

When the husky vibrations of his next drawling inquiry sliced through the weighted quiet at last, you actually startled as if electrified. "...isn't that right, President?"

You blinked dazedly, realizing belatedly that you'd been so thoroughly enraptured by the sensual display of Kita's sprawl that the entire conversational thread was now lost to temporaryvapors. Heat crept up the column of your throat as you fumbled for some semblance of steadiness beneath the weight of all those judging stares.

"I—um, that is..." You rallied at last, squaring your shoulders in a valiant show of composure despite the molten fires still blazing outwards through your veins. "As I was saying, some events will simply need omitting from the lineup in the name of time constraints. That's the most efficient strategy here, if we want the full cultural experience scheduled."

Forcing your attention away from the mesmerizing sprawl of Kita's form, you stared down several of the more vocal dissenters until their murmurings hushed obediently to the proclaimed assessment. Only once the matter appeared settled did you risk flicking your eyes back to where your tormentor lounged in studied insouciance.

Kita's full lips were curved in a quietly indolent smile now, one that somehow both scorched and soothed the hyperaware nerve-endings screaming for attention all over your body. His unblinking stare remained locked in rapturous communion through each weighted inhale, weighty enough to resurrect lingering prickles.

The atmosphere was already crackling with unresolved tensions by the time you and Kita arrived at your latest battle of wits and wills. What started as a mundane review of upcoming school pride initiatives rapidly spun out into familiar territory - with Kita nitpicking your every proposal like a dog worrying a bone.

"This budget allocation is transparently overblown," he snapped without preamble, pale eyes flashing. "I refuse to allow such blatant financial waste just to satiate the committee's delusions of grandeur."

You recoiled slightly at the bluntness, teeth gritting together. "Those funds were already approved by administration based on last year's successful promotional spend--"

"Last year's figures mean nothing if they were hemorrhaging money to begin with!" Kita's deep timbre emerged scorched and gravelly. "We cannot justify that level of surplus, end of discussion."

The menacingly calm way he shut down your objection sparked fresh tendrils of heated frustration snaking outwards through your veins. Your pulse kicked up several furious notches as Kita's piercing stare remained locked and loaded, awaiting either silent capitulation or your next attempted counterstrike like a wolf scenting weakness.

Shoving away from the table with enough force to rattle its contents, you shot to your feet with fists clenched in wordless defiance. For a suspended beat, Kita simply watched you through narrowed lids, coiled tension rolling off his larger frame in waves.

Then he moved.

With a feline's predatory grace, Kita pushed out of his chair and stalked around the table's circumference towards where you stood rooted between mounting wrath and some darker, more visceral yearning. In your heightened state, the liquid prowl of each measured step seemed to fill the tiny room, sudden claustrophobia setting your heart thundering.

Kita halted less than a foot away, near enough for you to feel the heated displacement of air around his solid frame like invisible wings. To scent the cedar-and-bergamot bouquet of his subtle cologne seeping into your scattered awareness until every shallow inhale felt drugged and rapturous. His eyes never left yours - twin laser sights of smoldering challenge.

"You'd do well to remember who holds jurisdiction over fiscal matters relating to our operations," he intoned at last, the words dropping like lead weights into the bristling quiet between you. "Arrogance like yours never fails to meet...humbling correction eventually."

Some unraveled tether finally snapped deep inside at Kita's ominous inflection. You surged upwards onto the balls of your feet until you were almost nose-to-nose, hands bunching in the placket of his shirt to yank his face closer in irresistible conflagration.

Kita went utterly statue-still for a suspended heartbeat, surprise rippling across those austere features before darkening into something more viscerally intent. You opened your mouth to deliver some scathing invective you couldn't even properly envision at the moment--

But the abrupt forward cant of Kita's hips robbed you of air and thought alike. Broad palms settled on your biceps with scorching possession, fingers digging in as he backed you up against the wall's solid plane without warning. Only inches separated you, carnal heat and musky cedar-spice atmospheres merging into delirium that catalyzed your lungs into overdrive.

Between one breath and the next, your bodies aligned in an inescapable vise of muscle and silk and banked wildfire. One of Kita's thighs settled between yours in brazen, unhurried possession, forcing your knees wider in shameless entreaty as his torso effectively pinned you from breastbone to navel. The slightest rock of his hips allowed the undeniable brand of his cock to nestle against your innermost apex in a slow, suggestive grind that whited out your higher reasoning entirely.

"Nnhh..."

The broken, needy noise slipped out before you could stop it. You flushed scalding, shame and yearning burgeoning in equal measure until you could no longer meet the smoldering tumult of Kita's regard from such excruciatingly intimate proximity. His exhalations feathered across your cheek in humid, dizzying waves.

Then suddenly Kita surged forward, mouth a scorching brand searing against your own in a devouring, open-mouthed crush of sin and scorching conquest. His iron grip around your biceps eliminated any notion of retreat or capitulation as he systematically began mapping the velvet cosms of your mouth with broad, indolent sweeps of his tongue.

Your hitching whimper was swallowed whole as you arched into the ruthlessness of his possession, hips grinding in helpless entreaty against his thigh's insistent cradle. Heat radiated off Kita's frame in searing thermals, cradling you deeper into his suffocating orbit until everything outside ceased coherent existence.

Just when the roaring in your ears threatened to peak into full-bodied oblivion, something tore with a decisive snap, accompanied by the clatter of ricocheting buttons. Suddenly cool air rushed in where heated flesh had fused mere moments before, allowing your eyes to slam wide in panicked realization--

Kita had practically torn the blouse from your torso, pinning you with arms wrenched overhead and chest heaving in undisguised debauch.

The sudden tearing sound seemed to detonate the last vestige of higher reasoning between you in that endless suspended moment. One second you were pinned beneath the scorching brand of Kita's mouth claiming yours in molten possession, the next cool air rushed in as buttons scattered across the room's tiles with percussive finality.

You shuddered violently as Kita wrenched himself back just far enough to fully drink in the sight of you disheveled and flushed, chest heaving above the lacy bra you wore. His stare streaked down the newly bared expanses of skin in one unhurried, carnal sweep - pupils blown wide enough to drown entire constellations.

Rather than feeling shamed or flustered beneath that devouring scrutiny, you arched shamelessly into his appraisal. Every nerve ending screamed for more of the searing friction from Kita's rigid frame as he pinned you against the wall with his unyielding weight, solid ridge nestled indelicately against your core.

The rasping groan he released then seemed to reverberate straight through your bones, a vibration echoing from some ancient, elemental depth. Kita's palms mapped up the trembling terrain of your flanks in searing brands, fingertips trailing delirious contrails until he cradled the soft weight of you entirely in his calloused grasp.

"So unbelievably eager..." His growl emerged gravel-rough and undone in a way that sent molten shudders ricocheting through you. "Utterly shameless in your hunger, aren't you?"

You managed the barest slivers of a nod, mouth falling open in soundless entreaty as Kita's thumbs ghosted beneath the exposed swells caught in his possessive cups. His tongue dragged out in one slow sweep to moisten those pillowed lips, gaze locked on your own in a silent clash of wills.

Then his hips rolled in one heated, languorous grind that had your eyes nearly rolling back in pure rapture. The sinuous flex of Kita's torso pinned you utterly immobile as he sealed your mouths together again in delirious communion - all searing velvet and scorching possession and liquid sin etching itself into each of your marrow.

Coherent thought fled entirely as his uniquely masculine musk surrounded you in heady, drugging waves. Every shallow inhalation drew Kita's smoldering essence deeper into your psyche until not even memories beyond this cathedral of satiated need remained recognizable.

You keened softly into the merciless sweep of his tongue mapping every velvet alcove in reverent exploration. Savored the delicious sting of teeth grazing oversensitized skin as he plundered down the elegant column of your throat with possessive fervor. Writhed and arched into each arrhythmic roll of his hips grinding yours back into the solidity of the wall over and over again--

Until the world itself seemed to bleed away into ashen vapor, leaving only the exquisite crucible of your tangled forms bound in an endless rapturous spiral of searing caresses and shattering gasps and carnal desperation spiraling ever inwards towards that infinite event horizon of oblivion.

Kita's husky drawl seemed to echo somewhere in the vicinity of the crown of your skull, distant and dreamlike and yet so impossibly present. A languid stroke along the underside of one breast, the teasing graze of canines across a straining tendon, a sinfully hot mouth trailing liquid fire between your trembling thighs.

"Such a mess you've made already, President..." His dark murmur reverberated through your entire being in a wave of liquid heat. "Such a needy little slut, aren't you? I can taste how desperate you are for me..."

Then the molten, velvet contours of his tongue plunged between the soaked folds of your pussy, stroking along the sensitive nerve-clusters in a single, unhurried sweep that had you convulsing against his restraining grasp. Your vision whited out at the seams as the heady, decadent taste of him flooded your senses.

A broken sob tore free as he licked into you again, then again, laving every last inch of your dripping slit with unhurried reverence. That sinful tongue delved impossibly deeper each time, spearing into your aching core until every muscle in your body quivered and clenched.

Kita hummed his satisfaction against the tender flesh, a vibrato that ricocheted through your synapses and ignited the frayed ends of your control in an instant. Then the suction started, lips and teeth and tongue devouring you in relentless, wet suction until the world was spinning and imploding and melting into nothing but pure sensation.

You keened wordlessly, thighs trembling and hips bucking wildly against his iron grip as Kita's dexterous fingers began pistoning inside you in tandem. The added stretch and friction of three calloused digits stroking along your most intimate walls had the pleasure spiking higher, higher, impossibly higher still.

"Fuck, so perfect..." He breathed reverently, the words feathering against your throbbing clit as Kita nosed against it with the most exquisite pressure. "Cum for me, right fucking now."

The orgasm ripped through you without warning.

Searing, shattering ecstasy erupted along your spine and outwards in a blinding wave that drowned every last coherent thought in its path. You cried out hoarsely, thrashing against Kita's grip in a frenzy as he worked you through each convulsive spasm.

Then his lips were sealing over your clit once more, tongue swirling and suckling and coaxing every last ounce of your climax into overflowing, molten bliss until the edges of reality frayed and unraveled entirely.

When the world gradually resolved back into some semblance of clarity, it was to the sensation of Kita's hard length grinding insistently between the slick seam of your thighs. The blunt, velvet-wrapped tip nudged against your swollen entrance in teasing promise, sending fresh ripples of sensation careening through your already overstimulated form.

You moaned wantonly, grinding against him in delirious entreaty - desperate for Kita to bury his cock inside you and fuck you until the universe itself shattered apart into glittering stardust. He hissed at the contact, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as the crown teased just barely inside, spreading your lips obscenely.

Then he slammed home, sheathing himself completely inside your clenching, aching walls with a single brutal thrust that had you both groaning aloud. Kita's mouth captured yours in a bruising kiss, the combined flavors of your climax and his intoxicating musk flooding your tongue and drowning you in pure rapture.

Every powerful stroke into your quivering pussy seemed to strike straight against the molten center of you, each thrust bottoming out and stretching you impossibly wide. It was the most exquisite, carnal torture - having your writhing form pinned and helpless while Kita's relentless assault pounded you into the wall.

You moaned, the sounds muffled against his hungry mouth, every nerve-ending igniting as his cock pistoned deeper and harder and faster. It was too much, not enough, more than you could possibly contain and yet you wanted it all - wanted him to split you apart on the thick, pulsating length spearing you open.

"Fuck, if I’d known what a cockslut you'd be for me..." Kita growled against your throat, the words muffled as his lips trailed up and down the exposed flesh in heated caress. "How sweetly you'd spread those gorgeous thighs and take everything I give you..."

One of his broad palms splayed across the front of your lower stomach, pushing against the swollen, stretched bulge of his cock pounding deep within you. You cried out at the added pressure, thrashing uncontrollably as another orgasm crested closer, closer, just beyond the reach of his iron grasp.

"Such a perfect, tight little cunt...squeezing my cock like you can't get enough..." His ragged timbre resonated through you in a sonic vibration, teeth sinking into the juncture of your throat and shoulder. "You fucking love this, don't you? Getting fucked hard and rough, like the slut you are..."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, scrabbling for purchase against the sweat-slicked, shifting planes of his musculature as you fought to meet each powerful stroke. Each brutal snap of Kita's hips threatened to unravel the foundations of the very universe, obliterating everything beyond the scorching friction between your bodies and the delirious, molten heat mounting in your core.

He panted raggedly against the delicate shell of your ear, the hot exhalations fanning across your temple and cheeks. Then his rhythm faltered, hips jerking wildly, a guttural curse spilling from Kita's parted lips as he drove impossibly deeper.

The world erupted in pure, molten euphoria.

A raw, feral cry wrenched free from somewhere deep inside you. Your back arched, the heels of your shoes digging into the firm curve of his ass as your entire form strained into his final, ruthless strokes.

"That's it, fuck..." He growled, hips stuttering as he ground impossibly deeper, a hot torrent of cum spilling into the clenching clutch of your cunt. "I can feel you milking me so fucking tight...taking every last drop like the good little slut you are..."

His words echoed distantly in your ears, the syllables blurring and blending together until they were nothing but a melodious refrain of filthy praise. Kita's cock continued to pulse deep inside, filling you impossibly full and igniting a whole new series of electrically charged sparks skittering across your raw nerve endings.

By the time the roaring in your ears abated, it was to the sensation of his mouth trailing along the delicate curve of your jawline in featherlight caress. Kita's broad palms smoothed down the length of your thighs, easing the strained muscles until they quivered anew.

All of a sudden, he was slamming you down onto the table's surface, the edge colliding with the back of your thighs and forcing you to brace your palms flat against the varnished wood. Kita loomed above, a predatory gleam flashing in his darkening irises as he leaned in to capture your lips in another searing, open-mouthed kiss.

"We're far from finished here, President..." That resonant purr echoed down to your very bones, sending fresh prickles erupting across your sensitized flesh. "Now that I've got you properly broken in , it's time we explore the rest of those delicious, depraved fantasies dancing behind those pretty eyes."

Then he was spreading your thighs wider, angling his hips to surge deep into the drenched, aching folds of your cunt once more.

[theplumsoldier]

loverboy

summary: carmen makes a move on you while you think he's still got a girlfriend. could've gone smoother but you end up inviting him

pairing: carmy berzatto x afab!reader

word count: 4,2k

warnings: insecurities, self-doubt, small lies (carm makes you believe he lives closer to you than he does), vulgar language, mention of "setting boundaries" of a not-yet-existing-fwb-relationship, 18+ MDNI; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public grinding, oral (f&m receiving) soft!carm, idiots in love, friends to lovers!!

"You know, I don't think I've said this." He hadn't. "But I'm-I'm really—we're all really glad to have you here."

He was nodding to himself as he said it, and he hoped you didn't notice the hesitation. Carmy wasn't for a second doubtful that they were happy—he was certainly happy that you had joined the crew during the hectic weeks prior to The Bear's opening.

It was just that now, here, sitting alone with you in the back alley of the restaurant, sharing one of the bottles of expensive-as-shit Coup Beaujolais, he was getting unsure of himself. On whether he had completely misread your banter. He wasn't very good with that, flirting—never knew when someone was hitting on him and always double-checking whether he himself was, in fact, hitting on someone. Richie had said the chemistry between you guys was more dangerous than Fak recalibrating. Fucking stupid, he thought, but it made him think.

And then Carmy realized he had been flirting with you, in his own stupid fucking way which he worried you hadn't picked up on. Shit, he hadn't noticed it before Richie told him. Now that he sat there, with you, alone, he wondered if Richie had been fucking with him again.

Carmy wanted to know how you felt about him, but he didn't want to fuck up as was his specialty lately—didn't wanna make you uncomfortable, didn't wanna make anything weird.

"Yeah, uh. Thanks, chef," said you, chewing at your bottom lip to ease the tension. Carmy had a real habit of making situations awkward. "I'm glad you'll have me."

Phrasing.

Carm nodded, the persistent way he does whenever he's turning words in his head. You could almost hear the gears scraping.

"You always seem so cool—about everything. Like, even though we're jumpin' off the fuckin' walls, screaming n'shit, you'll just—you're collected. S'a real good quality, you know?"

You grinned, thinking of those exact memories, some just a couple of hours old. "Yeah, well—I'm sure it's more hectic n'the kitchen, right? Like there's, open fire, sharp knives and shit. Gotta be jumpin', like, all the time, yeah? To avoid the obstacles n'stuff."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Peter Parker-type shit."

"Yeah."

You held the plastic cup out and he poured you another one.

"Anyway, keeps me sane, you know? I think—I think at some point you made me realize that—that, you know, it's not normal to fuckin' scream all day. Like I didn't even realize I got fuckin' migraines 'til it was quiet, you feel me?"

It made you bubbly, to hear that Carmen did in fact appreciate having you be a part of the team.

You just sat there, quietly watching him. His bicep popped when he poured a slob into his own cup. You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips before taking a sip.

You sat like that, speaking mindlessly for a while, sharing experiences and goofing around. You loved this, getting to know him better, but when you suddenly found that he had sought closer to you, you felt your heart leap.

His body was so close you could feel the heat of his body radiate. It was intoxicating, more than the wine and though your subconscious reminded you it was wrong to lean into his welcoming touch, you couldn't help but forget what was right and wrong.

His crystal blue eyes caught the light from the street lamp, and you were mesmerized as he looked into your soul. You felt vulnerable but safe in his company.

Though there had been much lead-up, it seemed to come out of the blue. Carmy leaned in, and his eyes were fixated on your lips. Before your lips touched, your senses returned and you moved back against the fence.

"Yo, what the fuck are you doing?"

Fuck.

"Wait—I'm sorry! I'm sorry."

"You have a girlfriend!"

Oh.

"Wha—no, no—shit, that's not—" he stumbled back, running a hand over his dazed face, dragging the expression down with it.

Fuck—fuck! Carmen thought he must look like a fucking jagoff.

He stood with his back to you, but you could see the way his broad shoulders heaved with every.

You pushed, not appreciating the silence. "Yeah, no—her name is Claire. You've been dating her a couple months now and known her, for like, forever. That ring any bells?"

When Carmen turned around to face you, he looked defeated. He then crouched down beside you again.

"We broke up."

What?

Carmen told you how he had had an existential crisis during opening night, how he had thought he vented to Tina while stuck in the walk-in, and Claire had heard everything he had said. You could sense the sadness in his voice, but there was no regret. It spread a warm feeling in your chest, and you immediately felt a pang of guilt. When you had first met Carm, he had been with Claire and so the immediate attraction you had felt—well, you had obviously tried to suppress that.

"—I guess I just... I realized I can't both manage a—a restaurant and a relationship. I—I don't know, it don't come natural to me."

Your brows were furrowed, mixed feeling prickling at your skin. "So... why'd you try to kiss me just now?"

Again, he looked despondent.

"I—fuck, I don't know, I've—I guess I've just been feeling this for a while now, with—with you and I dunno. Richie's been getting in my head and I had a stupid thought and figured fuck it, you know?"

It wasn't a question but he was looking for an answer on your expression. Carmen feared you had stopped him from kissing you, not because you thought he had a girlfriend, but because you didn't want to kiss him.

Carmy watched as you looked thoughtfully at the ground, his hands fidgeting as you did the same.

Fuck.

It's over, he thought to himself.

Battling the voices in your head telling you not to, you said: "You know, it's not that the thought of kissing you, like, disgusts me."

His head tilted upward, hope in his sorry eyes.

"No?" he quizzed sheepishly.

"No," you chuckled. "I mean, I've thought about it before."

Carm lit up. "Ye—yeah?"

"Yeah," nodded you, wetting your lips as you recalled your fantasies. "It'd probably be stupid though, right?"

"So stupid," he agreed, nodding vigorously as if trying to shake the thought. It would be fucking stupid. He knew it. But it didn't deter him. Carm wanted to take the chance. He shouldn't, after all, he broke it off with Claire because he "wasn't ready". Why would he be ready now? "Still want to, though."

So badly. It felt more like an urge; a need rather than a want.

"So do it," you finally tested.

If you didn't, you were sure you'd back out, run into the kitchen with your tail between your legs. But you would regret that, you knew it. You tried to convince yourself you shouldn't back away. You wanted this—had for a while. Carm was the one who should second-guess himself, not you. He had ended a relationship because he couldn't dedicate himself and now he wanted to give it another shot. With you. It made you desperate, knowing he wanted you like you wanted him. Still, you worried he would kiss you and regret it immediately, confirmed in his suspicions—he didn't have time for romance. Keep your eye on the price.

"Fuck it," breathed he, putting aside an internal battle and leaned closer, knocking aside the bottle of wine as he pressed his hungry lips to you.

Your lips felt plump against his, chewed with anticipation and soft with spit. You tasted like a perfect dessert.

Lost in the growing heat, you cradled his face, swiping your warm tongue over his needy lips and Carmen did not hesitate to grant you entrance. A desperate although soft whine escaped him and you swallowed it down, living for the way he desired you.

Without interrupting the dance your tongues twirled, Carmen's large palm grasped your hip and pulled you into his lap. Automatically you ground down on him and moaned at the sensation of what you did to him.

You'd thought about how he would feel against you. From behind the bar, you always had a perfect view of his station and often got distracted by the way he moved—the way his mouth curled when he would scream commands, the way his arms would flex as he worked. It was a surprise nobody had filed a complaint against you. On more than one occasion you had mixed the wrong drink or spilled liquor because you just couldn't keep your eyes off of him. It was unprofessional, but he was mesmerizing like a starry sky; the longer you looked, the deeper you fell into the abyss.

Carmen mumbled a curse under his breath as he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he ground up into your clothes sex.

"Do—doesn't feel so stupid, huh?"

You grinned and shook your head lightly, pressing your forehead against his.

"If we're gonna fuck we should probably talk about it," you said blatantly. "Set some ground rules."

Carmen was caught off guard for a second. He knew what he wanted but when you said it so casually it made something twitch in him.

His eyes were attached to your lips. They looked so delicious, kissed rough and he pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb before he even registered it.

"Probably," he breathed even though he wasn't quite sure what your words actually meant. He was quite literally thinking with his cock.

Carmen clashed his insatiable lips to yours again, but the second he did so, the back door to The Bear clicked open and Marcus appeared, garbage bags in hand. By the time you looked up at him, you had clumsily shuffled off of Carmen, sitting awkwardly with your legs to your chest. You weren't sure what he'd seen nor what he made of it.

"Hey," he hummed, moving to sling the plastic bags into the container.

"Sup, bro," acknowledged Carm, putting his hands on his hips, suddenly standing up, playing it cool.

"Imma call it a night," Marcus said. "See y'all tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh—good job t'day."

Marcus disappeared and Carmen looked back down at you, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. The interruption had broken the spell.

"Can I walk you home?" he offered. It made more sense to him, taking you home. He wasn't about to violate health code on the kitchen floor of his own restaurant.

"You live close to Maygrey?"

No.

"Yeah."

The walk might do him some good, he figured. Perhaps the chivalrous gesture would help him get lucky tonight, and even if you decided you were not about to fool around with him, he could at least say he had done a good deed today.

Carm hadn't realized you made a twenty-minute walk every night, and although he often did the same, it bothered him a great deal. He hadn't had any uncomfortable encounters himself, but he knew Sugar had. One time when she had been late to dinner at his place because of some creep bothering her on the street, and he had asked her why she hadn't called him (he would have picked her up), she told him it was not a first nor was it a last. It angered him, knowing it was not unusual for a woman to feel afraid when walking alone.

Carmen recalled your mention of ground rules, but you didn't once embark on the topic. Instead of talking about sex, you joked as if you were friends and nothing more. It made him wonder if you regretted kissing him.

Of course you invited him up. How could you not?

Carm looked dubious suddenly and you raised a brow, giving him a soft smile.

"I won't be mad if you turn me down now. No hard feelings."

He realized you were just a pair of self-doubting idiots—none of you wanting to pressure the other into something you might regret. And Carmen knew he might just do that—not because he was unsure whether he wanted this with you (he hadn't wanted something this much in a long time), no—he feared he would find himself in the same emotional clusterfuck he had with Claire.

Something about you made him want to throw caution to the wind and become the loverboy he so pathetically wanted to be for you.

How could he ever turn you down? A simple kiss in a back alley had dragged him in too deep.

You stood atop the staircase and watched curiously as Carmen closed the space. His hand cradled your face and he planted a soft kiss on your lips, not as vigorous a kiss as earlier that night, but just as hungry, just as passionate.

He then gave you a reassuring look and you knew you had it bad cause you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then.

Grabbing his hand you dragged him along with you, eagerly pulling him up the steps to your apartment, not wasting a goddamn second in connecting your lips again.

Carm chuckled against your lips as you pushed him into the door, closing it with him as if locking you away from the outside world. It was just the two of you.

Carmen was too far away to realize you had undone his belt until the familiar clinking sounded. He was so fucking hard by now, aroused by your eagerness. It was almost mortifying.

He composed himself. "Where's the bedroom?"

You gave him a look. "It's a one-room apartment, Carm."

For the first time, he looked around and got the message. The kitchen was awkwardly lodged into a small corner of the living room and the living room was also the bedroom. There was a door three feet ahead but he was unsure whether it was a closet or a bathroom.

"So when I fuck you on the couch I'll also be fucking you in the dining room?"

You looped your arms around his front from behind, pointing to the corner of the room. "Yeah, n'the trashcan over there's the bathroom."

He spun around, placing his large hands on your hips to keep you close. "Cozy."

There was a glimmering to his eyes, and his contagious charm infected you with an enticing smirk. You leaned in, cradling your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

"So you gonna fuck me Carmy? Or are ya just all talk?" teased you, planting wet kisses against his throat, sucking the place below his ear. That's the spot.

In a flash, he hooked your legs around his waist and you would've been embarrassed by the stupid fucking giggle escaping you if a low moan hadn't interrupted you. His restrained cock felt even bigger now, pressing up into your clothed crotch.

You could hardly wait to see his weeping head.

Carmen straddled you on the couch, breaking your lips apart to shift his focus. Peppering kisses down your neck, your chest heaved with a shaky breath, whining for him. You wondered if he would flip you over and fuck you roughly if you asked nicely.

Another time you told yourself. Tonight, you were too ecstatic as he worshipped your body like the prettiest fucking tenderloin he'd ever seen. The thought made you smile into your arm, gasping as his hot breath swept over your belly.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured against your skin, tongue poking out to taste the flesh.

Writhing beneath him, you tugged at his curls, and he swore he was about to bust right there, with your glossy and dazed eyes blinking down at him. Fuck, Carm wanted to hear you beg for him.

"What is it, baby girl?" he taunted, looking curiously at you while he peppered kisses across the skin he exposed by lifting up your shirt.

When you ground up your hips to show him where you wanted him, he kept you pressed against the cushion. You cried out.

"Carmy!" you mewled, helplessly thrashing.

After removing your shirt, he praised your patience: "you're so good for me," he said and unbuttoned your jeans. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl."

You threw your head back into a pillow with a thud, wanting to both strangle and fuck him (which you had wanted many times already since you started bartending at The Bear) as he pressed teasing, open-mouthed kisses by the seams of your panty line.

"Just—mpff! Fuck me already, Carm," you whined.

His face tilted up and you wanted to slap the smirk right off of his sly face. "In a minute, baby."

As he moved back a little, you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, but when you arched your back with need he used your movements to flip you onto your stomach. He roughly placed you as he pleased, propping you on your knees, and slid in under you.

"Just a quick taste, baby," he drawled.

Realizing he was gonna eat you out, you melted completely, seated perfectly on his face as was his wish. You barely managed to get comfortable before he hooked a finger through the leg of your underwear, the cold of his ring making you shiver and he dug in like a man starved.

A sound bordering on a thirsty moan and a dry cry escaped you. Carmen looped his arms around your thighs. His tongue explored the nooks of your lips, lapping slick from your folds and into your pussy.

A string of curses left your lips as he relished your juices, groaning into your cunt. He couldn't help but relieve some of the pressure on his impossibly hard cock by palming himself through his jeans.

He had lost himself for a moment there and when he looked up, he became doe-eyed with adoration. You had removed your bra.

His hand left his cock and slid up your curves, palming your breast instead and the other went to deftly work your clit. He elicited a muffled shriek from you, obviously surprised by the sudden added sensation to the delicate bud.

"Carmy," you panted, grinding your hips against his mouth, all of it seeming both too much and not enough. He was going to ruin you and you would let him. "Fu—fuck! M'gonna come, Carm."

Your confession merely made him more eager, more hungry and he concentrated on bringing you closer, encouraging each wave of your hips with a low moan. Carmen let you fuck his face, rolling and grinding on him to persuade your release closer. You grabbed at his curls to steady yourself as it came in euphoric waves, moaning, crying, whimpering, and grinning as he lapped your cum, savoring every last drop. It quickly became too much though, and as his nose tickled your sensitive clit, you fell apart, tilting over and crashing above him.

"Ho—holy fuck," you panted and he stood up from the couch, ridding himself of his clothes until there was nothing but a gold chain gleaming at his chest.

Still recovering from your orgasm, you gaped at his size. The head was red and strained, pre-cum beading the slit making it look like it was crying. The shaft was long with protruding veins drawing purple along the length and he was thick, too thick to fit in the circle created when you connect the tip of your index with that of your thumb.

He was perfect.

Carmen looked a bit flustered from your shameless gawking but you couldn't help it. "You're beautiful, Carm."

He grinned sheepishly down at you, grasping your legs, pulling you to the edge of the couch, resting your calves on his shoulders.

"You are," he insisted, pressing his lips to yours in a feverishly soft kiss as he aligned his head with your folds.

Gasping, you took a second to relax around his head, knowing it would sting painfully if you didn't. You wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. Not with his eyes gazing so intensely down at you; not with saliva connecting your mouths with a string, not with him before you like this, looking like he was carved by fucking Donatello, nothing hiding an inch of his tantalizingly soft skin bar the gold chain dangling from his neck.

You instinctively edged closer, putting a hand on his shoulder to guide him into you. He eased into you as he kissed you hungrily—insatiable, always needing more of your taste.

Carm held his breath as he bottomed out, finally exhaling a shaky breath. He couldn't believe how good you felt around him, hugging—no squeezing the life out of his cock as you desperately clawed on his back, feeling every cleft and hill, moaning into his mouth. He hoped your nails would leave marks on his skin.

With your forehead pressed against his, you looked down with hooded eyes and watch as he slid in, devastatingly slow, inch by inch. Carm followed your gaze.

"God, look how good you're takin' me, baby. Doin' so well f'me—doin' so good," he groaned, head digging into your neck, licking, sucking, biting.

He commenced a thrusting-grinding pace, reaching every crevice inside you, tickling all the right places. You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure so delicious as he poked and prodded places untouched. He felt unreal.

Soon Carmen drilled into you like a madman, steadying himself against your hips, rutting into you at a bruising pace. You'd feel him long after he was gone.

You held him close by his neck, securing him by threading your fingers through that damn sexy gold chain and the locks of his hair. His brows were furrowed, concentration and bliss evident in his expression.

You begged him to go faster, harder—before you knew it he granted your wish and his hand had returned to your poor clit, and you grasped whatever you could, the armrest, cushions, him.

You chanted his name, exchanging your vocabulary for his name so that he was all you knew. Carm fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own as you cried his name. The combination of your moans, your begging, and the vulgar sounds of your skin slapping—it made him fucking delirious.

His bicep flexed delectably as he put all his weight on his right arm, making a considerate pause for a sweet but overwhelmingly intense kiss, only to thrust impossibly deeper.

Feeling his consistent pace become erratic, you begged him. "Please, please, Carm—fill me up."

You could feel your frantic pleas going straight to his cock as he twitched inside you, groaning—but fuck it sounded like a frail whimper.

The furrow between his brows deepened, a red blush painting his face and chest.

"You're fuckin' unreal," he manages, shaking his head.

Carmy's pace became sloppier and more desperate, cursing into your mouth as he stuttered, a strangled moan signaling his high.

He filled you up, squirting white ropes of velvety cum into you. You felt his seed trickle out as if there was not enough room for his generous load. Then he collapsed beside you.

You lay still for a minute or so, chests heaving in unison as you came back down to Earth.

"Fuck," he said after some time, pronouncing the cuss as if he had just learned the word.

You chuckled, agreeing. "Yeah."

"Shit, lemme get ya somethin' for the—"

"No, no—don't worry," you stopped him, already getting up before he could do much. He watched you go, admiring your naked body. You reached between your legs, feeling his cum trickle down your thighs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Carmy laughed when he realized what was going on, a sort of childish grin he couldn't hold back from rumbling in his chest. He hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time.

You disappeared out of sight. He heard water running splash and he figured you were cleaning yourself. Carmen wondered if he would get to fill you up again—preferably sometime soon.

You returned with a damp washcloth, your feet padding softly against the floor as you approached him. Carm couldn't help but smile endearingly as he went to move to free up space for you, but you placed a soft hand on his thigh as if telling him to lie still instead.

"Oh—" he began when he noticed the washcloth, but to his surprise you wrapped your lips around his cock, earning a strangled moan from him. Your warm tongue licked him clean and you hollowed your cheeks around him as if vacuuming his mess.

The pleasure turned into a ticklish feeling and he felt like grinning and kicking his feet suddenly. You looked up through your lashes, and he felt as if his eyes had remolded into heart shapes.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with such tooth-rotting affection it made him wonder if he loved you. In this situation, it felt natural to say to you—it felt easy and welcome, right on the tip of his tongue.

You offered him an enchanting smile and took his large hand to your mouth, kissing his knuckles, then began cleaning his cock with the washcloth.

Carmen's head dropped back at your touch and he exhaled deeply.

A smile danced across his face and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand; the one you had kissed.

What am I going to do with you?

[xomakara]

Roomies With Benefits

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You have no choice but to be roommates with San when there is a glitch in the leasing office’s system. The more time that you live together, the more that you both can’t help but want each other. PAIRING | San x Reader GENRE | non-idol!San, College AU, Roommate trope, fake dating trope, smut with some plot, protected sex (wrap it up everyone!), vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 7,380 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | I would not mind living with San (or any of the other members) if there was a glitch in the system. LOL. Hope you all enjoy, reblog, like, comment~ Love you all ❤️

"There has to be misunderstanding," You looked at the management team of your apartment complex. "There's no way that you could lease the unit to two people who signed two different leases at different times. Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"My system shows that both you and Mr Choi are on the lease..." The manager searched for something on his tablet. "I will double check with my secretary to confirm if everything is correct. We should have an answer by tomorrow afternoon. Until then, can you and Mr Choi share the unit?"

You shook your head. There was no way that you'd share the apartment with Choi San, the most popular guy on campus and your arch rival since freshman year. Okay, sure he was stupidly, insanely hot with a sexy brain to boot but he wasn't someone you would ever let into your personal space, much less share the same living space.

There was also the small fact that he was one of the most eligible bachelors at school and always getting girls all over him. He had dated many of them before they got tired of playing second fiddle to his social life or wanted to get closer to his family money. You had seen him flirting with women during lunch, talking to his other stupidly, insanely hot friends about how he couldn't wait to bang yet another girl later that night. Every time he turned around, some new girl was ogling at him and that infuriated you.

Not that you hadn't had your fair share of guys sliding into your DMs just because they were interested in you, trying to impress you with expensive gifts or showing up on campus with roses, candy and other 'cute' things just to see you smile and notice them. Sure you were the Queen Bee on campus, even with barely any effort on your part, but that didn't mean you needed everyone else telling you how pretty and desirable you were, did it?

No. You were perfectly fine being single, thank you very much.

But it seemed like this misunderstanding would force you to spend more time together. How terrible.

"Let's just share the apartment for one night." San spoke up, the manager giving him a small nod. "Tomorrow, we expect answers."

You walked out of the management office, a scowl on your face as you waited for the elevator. San was by your side, tapping his foot impatiently while keeping an eye on your reactions. You were tired and just didn't feel like arguing with him right now.

"Let's just get to the apartment and figure something out." San muttered next to you. "It's probably not a big deal."

You sighed. "If only it were that simple." You tried to find the quickest route to the apartment unit so you could get away from him.

The last thing you needed right now was to come across San and a lot of sexual tension going through the roof, only making you more irritable than you already were. You hated how badly you wanted him, hated yourself for reacting the way you did whenever he was near you. It was disgusting, embarrassing and it made you want to punch the wall.

Shit. This was bad. Really bad.

San noticed the look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You said as you approached the front door and opened it. You looked at the boxes that littered the living room area, both yours and his mingled together in a weird mixture of feminine and masculine decor.

He sighed and followed you inside. "Are you sure you're okay? Everything seems fine to me. What's the problem?"

"We need to share this apartment tonight." You stated matter-of-factly. "That means I'll be sleeping here with you. By tomorrow, the whole campus is going to talk about how the Queen Bee and Alpha Male hooked up. No way can that happen. My reputation is on the line."

"And what do you care about your reputation?" He asked, walking towards you. You backed up against the door, causing him to stop.

"You know I care about my image." You snapped back. "Besides, I've worked too hard to maintain my social status for me to lose it because of a mistake."

His eyes narrowed as he took in your features. His nostrils flared slightly, his gaze darkening with every passing second. You knew what he was doing and you wished you could say something, stop him from approaching you and taking you against the door like a predator chasing down its prey.

Your heartbeat accelerated and your body started to react in ways you never expected, long buried desires resurfacing once again, feelings stirring deep within your heart.

If he touched you right now, you wouldn't fight him. You'd let him take you and fuck you into oblivion until neither of you could walk. All you cared about was his lips on your neck, his hands running along your hips and thighs, your fingers entwined with his. You'd be content to go slow and explore your bodies for hours, waiting for the moment when he finally plunged into you, thrusting hard and fast until you couldn't take anymore.

Instead, you were stuck with San, who was staring at you with his hot brown eyes, and even though he didn't touch you, the longing in his stare burned hotter than the fire raging behind his irises. You were powerless to do anything but stand there, watching him silently and hoping that he would finally make his move.

But he didn't. He turned away and gestured to the door of the bedroom. "Take the room. I'll sleep on the couch tonight. Hopefully, tomorrow we can find out why there was a mix-up and we won't have to worry about this shit anymore."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" You asked hesitantly. He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he stared at you intently.

"Yeah, take it." San nodded. "Despite all the things you hear about me on campus, I don't go around sleeping with women without their consent. Even you, Queen Bee. I respect that. Just take the room."

"Thank you." You breathed softly, thankful for his generosity and maturity. With a slight sigh, you walked towards the bedroom and closed the door behind you. You locked it and crawled onto the bed, pulling the blanket over your body and laying there for a few seconds before turning off the lights.

You lay on the bed for a few minutes, wondering what had gotten into San. Why did he suddenly act so mature? And was it really possible that you weren't imagining things earlier? Did he actually desire you as well?

It felt like a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders. Yes, maybe it was a mix-up and the leasing office really did mess up your contracts. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out just fine.

With those thoughts filling your mind, you fell asleep quickly.

You woke up slowly, disoriented from the light pouring into the room. Your heart raced as your eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Slowly opening your eyes, you blinked several times, your eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling above you.

Getting up and unlocking the door to the bedroom to make your way to the kitchen, you looked at San's figure as he snoozed away on the couch. The covers were pulled up to his chin and his shirt was partially undone, exposing a sliver of chestnut skin.

For a moment, you just stood there and watched him sleep, the excitement from yesterday still lingering on your skin.

You started up the coffee machine, brewed a fresh pot and made your way to one of the boxes in the living one that had your clothes packed in. Careful to not wake San up, you closed the bathroom door behind you and locked it so that you could shower in peace.

After taking a quick shower, you dried yourself off and put on your clothes. You made your way back to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar to sweeten it a little. As you sipped on the delicious black liquid, you leaned against the counter and browsed on your phone. A minute passed before you heard the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor, followed by a yawn.

"Good morning." San said with a soft smile as you poured him a cup of coffee and slid it towards him.

"Morning." You replied. "After you get ready for the day, let's go down to the leasing office and see what they say."

"Sure." He said as he gulped down half his coffee, eyes trained on your form as you took another sip. You knew exactly what was going through his head and you didn't think he was going to be able to hide it from you anytime soon. The expression on his face was clear evidence that he liked what he saw.

About half an hour later, you and San both made your way to the leasing office. Walking past the crowds of students that congregated outside the main building, you arrived at the office and entered the queue. After a short wait, you finally reached the front desk and signed your name on the sign-in sheet.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience." The manager apologized again as he looked at you and San. "Unfortunately, there was a glitch in the system and I'm afraid that our records show that we mistakenly assigned you the same unit."

"There's no other units that are available? Not even in a different location?" San inquired, a frown etched across his brow.

"There's nothing left." The manager shook his head. "All the other units have already been filled by other students that are no longer living in the dorms, sorority or frat houses."

"When is the next available unit?" You asked, putting on your best poker face. "How long will it take for us to get one?"

The manager paused for a moment, seemingly torn between wanting to tell you that there wasn't another unit available and being worried about offending you by saying so. "I'm so very sorry but there won't be any available units until the next school year. You may have to find someplace else to live if you cannot accept that."

"That won't be necessary." San interrupted. "I'm sure Miss Y/N and I will figure something out."

"That's good." The manager gave you a sympathetic smile before looking back at San. "Well, if you need anything at all, please let me know. If you need help finding a new place, I'm happy to assist."

San nodded and gave the man a polite smile before turning towards you. "We should go. Let's head back to the apartment."

You followed him back to the elevator, ignoring all the curious glances that the both of you attracted. Some people didn't know why you two were sharing an apartment, others were just trying to catch a glimpse of San and you, others were already forming their opinions and thoughts of the two hottest people on campus and if they were really dating. Either way, everyone wanted to know the answers to these questions.

By the time you got to the apartment unit, the sun had almost set and nightfall was upon you. Both of you dumped your bags inside the apartment and decided to sit down on the couch.

"So..." San said, breaking the silence. "I guess we're going to spend our last year of university in the same unit..."

You nodded. "Yep."

"Let's try to work something out. Why don't you continue to stay in the bedroom and I'll stay on the couch for the time being?"

"I can't let you sleep on the couch forever, San." You protested.

"Then just let me stay in the bedroom until we find another solution." He suggested. "Unless you don't want to share the bed with me either?"

"I-I'm fine with sharing." You stammered out, avoiding eye contact with him. There was a nervous twitch dancing on the end of your lips as you felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

"What are you thinking about, Y/N?" San asked, bringing your attention back to him. His eyes flickered from side to side, peeking at your lips before landing on your eyes.

"Oh...nothing." You mumbled, averting your gaze. "I can already hear the rumours..."

"Then why don't we just date?" San suggested. "At least to the public. No one will bat an eye if we said that we moved in together because after being a couple for a few months. But in private, we'll just be two roommates. Nothing more."

"Maybe...maybe we should do that." You murmured softly. Your cheeks grew redder and your voice was barely audible. You could feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest as your pulse raced in anticipation of what San would say next.

"I promise I won't touch you unless you ask me to." San said softly. "And I won't demand anything sexual from you."

You swallowed heavily, biting your lip as you met San's intense gaze. "You...you're sure?"

"Of course I am." He said firmly. "I don't want to pressure you into doing anything that you aren't comfortable with. So I'll leave it up to you."

Tilting your head to the side, you tried to decide how to respond. If this was truly the only option you had, then perhaps dating San would work out. “Okay, fine.” You sighed, giving in. “We’ll try it. But if I ever start feeling uncomfortable or I don’t want to date you anymore, you better not hold it against me.”

"Deal, now why don't we start unpacking?" San suggested, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. "This is going to be our home for the next year. Let's make it a nice home, okay?"

He was right. This would be your home for the next year and you should make the most of it. Putting aside your worries for the moment, you grabbed your bag and followed San into the bedroom. Once you had unpacked your stuff, you sat down on the edge of the bed while San sorted out the rest of his belongings. You both then moved to the living room and settled on opposite sides of the couch.

"I can already see the look on your friends' faces when we tell them that we're 'dating'. They probably think that we're crazy and that we're playing games. They'll see right through us." You remarked.

"Then should we practice on making it look real?" San asked. "Or is that asking too much?"

“I don’t think I have it in me.” You shrugged. “But if it makes you feel better…”

With a smile plastered across his face, San leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. It wasn’t overly romantic and it was brief, but it showed enough of his intentions to get you to agree to his plan. You hadn’t expected that kissing him would make you feel tingly inside, but your stomach fluttered as he pressed his lips to yours. You could taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue and you couldn’t help but pull him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Before you knew it, you found yourself pinned to the sofa by San, unable to move or resist his grip.

"Y/N..." San whispered hoarsely. "Do you want to stop this or...?"

"I...don't know..." You confessed, not wanting to lie. "We can keep kissing...but nothing else tonight."

He looked into your eyes, a brief smile gracing his beautiful lips. "Okay, I could deal with only kissing." He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the idea. "Though...if you change your mind, just give me a sign and I'll stop immediately."

Relieved, you smiled softly at San before nodding slightly. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

"Okay, then I'm going to kiss you some more." San purred, leaning in once again. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

His lips descended slowly over yours, igniting your body with passion. He tasted like coffee and mint toothpaste and he smelled amazing. His hands explored your waistline, slipping under the material of your shirt. All you wanted was to feel San’s skin against yours. To feel every inch of his muscular frame pressed against you. To inhale the scent of his cologne and bask in the warmth radiating off his body. With those thoughts in mind, you leaned forward and ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him tighter against you.

Your kisses became deeper, your breathing erratic as you moaned louder than you intended. Your hips arched upwards, pressing against San's crotch. A small groan escaped his throat as you began kissing him harder, your breath hot and ragged against his ear.

You weren't aware that your fingernails dug into his scalp as you felt him push against you, trying to make you moan louder. "Y/N..." San moaned as you bit down on his earlobe, sending chills down your spine. "We should stop...while we can."

You lifted your head, panting heavily as you gazed at San. "Yeah, yeah we should stop." You agreed, trying to steady your heartbeat.

Damn, living with San was going to be interesting.

That night you laid in bed under the covers as you turned your head to watch San snoozed next to you on top of the covers. You stared at his sleeping form for several minutes before realizing that you were staring at him. You smiled softly as you layed back down, curling up beside him. After a few moments, San opened his eyes and gazed at you.

"Are you awake?" He asked quietly.

"Mmhmm, yes I am." You responded softly. "Hard to sleep with someone lying next to you isn't it?"

San rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "It certainly can be." He murmured. "But I've been doing it for so long that I just kind of accepted it."

"I guess I haven't gotten used to having someone next to me yet." You commented with a small chuckle.

"The Queen Bee is not used to having someone next to her?" San teased. "How strange."

Shaking your head, you smiled. "No, not at all. I know I get plenty of male attention being the Queen Bee on campus but I just turn everyone down. I guess it's because I prefer spending my time alone. Besides, the guys who are attracted to me are creeps anyway."

"I'm attracted to you." San chuckled. "Does that make me a creep?"

"There's no way you're attracted to me, Choi San." You replied, shaking your head again. "I'm not exactly your type."

"Who says you're not my type?" He countered. "All the other girls that try to get into my pants? You don't think I notice you?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes at San's persistence. He was determined to prove his point, despite the fact that you still disagreed with him. "Look, I'm flattered that you think I'm attractive but-"

"No, Y/N." San interrupted. "Just hear me out. You're beautiful, smart and funny. Plus, you don't put up with any crap from anyone. Do you know how rare that is?"

For the first time since San spoke, you stopped to think about his words. "Am I really that special?" You asked.

"You're pretty damn special, actually." San admitted. "I don't know why you don't think you're attractive if half the student body and myself fall at your feet."

Laughing lightly, you shook your head. "I think I'd rather spend my time alone than get wrapped up in relationships." You decided. "Besides, I'm not interested in hook ups."

"You didn't say that when we kissed earlier." San pointed out.

"I-it was different!" You protested. "A kiss doesn't mean I want to have sex with you!"

San smirked. "Why did you kiss me then? Just to test the waters?"

Blushing bright red, you ducked your head low as San reached out and gently stroked your cheek. "Not necessarily..." You muttered, glancing away.

"Don't be embarrassed by what happened earlier." San said, placing a finger underneath your chin and lifting your head. "I liked kissing you and I know you like kissing me too. If you don't want to do anything else tonight, then that's fine with me. But you need to at least admit that there's something between us."

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you fought back the desire to lean forward and kiss him. "So what do you suggest we do instead?" You asked.

"Well..." San trailed off. "There is one thing I've always wanted to do with you."

"Oh?" You asked.

"Mmhm." San nodded. "I was hoping that maybe you'd let me kiss you again."

A grin tugged at the corner of your mouth as you watched San's face light up. "I'm not opposed to another kiss." You admitted. "But..."

"But?" San prompted.

"I was thinking..." You trailed off, trying to find the right words. "Maybe we could just go slow and enjoy each other's company."

San regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, I can do that." He said. "Tonight's the first night we live together so it'll be the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other. We can take things easy and see where they lead us."

You placed a hand on San's cheek, tracing his soft features with your thumb. "I like the sound of that." You told him. "Now you can kiss me."

For the remainder of the night, you were lost in his kisses.

It had been several weeks since you and San started living together as roommates. In the comfort of your own home, the both of you led your private lives away from the prying eyes of others. Nowadays, the both of you would talk for hours on end about your day or complain about the latest episode of your favourite drama. You never thought that being able to converse with someone was such a relief, especially after a stressful week at work or class.

When the both of you were out in public together, you both played your parts as a couple convincingly. You'd hold hands with San, kiss him, blush when his hand slid lower than where it needed to be and even grab onto his arm whenever the conversation turned serious. Even San's friends were convinced that the both of you were dating and no one batted an eye when you came out of the bathroom in the middle of the party to hug San, accidentally brushing your breast against his arm or when he would wrap an arm around your waist to pull you close to him and kiss your forehead.

Friends would ask about your sex life but you clearly didn't have one. At least not yet. You were content spending the night in bed telling each other stories or just cuddling while watching television. Exchanging kisses every now and then but making sure to limit yourselves to making out and no further. It wasn't that you didn't want to have sex with San, it was just that you weren't ready for a relationship at this point in your life. Not to mention that you didn't want to rush into anything. If you took your time getting to know San better, it would make everything less awkward when the time finally came.

And then San's friend Wooyoung wanted to throw a small get-together at the apartment.

"Why does everyone want to throw a party here?" You complained as you walked into the kitchen. "Can't anyone take care of their own parties?"

"Scared that everyone will find out?" San teased you.

"How will they find out when our apartment has both of our stuff scattered everywhere?" You mumbled. "Our apartment literally looks like a couple. If anyone steps into the bedroom, I will murder someone."

San chuckled as he stood beside you, handing you a cup of tea. "I know you'd rather be curled up on the couch with a book but let's try to keep appearances up tonight. Okay?"

You sighed, taking the offered cup. "Fine."

Wooyoung had invited all of his friends and a few girls from the campus. Although you didn't want to mingle with the others, you did it for San's sake. But as the night progressed, you became increasingly bored. Most of the guys in attendance were there to ogle over the attractive women but San stuck close to you the entire time. The girls, on the other hand, kept flirting and vying for San's attention but he refused them all politely.

He only had eyes for you.

Sighing, you excused yourself from the room to use the restroom. After finishing your business, you left the restroon and tried looking for a seat but noticed that they were all taken. Everyone was drinking, eating, and conversing with each other. When San saw you standing there, he gestured you over to him, only to pull you into his lap.

"San!" You whispered, his hands resting on your hips.

"Shh...it's time to play house." San murmured huskily into your ear. "Need to keep up the charade."

You blushed deeply, glancing around at the amused stares of his friends. For the sake of San, you accepted his invitation to stay seated on his lap. At first, it seemed innocent enough, but soon you could feel San running a hand up and down your back, his soft fingers caressing your bare thigh. The tips of his fingers slowly inched higher until they brushed against the bottom of your skirt.

"San..." You whispered again, surprised by his sudden boldness.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" He breathed into your ear. "Please? I really want to kiss you right now."

Your breath hitched in your throat, knowing full well what he meant. Not that you were opposed to kissing San, you enjoyed the feel of his lips pressed against yours whenever you got the chance. But he'd never made a move on you like this before in public. Sure, you'd gotten hugs and a quick peck on the cheek from him for appearances sake but none of those kisses made your heart race like this.

"What do you think?" San whispered, pulling back from your ear long enough to meet your gaze.

"In front of everyone?" You questioned quietly.

"Baby, we need to give them a show so they can get up and leave the apartment." He reasoned. "Besides, I've been thinking about kissing you this whole day. And you looked so sexy today, dressed in that short skirt and that tight, sexy top. So yes, in front of everyone is exactly where I want to be kissing you."

With a soft sigh, you reluctantly nodded. "Alright, let's give them something to watch."

Slowly, San pulled you closer, placing his free hand on the nape of your neck, gently holding your head still. Then, with his mouth just inches away from yours, San whispered, "Kiss me, Y/N."

You closed your eyes and lowered your head, offering your lips to San without hesitation. In return, San captured your lips in a gentle kiss that melted your insides and made you gasp. Your mouths remained connected, devouring each other with lustful desire. There was no hesitation, no inhibitions; it was purely a display of raw lust and intense passion.

The way he held you, tenderly caressing your back, sending goosebumps all over your body and the pressure of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine. All you wanted to do was to run your fingers through his messy, black hair and slip your arms around his neck, begging him to touch you wherever he pleased.

As if reading your mind, San broke the kiss, grinning as he rested his forehead against yours. "Well, are you satisfied?"

Hearing San speak like that caused your cheeks to burn red. "You could say that." You replied, a little breathless.

"Good." San grinned, lightly running his fingers down your side.

You heard a cough and you both looked up to see Wooyoung staring at the two of you with a smug grin on his face. "Sooooo, is this the cue for us to end the party and go home so that ya'll can fuck each other senseless? Because that's what I'm hearing."

San chuckled lightly as he rose to his feet, pulling you along with him. "Yep, I guess that is what we're doing. Time to shut the party down. Y/N is feeling tired."

"Tired, my ass." Wooyoung sneered, eyeing the two of you with amusement. "You guys are just horny. Look how the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other."

"Once you get a taste of pussy, you can't get enough of it." San commented and you couldn't help but bury your head in his shoulder out of sheer embarrassment. You looked up at San and he grinned down at you.

"Alright, folks. Party is over." You announced. "Go home so that I can have my boyfriend all to myself. Bye!"

You smiled brightly as you waved goodbye to everyone. Soon, the apartment was empty except for the two of you and it felt nice to finally be alone with San again. As soon as you sat on the couch, San's hands grabbed onto your thighs and pulled you closer to him.

"You don't have to pretend anymore, baby." San whispered in your ear, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "All of these people aren't here to judge you. We can enjoy ourselves in our own little world."

He stroked your leg softly, trailing his fingers down the edge of your skirt.

"It feels good to not have to act like we have a charade going on." You murmured, smiling up at San.

"Why don't we make this charade real then?" San gave you a mischievous smile, unbuttoning your tight shirt and letting it fall to the floor. "Why don't we live in reality instead of this fantasy that we're putting on for everyone else?"

"San...what are you-"

But before you could finish your sentence, San reached up and cupped your face with his hands, giving you a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. Once he released your lips, you stared up at him with wide eyes. "Baby, I don't want to just kiss anymore. It's so hard for me to control myself around you. I want to throw you over the couch, tear your clothes off and fuck you until neither of us can move anymore."

"I know you want it too, Y/N. It shows in the way you look at me sometimes." San admitted, leaning down to give you another gentle kiss. "When you kiss me sometimes. When you wear these sexy clothes and don't think I'm not paying attention to you. I pay attention, I pay so much attention that I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you're screaming my name. I want you, baby. More than I ever thought possible. I want to lose myself in you. Take you any which way I please. Make you scream my name so loud that everyone within earshot knows who you belong to."

Fuck, you wanted this man. So bad that you ached in places that you never knew existed. Your body hummed with pleasure as you moaned against San's lips. "And why hold it in?" You whimpered, raising your hand to trace the outline of San's jawline.

"Because you're a queen that deserves to be treated like one." San growled, slowly slipping his tongue into your open mouth. "And if my queen wanted to wait and take things slow, then I would respect her wishes. I would wait until she wants me inside of her, filling her with the sweet warmth of my love."

You gasped as his warm tongue slid over yours. His kiss was different from the ones you shared in the past. Now, it wasn't as if you two were strangers; there was an unspoken connection between you two that grew deeper with every passing second. "And now?"

"I want you, Y/N. I want you more than anything in this world." San rasped. "Tonight, I want you in ways that I haven't even imagined before. You've made me realize that there are a lot of things I've never experienced in life, and now that I have you, I plan on experiencing everything."

Your heart swelled in your chest as you gazed at San with longing. You leaned forward, pressing your lips against San's once again, wanting nothing more than to be in his embrace forever.

This. Was. It.

"I want you too." You mumbled against his lips. "Every part of you, San."

A single hand ran through your hair, tugging gently while the other caressed your cheekbone. Your hands grasped the sides of his shirt, gently pulling it upward until it fell to the floor with a thud.

"Oh God, baby." San moaned as you kissed your way down his neck, leaving a trail of fire-like kisses along his collar bone. When you finally stopped teasing him, you placed your palms against his muscular stomach and ran them downward until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Slowly, you unzipped his pants, revealing his hard length for the very first time.

"San...you're so beautiful." You breathed, caressing his shaft with trembling fingers. "I've always loved the way you smell, but seeing you with your pants undone, sporting a cock so big and thick in front of me has made me a complete mess."

He groaned as you took his dick into your hand, admiring the thickness and length of it. It was perfectly shaped and there was a huge vein pulsating down its center, stretching out towards the tip of his erection. His dick was so perfect, so breathtaking, that you had a difficult time keeping yourself from taking him into your mouth and sucking on it.

Instead, you cupped his balls in one hand and began massaging them with the other, causing him to groan even louder.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" He asked in between pants.

"Is it working?" You teased.

"Yes..." He muttered through clenched teeth. "More, baby. Please, give me more."

His words fueled your already raging desire for him. You squeezed his balls harder, eliciting a low moan from him. You dropped to your knees and started to pull his underwear down until they pooled at his ankles. San threw his head back, moaning louder as your mouth descended upon his cock, tasting the salty essence of pre-cum as you engulfed the entirety of him in your mouth.

"You're such a good girl." San moaned, running his hands through your hair as you pleasured him. "So eager to please. So eager to swallow my cum, just like you swallowed all of me. That's it, Y/N. Suck it like you mean it. Suck it like you fucking love it."

Breathing heavily, you licked the head of his dick, humming as you continued to suck on him. The taste of him was intoxicating, addicting, almost like drinking your favorite cocktail. Each time you slid your mouth further down, taking him deeper into your throat, you felt yourself getting lost in his intoxicating scent.

Soon, you found yourself drooling over the sight of his dick sliding between your lips. And as you looked up at him with hooded eyes, you noticed the way he looked at you. Like you were his entire universe. Like you were meant to be his.

"Please..." San whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Take it all."

You hummed against him, continuing to stroke him in a circular motion with your hand as you kept up with your ministrations with your mouth. You could feel him getting close to climax, so you slowed down, taking his dick out of your mouth. "Cum for me, San. Coat my throat with your cum."

You wanted him to cum so badly. You wanted him to fill your mouth with his semen so that you could drink it down greedily. "Let it flow, San. Let it all flow down my throat."

A few seconds later, you heard San release a strangled gasp. A second after that, he flooded your mouth with his cum, shooting stream after stream down your throat.

It didn't matter if you weren't prepared for it. All that mattered was that San came, and that he did it because of you.

As he pumped out the last of his semen into your mouth, you felt the vibrations in his dick as he became still. A moment later, you took the head of his dick into your mouth, sucking the remaining cum off of him. Then, you raised your head and looked up at San, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Did I do good?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you watched him carefully.

"You blew me away, baby." San chuckled, reaching out to touch your cheek. "And now I really want to fuck you."

"Mmm, okay." You nodded. "That sounds like a great idea."

With a wicked grin, San wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up off the ground, carrying you over to the bedroom. Once he laid you down on the bed, he climbed atop you, kissing your forehead, his hands pulling off the last of your clothes. After that, his lips followed their path southward, lingering against your skin as his mouth moved down to tease your breasts.

Once his lips latched onto your nipples, he began sucking gently on them, occasionally releasing them to circle around them with his tongue. At the same time, his fingers began circling around your core, his thumb dipping between your folds and pushing into you with soft, tender strokes.

"Ahh..." You cried out as your entire body began to tingle. "S-San!"

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." San murmured against your breast. "Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

Gathering all of your courage, you pulled his face upwards and locked eyes with him. "Do whatever you want with me, San. Do whatever you need to do to get you off. Fuck me however you want. But please...fuck me hard."

At the sound of your begging, San laughed softly and said, "Well, when you put it that way...you make it very difficult to refuse."

Grabbing a condom out of the nightstand drawer, he ripped it open with his teeth, using his other hand to roll it down his throbbing member. Soon enough, he positioned himself between your legs and settled himself on top of you, sinking into your wet heat with one thrust.

It was the best feeling you'd ever experienced. Being completely filled by this man. This man who you desperately wanted to claim as your own.

San grabbed your wrists, pinning them over your head as he started to pump his hips, slowly. "God, you feel amazing." He grunted. "You're so tight around me. So hot. So fucking hot. I can't believe that I'm finally here, buried deep inside of you. Your pussy is tighter than I could have ever dreamed of. How is that even possible?"

"Fuck, San..." You panted, rocking your hips underneath him. "Keep going."

"Okay." San replied, smiling as he pushed into you harder. "You want it harder? Okay, I'll give it to you."

One of San's hands went to your hip, gripping you tightly as he slammed into you. His other hand gripped your hair, bringing your face closer to his as he bit down on your shoulder. "Fuck, baby." He whispered. "Your tits look amazing bouncing in the air."

"Does it feel good, Y/N?" He whispered, pushing into you even harder. "Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Ahhh..." You cried out. "I like this, San. Just keep doing this. Keep doing exactly what you're doing."

His lips left your shoulder and traveled to your ear where he nibbled lightly on your lobe. "I love the way you say my name." He murmured, brushing his nose across your cheek. "It's so sexy. So, so fucking sexy."

He then trailed kisses down your neck, pausing to kiss and suck your collar bone as he continued to plunge into you. Before long, he was running his lips back up to your ear, whispering against it. "Y/N, are you ready for me to take you to heaven and back? Because I am. I am right now. As soon as you let go, I'll take you to paradise and fuck you until we both pass out from exhaustion."

"Oh god, San..." You whimpered, tightening your thighs around him. "Take me there. Take me to paradise. Don't stop fucking me. Never stop fucking me. Don't you dare stop fucking me."

"Never." He agreed, running his hand over your ass as he increased his pace, slamming into you over and over again. "I don't ever plan on stopping."

"Yes, yes, yes!" You screamed, burying your head into the pillow beneath you as San increased his speed yet again. You dug your nails into the mattress as you panted loudly, attempting to regain your breath. "San, oh god, San!"

"Cum for me, baby." He panted against your ear. "Can you cum for me?"

"Yes!" You cried out, arching your back and grabbing hold of the sheets, wrapping your fingers around them. "I'm coming! Oh god, I'm coming!"

A few seconds later, San's entire body stiffened and his dick began pulsating inside of you. For a brief moment, his cock twitched as he held onto you for dear life before the orgasm hit him and washed over him. He fell forward onto your chest, gasping for breath as you clung to him. When he caught his breath, he pulled out of you, sitting upright on the bed next to you and pulled the condom off of his dick. With a small smile, he tossed it onto the floor, then collapsed beside you, spooning you from behind.

After several minutes, you finally recovered from your near death experience and opened your eyes. You smiled softly as you saw San lying naked next to you.

"Hey." He murmured, brushing his fingertips along your arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You assured him, snuggling into him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" San asked, stroking your arm with his thumb.

"No, you didn't hurt me." You giggled. "Actually, it felt pretty damn amazing."

"I'm glad." San sighed. "And to think that we've been living together all this time and haven't done this. We definitely need to remedy that situation."

You couldn't help but laugh as you pressed a kiss to his lips. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Anytime, anywhere." San grinned. "I don't care. As long as it involves you and me and lots of sex."

"Oh, we can definitely work with that." You giggled. "Speaking of which...I'm kind of curious about something."

"What's that?" San asked, running his hand up and down your thigh.

"Now that this whole thing has happened...are we still playing pretend or...?"

"We're not pretending anymore, Y/N." San interrupted you. "From now on, you're mine and I'm yours."

You swallowed nervously. "Yours?"

"I'm saying that we're together, baby." San explained, pulling you in close. "For real this time. No more games. No more pretending."

You smiled softly, resting your head against San's chest. "That makes me really happy, San."

"Now that that's settled," he murmured against your neck, "how about we get this night started again? Because I know I can't wait any longer to fuck you again."

"San!" You let out a laugh as you squirmed in his arms. "Don't you dare."

"...Too late." San smirked as he slid into you. "I told you that I wouldn't stop until I fucked you again. And I meant every word."

And he certainly wasn't kidding.

[basilpaste]

i had a whole big idea for this, but im afraid im not terribly good at comics! or drawing fast!!! but its isas birthday!!! happy birthday!!

(the gifts are under the cut! written out!)

"Thank you! But, oh Change, you really didn't have to get little ol' me anything, ehe!"

"Nonsense, Isabeau." Odile huffs fondly. "You're part of our little team, after all. Did you think we'd forget?"

Maybe a little? You don't even entirely remember telling them about your birthday! From the look on Mira's face, though, you must have told her. It seems like she orchestrated the whole thing.

She claps her hands together cheerfully, "So! Who wants to go first!"

Bonnie waves their hands wildly, hopping up and down. "Oh!! Oh me! I want to give Za my gift!!!"

Heh! It doesn't seem like anyone's willing to fight them on it. After a moment of silence, they cheer, rushing off to heft up a small gift bag. They hurtle back towards you and present the bag dramatically.

You gingerly take the bag from them and pull it open. Inside is a-

"WAUGH?" You yelp, dropping it!

The bag falls on its side, sending the contents tumbling out. A spider?! A spider!

A... spider-shaped pin cushion.

Oh.

Bonnie lets out a long hard laugh, pointing at you, "Hahah!!! You thought it was a real spider!! Spiders don't get that big, dummy!"

"You'd be surprised," Sif speaks up, batting their lashes oh-so innocently.

You shiver. Bonnie also shivers.

"Thank you Bonbon for the pin cushion." You say, grabbing it off the ground.

... Stabbing a spider-shaped thing might feel kinda nice, actually. It was obviously a prank gift, but you'll still get plenty of use out of it!

Bonnie grins at you brightly.

Odile steps up next, bowing her head to you. She passes you a neatly wrapped box. You carefully remove the paper (its pretty!) and unfold the box.

Oh! A book!

Colour Me Curious: A History Of Colour Theory.

"Back in Dormont's House," she glances back at Sif when she says the word Dormont, you pretend you don't see, "you mentioned having an interest in colour theory. A librarian a few towns back recommended this to me. I figured you might enjoy it."

You nod rapidly. Oh!! You're surprised you haven't looked into it yet! You're not sure how you forgot! Especially considering the weird shade - colour - you all have seen! With your eyes!

"Thank you, m'dame!!" You say, trying to be mindful of your volume.

She smiles, "Of course. I'd like to hear what you take from it."

"Of course!!"

"Okay! Okay, um... me next!" Mira pulls two boxes from her dress pocket (?????) and holds them anxiously, "I shouldn't have gotten two! I don't want to overshadow anyone else! But! I think you'd like these both! So! So. I got them both! Happy birthday, Isabeau!!"

You scoop them from her arms, "I don't think anyone is worried about you overshadowing them, Mira!"

The rest of your friends hum in agreement.

"Okay."

A beat.

"Start with the smaller one!"

The smaller one turns out to be a light novel of some sort. Oh! She's talked about this one before!! How she thought you'd like it because it's super cute! You thank her and place it softly on top of Odile's gift before turning your attention to the larger box.

This is...

"Oh?" You squeak, feeling a little choked up.

"Oh?" Mira echoes, "Oh no! Do you- do you not like it?"

You grab the gift from its box, running your hand along the grain. Oh no! You might cry! Oh Change!

"Mira!! Mira this is so expensive? This is so much?" You feel unworthy to even hold it.

This is like... three meters of silk?? It's dyed such a rich lightless shade? That's unbelievably expensive!! It's beautiful and so well made that you're not sure what to do with yourself. Oh crab.

"It wasn't so bad, really!!" She yelps, worry clouding her expression.

You very softly (very, very carefully) tuck the silk back into its gift box. Then you throw yourself at Mira, sweeping her up into a tight hug. She cries out, clinging to you. And then bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Thank you thank you thank you???"

"Waaa!!" She laughs, "I'm glad you like it!!!"

"I know I know lightless isn't really your shade but you HAVE to let me make you a bow with this, Mira!!"

"Ah!! If you want to!!"

"I Do!!"

"Okay!"

You pull away from the hug, glancing back at the silk. You feel your chest swell with joy!! Oh Change!! This is so much stuff! And you're still not done!

Sif looks... a little bit nervous. They shift the box they're holding in their hands and shuffle up to you. After a moment of hesitation, he holds it out.

"... Happy birthday, Isa."

You take the box with care. It's small, but heavier than you're expecting. There's a bow on top that Bonbon snatches after you take it off. All of these gifts have been a surprise! But you're really not sure what Sif got you!

You open the box.

A piece of lightless fabric sits under the lid. It's embroidered! Not perfect or flawless, but done with care. Darkless spots are scattered on its surface and in big capital letters, it reads "You're A Star!"

Oh!! You get this joke, now! It used to only make sense to Sif but you know now!! Your chest feels light. You laugh.

"There's more." They say quietly.

You nod, gingerly removing the embroidery and setting it to the side. It reveals... a wood carving!! You pull the carving from the box, turning it over in your hands. This is you!!! It's a carving of you!!

How did you not notice him working on it??

"Sif!!" You gasp, "Sif it's perfect!!!"

"O-Oh?"

"This is beautiful!!! You made this? And the patch??"

He looks away, hiding his face in his cloak, "Um... yeah."

"I love them!" You grin so wide it hurts your face, "I love you! All of you!! This is all so... ah!! I need to start thinking about gifts for your birthdays, now!!"

"How about we finish celebrating yours first?" M'dame hums.

You feel light as a feather. You love your friends - your family - more than you can say.

[irisintheafterglow]

like we’re made of starlight (timeskip!iwa x you)

summary: on the night of your birthday, you accompany hajime to the olympic team's new year's celebration, meeting the players and receiving a small surprise.

wc: 1.78k

cw/tags: swearing, alcohol and drinking, established relationship, crack and fluff and atsumu being dumb, one (1) down bad iwaizumi hajime, implied fem!reader but they/them pronouns used

note: this is dedicated to the #1 iwa lover @shotorus <3 i hope you have a spectacular birthday and enjoy this little thing for you and your man :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated !

“You know, if I’d known they planned this whole shabang on your birthday, I would have asked them to reschedule.” He squints skeptically at the colorful strobe lights shining outside of the club, one of the most prestigious in the city and the venue for the Olympic team’s belated New Year celebration. You could only imagine how loud the inside of the club would be, especially since it already seemed overwhelming outside and you weren’t even in the building yet. “I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend, something a little…quieter.” 

“It’s okay, really,” you reassure him, setting a comforting hand on his thigh as he continues to bounce his leg in the driver’s seat. You run your thumb over the expensive fabric of his dress pants and he visibly relaxes, releasing a deep exhale and giving you an apologetic smile. The line for the valet was long and your boyfriend had politely declined your suggestion for him to hop out while you get the car situated. “I’m here for you and to meet the guys.” 

“That’s also something I’m a little anxious about,” he admits.

“How so?”

“They can get a little wild at these kinds of celebrations.”

“Well, we can bail whenever we want, right?” He nods, still a little unsure. “So, if the vibe is off or people start getting a little too wild, we leave and eat soup on the couch with a movie on.” The last comment about lounging around finally makes him smile and you lean over to press a light kiss on the side of his face, taking note of the way his ears become a little pinker even in the darkness of his car. A few minutes later, Hajime helps you step out of the car, tug on your coat and leads you to the entrance of the club, bypassing the extensive line with a tilt of his head to the bouncer. 

“This place was 100% Bokuto’s idea,” he mutters when you both step inside. “It’s like we’re at a frat party again.” A club employee escorts you up the stairs to a private, second floor balcony that overlooks the dance floor. “All the lights and music and drunk people is very reminiscent of that one during–”

“During junior year, second semester. The one I dragged you out of your dorm for because my roommates flaked out and I didn’t know anyone else to go with,” you grin, looking down at him over your shoulder as you climb the stairs. He’s quick to close any remaining space between you two once you reach the landing, snaking a protective arm around your shoulders while the employee gestures for you to join the rest of Hajime’s coworkers. “Except this time, everyone’s of age to drink.”

“In theory,” he murmurs. “I still think Hinata’s younger than he says he is.” You stifle a snort into your fist and catch him smirking before you’re bombarded by several suit-clad athletes with varying levels of alcohol intoxication. “Watch out for Atsumu. He spit-talks when he’s drunk.”

“Our beloved trainer has arrived!” On cue, the more chaotic Miya twin appears in front of you with one arm slung around his Jackal teammate, a buzzed-looking Bokuto, and followed closely by Hinata and Sakusa. “What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find my good cufflinks,” he shrugs, revealing the silver volleyballs hiding on the inside of his wrists, the ones you got him on his first anniversary of working as a trainer. “Thought they were appropriate for the occasion.” You smile, watching your boyfriend act as cool and casual as ever, even in the face of his very enthusiastic colleagues. “I, uh, have someone for you all to meet,” he says, glancing at you with a questioning glint in his eye. Are you ready? You nod, taking a deep breath as he introduces you as his partner. 

“Like, in business?” Atsumu asks with such a genuine expression that makes you giggle. Behind him, you can see Sakusa slap an exasperated palm against his forehead. “You have a secret side hustle?” You bite your lip to keep from laughing too hard and look up to find your boyfriend with a similar expression. 

“No, dude,” Bokuto says slowly. “He means like, romantically. Like, a life partner.” Atsumu’s eyes widened to the size of car tires. “A partner for life, you know?” 

“Holy shit, you’re married?” You catch Sakusa mouth oh my god under his breath before he walks away from his dumbfounded teammate. Hinata is quick to steer both of his friends to a table before they fall over and rejoins the conversation as Hajime introduces you to the more collected players of the group. 

You shake hands with the stoic skyscraper that is Ushijima as well as receive a warm hug from Komori. Both note how great it was to finally meet you in person after your boyfriend seemed to never stop talking about you, before the man in question hurriedly introduces you to another player. Suna and Sakusa are quietly polite but open up more once you ask them about how training is going for the next Olympic games. While you chat with them, Hajime pulls over Aran and Yaku, introducing you as his partner with poorly hidden pride. Once they’ve assimilated into your conversation, he disappears into the herds of players and staff again to no doubt drag out another coworker.

“Forgive him for coming and going so much,” Yaku says apologetically. “I think he’s been waiting to show you off for a long time, even if he won’t admit it.”

“He’s really excited for people to meet me, huh?”

“I’ve never seen him this hyper and I’ve been drunk at a karaoke bar with him,” a new voice says who introduces himself as Kuroo, a tall guy with spiky hair that you remember Hajime arguing with over the phone several times. “Our offices are right next to each other and I like to play pranks every so often,” he explains when you ask him about why your boyfriend yells at him so much.

“Technically, it’s his fault for being out of the office so often,” Suna reasons. “And I only say that because I’m one of the accomplices to the office pranks. We all are.”

“I bought the wrapping paper for the one on his car,” Aran adds. “Yaku pitched in for the Post It notes on April Fools day, but we don’t let Atsumu in on the pranks anymore ‘cause he talks too much.” Your mouth gapes in disbelief, unable to imagine the organized, well put-together machine that is your boyfriend getting pranked so easily. 

“It’s only because we love him as a trainer, though.” Yaku is backed up by nods of agreement from the rest of his team. “He really loves his job; I think the only thing he loves more than volleyball is–”

“You, obviously.” Hajime returns from fishing out people to introduce to you, easily finding his place by your side. “They tell you about how much they fuck up my office?” The perpetrators’ voices overlap each other in protest, arguing that he’s the one who keeps leaving his door unlocked. “Yeah, yeah. Just you wait until I get this one in on pranks against you guys.” He tilts his head towards you and is met with friendly taunts of competition, saying that you’re too nice to prank them or that they’d never fall for any of his pranks. His head dips to whisper in your ear while the team is preoccupied with debating what song to request from the DJ to create one big Olympic flashmob. “Mind if I steal you away, real quick?”

“Of course. But be fast; you need to be back in time for the big dance number,” you tease and he rolls his eyes with an amused smile, lacing his fingers in yours and pulling you down a back hallway of the club. The black walls reflect the moody shades of pink, orange, and blue shining from the lights above and you find that the music isn’t as loud in the little corner he finds for you two. When you’re ready, he pulls out a small box tied with a ribbon from his pocket.

“Wanted to give you this on your actual birthday but didn’t want Atsumu’s big mouth to ruin it out there,” he says and you chuckle, carefully taking the box from his fingers and unwrapping the bow. You pull off the lid and find a delicately silver chain threaded through a pendant indented to resemble a volleyball; flipping it over and admiring it in the light, you discover a stamped “H” on the back that only appears when the light hits it just right. 

“Hajime, this is beautiful,” you breathe. 

“You like it?”

“I love it.” You remove the necklace from the box, but before you can fasten it around your neck, he stops you. 

“May I?”

“You are a hopeless romantic,” you grin. 

“Only for you.” His fingers brushing your neck send goosebumps over your skin and he carefully secures the chain at the back. 

“How do I look?” You turn to face him and see his pupils blown wide open, licking his lips and blinking to maintain his restraint. 

“Like you’re mine,” he rasps and he closes the remaining distance between your bodies, letting your back hit the wall and tilting your chin up with two fingers to kiss you. Your fingers comb through his hair and he groans into your mouth when you tug on it experimentally. His hands firmly grip your waist while he kisses you infuriatingly slowly, like he was savoring this private moment without the prying eyes of his teammates. He pulls away to breathe but doesn’t go far, nudging his nose against yours. “The guys didn’t say anything dumb to you, did they?”

“No, but they did let me know how much you talk about me,” you whisper and he rolls his eyes again, your eyelashes brushing his face when he leans in close again. “And how much your dumbass gets pranked.” 

“In my defense–” You cut him off with an uncontrollable fit of laughter, one that he joins into with a tired shake of his head. “You know what? I don’t have a defense. Happy birthday, my love.” He presses a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead. “Every day I think about what I did to deserve someone like you.”

“You existed and I found you,” you say simply. “That’s just how it works and now you’re stuck with me and all my future birthdays.”

“You say that like I’m not ready to grow old with you in any lifetime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[maeijie]

pretty please. PROLOGUE

— dad!gojo satoru x fem!reader

cw. implied one night stand (if you squint) but no explicit detail, reader is not present

note. giving another go with writing, and first time writing for the chosen man himself. not proofread

word count. 1.4k

series masterlist | next

His pure white locks of snow, blue hues like a diamond under the sun, anatomy sculpted like marble statues of mythologies. With just a snap of his fingers, he can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it: A woman's name, unreleased line clothings of his favorite brand, rare pairs and pairs of jewelries, and any private island can be his to take.

Being on a very high position in society as an actor, with millions of loving fans from in and out of Japan, has immensely inflated his ego that it has reached heights heigher than any penthouse he could purchase.

He loves the attention. He loves that he could pull one or more arm from the many women that clings to him on to his bed and they'd say thank you. He loves that on every party he attends or host, he'll always be the life of the night.

When he enters the room, he loves that everyone howls and cheers.

He is the all and mighty Gojo Satoru.

-

Grogginess was what first filled all of Satoru's senses when he awoke on his expensive king sized bed.

Turning his head away from the glare of the sun sipping through his curtains, a groan rumbles from his throat, a low octave of tone that women go crazy for. He scratches his bare chest before finally blinking his eyelids open, welcoming the soft morning hues throughout his bedroom.

He contemplates to stay in bed before inevitably standing up. Satoru darts his eyes around his room whilst looking for his shirt that he discarded last night.

As he descended the stairs, he pulled the piece of clothing over his head when he saw his maid, a middle-aged woman, was ready to leave for the day. Heading towards the door with her bag in hand.

"Keiko. Going home?"

The said woman turns in small shock before smiling kindly at her boss. "Oh, Mr. Gojo. I didn't know you were already awake. But yes, I've done your laundry and some cleaning. Apologies if I disturbed you because of the vacuum."

Satoru hums, stepping off the last bit of stairs. "Nope, you didn't." he scratches his head, looking around.

"Anyways, have you seen..?"

Keiko seems to squint before coming to a realization. "You mean Ms. Hanna?"

"Yeah, her." He scratches his neck, not showing much interest as he heads to the kitchen. "I sent her home earlier when she woke up, as you normally instruct me to do." Keiko replies, watching as he tastes the breakfast she prepared, then seeing him nod in acknowledgment to her cooking and statement.

"Good. You can go now. Oh, and you don't need to come back here tonight." The woman simply bowed with a smile, uttering a quiet 'thank you' before heading out.

Finally he was really alone, stretching his limbs as he heard the cracks of his joints in pure satisfaction.

This was how his days normally went. Whenever his schedule was clear of agendas, he's able to party and mingle at night, then do what he liked the next day. Recently, he just finished filming an action movie that lasted almost two years of production and was set to release next year. And since promotion doesn't start until then, he had all the free time in the world as of this moment. He's particularly not active in social media, but he has his own team that does the advertising of his soon-to-be released film for him.

He looks around his lavish home. It was a penthouse at one of the top floors of the establishment. Stationed at Japan's richest district, overlooking the busy city and with the most perfect view of the famous red structure, Tokyo Tower.

This is Gojo Satoru's life. Content and satisfied. Tough choices and sacrifices were made to be where he's at, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to meditate the past and regret. He is where he is now, after all.

A ding resonates from his phone, indicating that someone has texted him. Opening his messages, he sees his trusted manager, that has been with him since the very beginning of his career, has sent him a text.

Mr. Yamada: How was the party last night? Anyways, any plans for your 8th anniversary? It's pretty soon.

8 years ago, was the moment fame was introduced to Satoru. Almost 8 years ago was when his life completely flipped and ascended into great glory. It was a golden day for Satoru, and he has made it that he would celebrate this every single year.

Satoru respects Mr. Yamada, and he rarely does to anyone. He has led Satoru towards his first stepping stone in his journey, and now he's here living the glamour dream with Mr. Yamada still following him with support. In a way, Satoru feels indebted to him. He has pushed Satoru into choosing the right decisions when he himself couldn't.

His career would be cripple and dust without this man.

Despite that, Satoru places down his device, deciding to send a response later as he felt that it was still to early and because he was hungry.

And just as he was about to take a bite of his meal, his doorbell went off. He raised a brow, his jaw slacked and chop sticks halfway toward his mouth. Satoru let it settle, waiting to see if the person out his door would activate the sound again.

When they didn't, he proceeded with his food, chewing away.

But he drops his utensil when his phone suddenly let out a sound, alerting him that someone was at his door. He clicks his tongue, irritated as he pressed the notification to check his intercom. 'People, I swear.'

He expected it to be a fan, or more like a stalker, that discovered his address. He was ready to turn on the mic of his phone that connected to the devices that was out his front door, call off the person to go away when he only saw a blob of hair below the screen.

"What the.." Satoru furrowed his brows at the scene, wondering if the person was kneeling or something. However his thought was dismissed when a tiny face of a little girl pops up, seemingly on her tippy toes as she clicks the button that turns on the mic.

And just as she did that, a young, high-pitched greeting resonates from the speaker of his device. "Helloooo!!"

Now this was odd. He scrunches his nose in confusion. A random child was just outside his property. Satoru was then further confused when the child says something about if her Father was here.

"Excuse me? Father? Me?" he utters in disbelief. Placing his phone down, he decided to ignore her, shaking his head in dismissal as he thought that the address was most likely mistaken. Satoru chuckles at the thought of him having a child, continuing with his meal. "Kids are crazy these days." he says with a playful grin, shaking his head.

But then the little girl added something. With her high pitched voice, she said:

"Uhm, Mr. Gojo!!! It's your daughter!!!"

Now that's just insane. Satoru chokes on his food, violently coughing as he ran to his fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. Downing the liquid to ease his throat, he exhales loudly before his eyes went full-blown wide.

"My daughter??" Not only did she say that, she also knew his name.

Something was up. It was too unbelievable for Satoru. No kid should just walts to some stranger's door and claim to be their child.

He speed walked towards his front door to confront the child to say that she was mistaken and that she needs to check his neighbors that was two floors downstairs. "You gotta be kidding me."

Turning the lock before he pushed the door open, he looks down to see the little girl, maybe 3 feet in height, in her arms was a little bunny plush, her eyes eerily too similar to his. But what caught his attention more are the tiny suitcase and bag that was accompanied with her.

Gojo Satoru, with just a snap of his fingers, can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it. He can get anything, and has everything. Satoru is well aware of that, which is why his ego was higher than any penthouse he could buy. So imagine his surprise when he does in fact have everything,

Including a child.

"Hi, mister. I'm Saori."

[suplicyy]

[Prompt Series pt.3]

You sharing a dessert with Goshiki

Summary — Goshiki and you are on a date and you share your dessert with him.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

It had only been a short time since you entered into a relationship with Shiratorizawa's future ace, Goshiki, and since then, everything has been amazing for you two. And today would be an amazing time too, since you were going on a date!

And this would definitely be a perfect day, everything would definitely work out, right?

...Right?

That thought was completely burned by the flames of hell when Goshiki reached into his pocket and couldn't find his wallet. At that moment the poor boy felt his soul leaving his body.

And he couldn't even go back to his house and get it back, he was already too far from his house for that.

He was already waiting for you at the meeting point you agreed on, and you hadn't arrived yet. The only thing he was thinking at the moment was: How would he explain the situation to you?

Since the beginning of your relationship, Goshiki has always liked to spoil you, give you your favorite snacks, take you for a walk somewhere you like, and even buy you gifts, even though they weren't those fancy and expensive gifts, you always loved the affection that he has to remember the things you like.

And since he is now without his money, how could he make you happy!?

His desperate thoughts stopped the moment he felt a small poke on his shoulder.

"Tsu, are you okay? I was calling you but you didn't listen..."

The cute nickname you gave him a while ago made his heart race, but it still wasn't enough to get him out of the despair he was feeling about the whole situation.

"N-No- I mean yes!! Everything is fine! Heh..." he says nervously. You thought he was just shy because of the date, since he always has the same reaction when he sees you, so you didn't mind too much and held his hand, guiding him to your destination.

"I saw that a really cute coffee shop opened here recently! What do you think about going there?" you say in an excited tone. "Well... O-Of course! Let's go!!"

Goshiki cursed himself internally, for not having the courage to tell you about the situation. He was generally known for being a very ambitious and courageous boy, after all he even told his team's great Ace to his face that one day he would surpass him. But whenever it came to you, it seemed like his world destabilized, he really likes you and wants to do everything he can to impress you and get what you deserve, so if something he does for you goes wrong, he can get really upset with himself.

He only realized he arrived at the coffee shop when he heard the door bell being rung as you entered the cozy space. The fragrance of coffee beans being ground and sweet breads coming out of the oven reached his nostrils, which made him sad, knowing that he couldn't buy what you wanted at that moment.

"Didn't I tell you it was super cute?? I never make mistakes in my recommendations, right?" You say with a smile on your face, which soon disappears when you feel a squeeze on your hand. "I-I'm sorry [name]..." He looks at the ground with an sad expression, in a way of not making eye contact with you.

"Goshiki what happened?" You reach out with both of your hands to cup them on either side of his face, lifting him up so you can see him better. "You know you can always tell me everything, don't you? I won't be mad at you." Goshiki stops for a moment, but then he lets out a sigh and finally tells you what's bothering him. "It's just... I forgot my wallet..."

There was silence after that. At that time he was convinced that you would fight with him, or even worse, leave him. But all of that went away when he heard your little laugh, that laugh that always made his day better.

"Tsu, is that what you were worried about? You know I have money too, right?" "B-But... then I won't be able to make you happy...!" You gave him a sweet smile, and then planted a soft kiss on his lips, an action that made him blush furiously in the same second.

"You fool, just having you here with me makes me happy! Don't worry about it anymore, okay?" you hold his hand again and guide him to the dessert display, pointing to a delicious slice of cake. "How about this one? I think I only have enough money for one piece... but it should be enough for a drink too!" Before he can protest, you walk straight to the register, heading to place your order.

After you pay, you sit at a table near the window, with a slice of cake and a mocha.

"Y-You didn't have to do that..." Goshiki says in a worried tone. "Well... it's just that you always buy things for me, so I want to spoil you too!" You take a piece of cake with your spoon and bring it to his mouth. "Whether with sweets or other things you like, I want to make you happy, like you do to me every day!"

At that moment, the boy felt his heart warm with your gesture of love for him.

"I-I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!" he shouts excitedly, opening his mouth to eat the piece of cake you offered him. Some people glared at him for shouting in a space that was supposed to be relaxing, but you didn't care at all.

On this pleasant afternoon, you two shared a dessert that you would definitely eat again, but the dessert wasn't as sweet as Goshiki's love for you.

A/N — HELLO FRIENDS!! This weekend I was super busy doing school work that I left at short notice, so it took a while for this one to come out.😭😭

And this week will probably be a bit hectic for me, as my exams start next week, so don't worry if I don't post anything here!

Prompt used for this post — Person A and Person B sharing ice cream/cake/a dessert.

[Prompt Series Masterlist]

[ghostofskywalker]

After The Mission

Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 20 of 31

Words: 1,041

Summary: You didn't know how much longer you could deal with your growing attraction to Bucky Barnes, and it certainly doesn't help that the two of you had been assigned a mission that included black tie attire.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

For once, everything seemed to go to plan. The plans were successful, the bad guy was caught, and no one else could do you any harm. There was just one little problem, and that was the rising tension between you and your mission partner.

You knew Bucky Barnes was handsome, most people did at this point. But you had also only seem him in tactical gear and the casual clothes he wore around the compound, so to walk into the living room and see him in a full suit was truly something else. You would like to think that you saw his breath hitch slightly when he first laid eyes on you (and the very expensive designer dress you were wearing), but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself.

This was a rare assignment, mainly because you didn’t actually have to do any fighting. Your entire job was to keep an eye on one specific patron at this fancy restaurant, and alert the rest of the team when he started to move, and that’s what you did. It almost felt like you were actually just out for a nice dinner with Bucky, and you were certainly not complaining.

But now, as you were setting foot back in the compound, something felt different between you. Before tonight you might have suggested that you meet back in the living room and have a pajama and ice cream movie marathon, but right now that seemed completely impossible. Not because you had argued or anything of that nature, but because things just felt different between you and him after this dinner.

Just as you decided that it was probably time to take this dress off and get ready for bed, you heard a knock at your door. You immediately walked over and opened it, thinking it was probably Natasha on the other side, stopping by to let you know how the rest of the team did when they apprehended the target and if there was anything else that needed to be done in the coming days.

You certainly weren’t expecting Bucky to be standing on the other side. “Hey,” he said. “I just wanted to check in with you.” He had also not yet shed his fancy evening attire, and the fact that his tie was currently undone around his neck was only making him more attractive. Seriously, why did he have to be so attractive? Was he trying to kill you?

“Oh,” was your response, not quite sure what to make of the interaction at this point. “Did Steve send something out to the team that I missed?”

“Not in an official sense,” he said, and your expression changed to one of confusion. “You seemed like something was bothering you on the way home, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Thank you for checking on me,” you said. “I don’t think anything was wrong, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” That wasn’t the whole truth and you knew it, but the reality was that you were acting differing because of the ridiculously crazy thoughts running through your head at that moment, all of which involved you and Bucky in much less clothing and several rather compromising positions.

“Are you sure?” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you,” you said, a small smile crossing your face. “That is absolutely not the reason I was acting like that on the way home.”

You had really hoped that he would just let the conversation go after that and allow you to get ready for bed (and pine for him in peace), but of course that was not what happened. “So there is something,” he said, closing the door behind him as he stepped further into your room. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to think of an excuse to get out of this conversation. “Don’t worry.”

“But I am worried,” was his response, and it was accompanied by a look that almost made your heart melt right then and there. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because it’s about you,” you said, and immediately regretted it.

“What? I thought you just-”

Since you would rather he be disgusted by your attraction to him than angry at himself for doing something wrong (which he absolutely hadn’t done), you decided to just tell him the truth. “Because I like you,” you said softly. “And I know that it’s probably a stupid little crush and I’ll get over it, but I saw you in that suit tonight and I’m pretty sure my brain forgot how thoughts work.” You watched as your words sank in, waiting for the inevitable rejection that would break your heart for a few weeks before you would be able to recover.

But much to your surprise, that rejection never came.

Instead, Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist, and he gently pulled you closer to him. Your lips met immediately, and it didn’t really matter who kissed who, because both of you were pouring so much passion into the kiss that you genuinely wondered if you would faint when you pulled apart.

Thankfully, your legs continued to work (even if they did wobble a little), and unfortunately you did have to break for air. “I really hope that it isn’t a little crush,” he said, his eyes searching yours with an expression of pure happiness. “Because seeing you walk out in that dress made me feel pretty much the same way.”

“Really?” This had to be some kind of dream, it was simply too good to be true.

“Really.” He leaned in and placed another soft kiss on your lips. “And I really don’t want this night to end.”

Your breath hitched. “Me neither,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

His lips began to travel down to your neck, and you had to fight hard not to make any embarrassing noises. You could hear the sound of someone’s phone ringing beyond your lovesick haze, and you knew that he had probably heard it too, but neither of you were going to pay attention to it.

Right now, you were just enjoying this perfect moment. 

- the end -

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[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

what do you think of the rumors about Aemond's possible betrayal of Aegon in Ep4?

Oh do I have a lot to say about this one! So here's the thing. A possible Rook's Rest betrayal situation has been a long running theory among F&B readers even before the show. In the book, Vhagar slams into Sunfyre and Meleys from above while the two are locked together fighting, and they all crash to the ground. It's unclear whether Aemond slammed them both because Vhagar was too big to maneuver in a precise way, or if he was intentionally trying to harm his brother. It's ambiguous, but when Aegon is badly injured, Aemond becomes prince regent and declares the crown looks better on him than it ever did on his brother. In Aemond's favor, he did not declare himself king, but it's also the case that in the book, Aegon had a second son, so Aemond wasn't his heir either. Declaring himself king would have been a direct usurpation of Maelor even if Aegon himself died. We also know that at the end of the Dance Aegon wanted statues made of both his brothers, Aemond and Daeron, so Aegon himself likely did not believe Aemond was responsible for his injuries. But it is ambiguous, and book!Aemond does turn out to be not very smart and not much of a team player, so in and of itself, I don't actually mind the betrayal theory so much. But I would prefer it remain a theory, that is, keep it ambiguous, but even if it is an outright betrayal, it's the execution and motivation which concern me.

In the show, Aemond has a very clear second son syndrome. Whether it's true or not, he certainly thinks he's smarter, better, more dutiful, and of course on top of all that, he has the largest dragon. Show!Aegon, on the other hand, is insecure and struggling with depression, alcoholism, and a big case of imposter syndrome. He's impulsive and reactive, wasn't properly prepared to be king, didn't particularly want to be king, but now that he is king, he's desperate not to fail. In the events leading up to the war, Aemond kills Luke in a moment that seems more rash than calculated, and this ultimately leads to Aegon's small son being decapitated by Blood and Cheese in revenge, throwing him deep into grief and rage. On top of that, Aegon is feeling undermined by his council, including Aemond, and Larys is planting the seeds of mistrust between Aegon and his brother. It's absolutely reasonable for there to be some resentment between the two and some unresolved issues that might manifest on the battlefield. Would these issues lead to an actual attempted murder? Eh, I tend to think that, in the spirit of leaving it ambiguous, Aemond might have the passing thought that he could totally "accidentally" allow Aegon to come to harm. He might even hesitate just long enough that Meleys is able to seriously wound Aegon or Sunfyre before he joins in, causing him to feel a great deal of guilt. This is my preferred scenario.

The problem I have is with how the show is framing it so far. I've never been a fan of the way the bullying storyline seemed to humanize Aemond at Aegon's expense, but it now appears as if it's being used as a motivation or justification for Aemond betraying Aegon at Rook's Rest, as well as his general shift to a darker character, which I find cliched and disappointing. At this point Aemond is a grown man by all Westerosi standards, and despite their issues, we've seem Aegon display loyalty towards Aemond more than we've seen him "bully" him. They're siblings, they're going to fight and bicker and tease, but we've seen nothing from Aegon so far that would justify murder. Maybe if your brother is going through the worst thing a person can possibly experience, losing his son in a murder that, while not your fault, happened as a retribution for your actions, perhaps you could grant him some grace, even if he makes some obnoxious comments in a brothel. I've seen so many takes which basically amount to "Aegon had it coming" as if we haven't seen Aegon absolutely distraught over the death of his child, receiving no emotional support from his family, least of all Aemond himself, and spiraling back into alcoholism and reckless behavior. Now is really not the time to get pissy about teasing. It's not about you, Aemond. A child is dead.

And in fact, we've seen Aegon be supportive of Aemond on screen in ways that we generally haven't seen Aemond support Aegon. Aegon speaks up on Aemond's behalf, inviting him into the council when Alicent wants to shut him out, and we've seen him support Aemond's battle plans, even though we know Cole and Aemond have been planning behind Aegon's back. In S1 we've seen Aegon have Aemond's back at dinner with Rhaenyra's family, and going even further back, we've seen Aegon allow Aemond to throw him under the bus about the bastard comments, taking the fall even though he was not the culprit. There is certainly jealousy and rivalry there from both sides, but as much as Aegon is an ass, it is clear he loves his brother.

Also, I think some fans, perhaps because the well was poisoned against Aegon in S1 in ways that his character has struggled to recover from, tend to read everything Aegon does uncharitably and ignore some of Aemond's more questionable behavior, granting him grace that they do not grant others. I rarely see critical analysis about Aemond the way I do about Aegon, so I'm going to be frank here for a moment. Aemond is only the "good" brother to Aegon's "bad" brother because we haven't seen him at his worst yet, but the potential is there for him to be so much worse than Aegon could ever be. Show!Aemond is thin skinned, self-centered, and a bit of a "can dish it out but can't take it" type. Aemond's assholery is more subtle (for example, Aemond's patronizing little "that's a brave thought" to Aegon in council), whereas Aegon's is loud and obnoxious, but Aemond knows how to make his insults pointed and hurtful ("Strong boys" toast, you will die screaming in flames like your father). And look no further than his reaction to Blood and Cheese to see his egotism in action. In this moment when he's supposed to be showing some level of vulnerability with the madame, he's talking about how honored he is that sempai Daemon noticed him. Mind you, this notice is what resulted in the death of his four year old nephew. His "remorse" over killing Lucerys amounts to "I do regret that business with Luke," while immediately following up with his justification, citing how they used to tease him for not having a dragon. Sincere remorse involves examining your own actions without immediately justifying them or centering yourself, and in that moment I felt no remorse from Aemond, or even sympathy for what his killing of Luke might have unleashed upon the family. Aemond hasn't even mentioned Helaena once post-B&C, and you'd think that even if he doesn't feel sorry for Aegon, surely he'd show some sympathy for his innocent sister? And yet, nothing.

So while I can't say it would be necessarily out of character for the Aemond they've been giving us in S2, I don't really like this take on Aemond at all, and I just don't find this supposed grudge against Aegon a particularly compelling justification for attempted murder. While the bullying storyline humanized Aemond in S1 as a child, keeping it going now, as a motive for harming his brother and his brother's dragon, which, lets be clear, would absolutely fuck over his entire faction, is ridiculous and unnecessary, and really kind of saps any goodwill I might have had for Aemond. I don't have any sympathy for someone who was rather mildly teased and decides his brother deserves to die for it, and it makes me feel incredibly sad for Aegon who is just getting dumped on by his entire family to the point where it's honestly kind of hard to watch. There is plenty of drama inherent in the situation already as-is. If this happened because of tensions over Storm's End and Blood and Cheese, it would still be stupid for Aemond to do, but Aemond has never been as smart as he thinks, and it would frame the betrayal in the context of the ways Aegon and Aemond have hurt each other. However, if it is framed as Aegon's comeuppance for being an asshole, Aemond's Joker moment where he goes fully dark in some sort of bullying revenge plot that he decides to enact in the middle of a war? Honestly, forget building gigantic gold covered statues, I'd be burning effigies.

[buckyalpine]

Peter’s Hamster

Crack fic alert: Imagine Bucky with a pet he never wanted. He’s around the compound more cause he’s taking a break from missions for a while. In the meantime, Peter brought a hamster from the pet store and Tony is not having any of it.

“No”

“C’mon Mr. Stark, you won’t even notice him-

“I can smell him from the lab”

“I’ll invent something to stop the smell”

“Aren’t pets expensive”

“Aren’t you a billionaire?”

“Shut up Romanoff”

“He was like 2 bucks!”

Peter manages to squirrel his way into keeping his newest friend but there’s still the matter of who would care for him when everyone else as away on missions. Anyway, Bucky made it clear he would have no part in hamster sitting. Not one bit. If everyone was away then the hamster would have to fend for himself.

Like today. It had already been a few days since the collective team had left leaving Bucky in perfect solitude with his worn copy of the hobbit and his secret guilty pleasure; peanut butter cups. No one would ever EVER see the former winter soldiers suck off the chocolate left on the wrapper, licking his lips like a cat after every bit between flipping pages.

It was perfect.

Except.

Bucky could hear the sound of the squeaky wheel of the hamster going at full speed, the high pitched squeals piercing through the air.

“For fucks sake, can’t you keep it down” he grumbled before pausing and closing his eyes. “…I’m talking to a hamster”

….

“who can’t hear me”

Eventually the rustling and scurrying gets to him so he reluctantly goes over to Peters room to see what the 3 gram rodent is up to. He notices the pellet bowl is empty and water has almost run dry, though the little fur ball didn’t seem to care just yet, more concerned about cleaning and pawing at his face.

“If you had more than half a brain cell you would’ve escaped and fed yourself” Bucky scoffed, ready to turn on his heel but the tiny beady eyes that look at him make him stop.

“Pathetic” he mumbled before finding the bag of food under a pile of Peter’s clothes “no more wonder he bought a hamster, he lives like one”

The hamster nudges against him when he refills his bowl, using it as an opportunity to escape by climbing up his arm and sitting on his shoulder.

“Seriously”

The small light brown puffball stayed there while Bucky scoffed, plucking him off and plopping him back in, narrowing his eyes at it.

“This was a one time thing. Figure it out”

Is what he said and fully intended on standing by but the squeaky wheels and rustling get to him. At one point, he swears it’s on purpose as the hamsters way of getting his attention for a food refill.

So he takes matters into his own hands

“If you won’t feed yourself, I’ll teach you”

So the late night sessions begin. Rigorous circuits for the thing that was smaller than his palm, learning how to scale the cake, click the lock open and nibble its way into the pellets. 

“I’m training a hamster” 

Bucky caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a few stray pieces of woodchips dusting his clothes while the hamster (who he now called PB....based on an interesting choice...) completed another around in less than 0 seconds. 

“I’m training a fucking hamster” 

“Good Job PB” Bucky petted his head with one finger, stopping when he was about to comment on his ability to climb the cage, 

“And still talking to it” 

Imagine the absolute confusion the team feels when they get back to find random clear tubes running along the walls, each connecting to a different room, most tubes leading to the snack cupboards and counter tops. 

The walk into the living room and no one breathes a word, too entranced by the sight of a very focused Bucky and Peter’s hamster, perched on the super soldier. He sits on Bucky's shoulder, remnants of sunflower seeds left over on the coffee table while Bucky nibbles on a peanut butter cup. 

“What the fuck” 

Bucky turned around to find everyone staring at him with a variety of expressions from shock to amusement to utter confusion. At this point, Bucky couldn’t not care less, shrugging before holding up a seed to his shoulder so PB could grab it in his tiny hands.

“Which episode now, PB”  “Who the fuck is PB” 

Bucky pointed to the furball while scrolling through Netflix, avoiding any animal documentaries, not wanting to traumatize his new tiny friend. 

“You named him PB?”

“Yup”

“Based off of what” Tony cocked and eyebrow while Bucky snorted, feeding him another sunflower seed. 

“We’ll, I originally called him Parker’s balls”

Imagine after this Bucky has PB trained to wreck havoc and steal things he likes from just about anywhere. Peter gets absolute shit from Tony because 1 Bucky was enough chaos and now its Bucky plus this tiny demon. 

[sl-ut]

sweet cliches

THE RELATIONSHIP II

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!preppy!reader

description: more relationship hcs

warnings: small mentions of smut, alcohol, and drugs

date posted: 18/04/23

series masterlist

abby is clingy af

like she's under the impression that everything can be a two person job if she puts her mind to it

always got a hand on y/n in some way. ik i've said before that she's not a big pda person but she definitely loves physical touch so there's always some kind of contact going on.

y/n is a certified passenger princess

abby doesn't mind letting y/n drive every once in a while, but i hc that abby genuinely really likes driving (i love driving so i'm just projecting here)

she likes letting y/n scroll through spotify on her phone and picking out the best songs for that moment, one hand tucked against her thigh, and allowing her to pop snacks into her mouth for her while she drove

is also super strict when she's driving

like got really mad that one time y/n tried to initiate some spicy time while she was driving, or refusing to even pull out of her parking spot until y/n in buckled

abby is a bookworm

she definitely doesn't seem the type at first, but she likes to make sure that she's reading a little bit everyday, whether it's a novel, a textbook, or a news article

but she's a big fan of reading real-life stories

y/n gifts her a kindle for christmas one year and she literally uses it everyday

i've mentioned before that abby loves taking care of y/n, but don't let that fool you into thinking that she doesn't like being spoiled from time to time.

just because she's a big beefy woman doesn't mean she doesn't wanna be treated like a delicate little creature every once in a while

y/n quickly figures out that she loves doing self care with her

she had just brought her stuff along on movie night once, figuring that she was comfortable enough to put on the lumpy green mask in front of her a month into the relationship

abby was a little caught off guard when y/n offered her some, but she enjoyed it more than she wanted to admit.

she likes when y/n gives her massages after tough practices, especially when she uses the special lotion that smells so freaking good and was definitely more expensive than it was really worth

my girl loves when y/n joins her at the gym. i mentioned before that she would encourage her to go every once an a while, but she also likes when she just comes along for company.

she usually goes with manny, who was a little confused the first time that y/n showed up just to watch, but quickly started to tease her when he recognized the glint in her eyes when she watched abby's muscled ripple under the ridiculously heavy weights

i've mentioned before that abby doesn't get drunk often, but when she does, it's a wild ride

y/n only witnessed abby drunk drunk once while they were in college, which was after her team won the championship game

by the time y/n showed up to the after party with some of her friends, abby was already eight drinks deep and absolutely smashed.

she was on the look out for her girlfriend, and when she saw her, she resembled a golden retriever at the return of their owner

she immediately curled herself around her. y/n was pressed to her chest, on her lap, or curled under her bulging bicep at all times, and abby was pressing soft kisses along her exposed skin the whole time

y/n is the dd that night, and is forced to deal with abby as she all but mauled y/n the moment that they were back in her apartment

she managed to get her into the bedroom, but the moment that abby's head hit the pillow, she was out

when it comes to her friends, she can understand that y/n may not be their biggest fans

owen, especially. ofc she already knew nora and mel, and who didn't like manny?? but they were all a very acquired taste, she could understand that maybe they weren't always the most welcoming to her in the beginning

if owen ever made y/n uncomfortable, she would give him a private talking to; she knew y/n would be embarrassed if she knew that abby felt the need to take care of the issue on her own

she likes doing very domestic things together

she needs shampoo? she's sending an omw text. y/n wants fast food close to midnight? abby's doordashing. one of them has a haircut? the other is there for moral support.

she comes from money, and while she's grateful for being privileged, she also has a hard time understanding what it might have been like for y/n to have grown up in lower-income household

she tries not to be too flashy with her money. she likes to spoil her girl from time but sometimes she has a hard time knowing when being generous turns into feeling more condescending

she understand that y/n might want to be more financially independent and will try to lay off, but she'll always still offer to help her when she knows that money is a little tighter than usual

her dad loves y/n. he was worried for abby for a bit after she began college because she was a generally very intense person, and he feared that she would burn herself out very quickly. he was delighted to see how much more relaxed abby is now that they're together; not to say that she's still not intense, but she is definitely more balanced in how she uses her freetime

she takes y/n on a group trip to hawaii to celebrate their graduation. some of her friends may not have been super glad to see her come along, but their so's had all been invited so abby couldn't care less

plus, she got to see y/n in a bathing suit everyday, so any complaints were well worth it

she's an absolute sucker when it comes to y/n being angry with her

the biggest upset that they had to deal with was one of those few times that abby indulged herself in an extra few drinks and y/n caught her spilling some intimate details about them to her friends; much more explicit than any normal girl-talk, not to mention the fact that she was revealing this all to her bros, not even just mel and nora

she had to suck up to her for a week just to get her to spend the night with her again, but abby quickly learned her lesson

i don't want it to seem like abby is being controlled by y/n, or like y/n wears the pants in the relationship, because that's a stupid idea that does not apply to this relationship. THERE ARE NO PANTS! if anything, it's a pair of socks where they each wear one, it's simply the fact that abby is absolutely whipped for her girl and doesn't want her to be angry with her

y/n is equally as whipped though, always cheering her through difficult times and doing little things to make her life easier. they were both a little rough around the edges, but that's what made them understand and be there for each other <3

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them. 

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious. 

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows. 

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions. 

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing. 

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.” 

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.” 

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move. 

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.” 

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.” 

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.” 

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed. 

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.” 

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly. 

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.” 

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.” 

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.” 

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you. 

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?” 

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.” 

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth. 

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?” 

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.” 

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed. 

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.” 

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.” 

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers. 

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself. 

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?” 

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?” 

“Very.” 

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff. 

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there. 

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?” 

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze. 

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.” 

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly. 

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.” 

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?” 

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.” 

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.” 

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him. 

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.” 

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered. 

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily. 

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.” 

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.” 

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.” 

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed. 

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal. 

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience. 

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you. 

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation. 

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?” 

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.” 

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.” 

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.” 

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!” 

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.  

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment. 

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back. 

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him. 

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice. 

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.” 

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back. 

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded. 

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?” 

You shook your head. 

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?” 

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”  

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?” 

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal. 

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.” 

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.” 

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat. 

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor. 

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else. 

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process. 

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.” 

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks. 

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly. 

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function. 

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone. 

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last. 

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked. 

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you. 

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you. 

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls. 

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you. 

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical. 

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time. 

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.” 

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.” 

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you. 

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit. 

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around. 

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak. 

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it. 

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier. 

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.” 

“Flatterer,” you accused gently. 

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.” 

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.” 

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?” 

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.” 

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people. 

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…” 

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.” 

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic. 

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.” 

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?” 

“Yes.” 

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.” 

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well. 

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.” 

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest. 

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…” 

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

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Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!