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angelfic · 8 months

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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

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hoshigray · 4 months

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𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 [& 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑬] 𝐔𝐏!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: It's bad enough you got a crush on your gym instructor, Toji; however, it gets worse when things become too close and personal for this relationship...But who says you shouldn't get a little praise for your hard work?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: personal trainer! Toji x fem! reader - explicit contents; minors DNI - unrequited/crushing » mutual pining - sex in a public space (gym locker room + showers) - shower sex - thigh riding - oral (m! + f! receiving) - ball massaging - face + throat-fucking - breast fondling + nipple play - against a wall + upstanding citizen + standing 69 positions - praise - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, doll, dollface, good girl, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside tho) - overstimulation - cameos: Haibara and Ino (gym manager and employee) - the reader accidentally walks into the men's locker room (they're a bit dumb, forgive them, lol) - mention of sweat spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k (i'm about to lose my mind, bro.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: mannnnnn, the way this draft has been collecting dust, it was supposed to be released on Dec!! ofc my first fic back would be for toji lmao. anyways, i hope you enjoy, and tysm for 4.7k y'all are so sweet ;;w;; and thank yeww @ramonathinks for beta-reading, mwah mwah

“That one was weak; do another three.”

“Gahh– …You’re such an asshole, Fushiguro.”

“Heh, like that’s anythin’ new. C’mon, let’s go!”

We’re counting down to the last weeks of the year, and so many people have already promised affirmations for themselves in the upcoming year. In terms of this year, you can’t say much. You’ve done your work, hung out with the same people since last year, and probably learned to spoil yourself more. Maybe another thing you can be proud of is that you crossed some TV series off your “get-to-watch” list, so go you!

Although, besides those minimal things, there is one change in your life that you’ve committed yourself to. One thing that you didn’t expect to be so in tune with throughout the past half of the year. It started as a forced challenge because your friend Miwa needed someone to motivate her to maintain her gym membership. What was once something you’d thought a one-time thing gradually became something you enjoy — something you felt proud doing!

Not only has your knowledge of your body and how to keep it in good shape improved over half a year, but your love for the community has grown more and more. The gym you go to feels like a second home, with many people you’ve gotten to know and befriend along your journey. Even the manager, Haibara Yu, practically treats you like a sibling after seeing you every other day. The same goes for the front desk associate, Ino, who is the goofiest goofball you’ve ever met (not to mention the best drinking buddy).

But – if you really had to pick – there is one person who has made this experience more enjoyable and worthwhile. “Hahhh!! There, I did them! Aren’t you supposed to be my spotter, not a shit-talker?”

“I’m doin’ my job, aren’t I?” Toji Fushiguro, your gym instructor for the past few months, has been a driving force in your physical journey. With his help, you’ve been disciplining yourself in and outside of the facility, maintaining a good diet, and keeping your body active in a balanced fashion. The gratitude you have for him supersedes all. But above all else, throughout the years, the two of you have gotten pretty close and know a good chunk about each other to call yourselves friends – at least, that’s what you’ve been doing. “Alright, that’s enough lifting for today; time for stretches.”

Aside from a friend, there is something else you refer to him as – something you’d rather die than admit out loud. Toji, your trainer, is your gym crush. Well, your crush in general.

Can you really blame yourself, though? Look at the man! When you first look at him, his physique alone is enough to keep you staring at him for hours and hours on end. Strong, bulky arms that look like they could pick up five treadmills in one sitting and with veins that decorate up to his forearm can effortlessly grab the attention of the normal eye. He’s wearing his black fitted tee, so tight that it was as if it was vacuum sealed to perfectly showcase the outline of his abdomen, ribs, and pectorals. And it doesn’t help from the back view either; you can’t count how many times you fell into a short trance from admiring his gorgeous back, from his trapezius to his waist. Every time the man flexes his biceps and triceps, all you can do is internally thank the gods for sculpting such a man to be in front of you. And those beautiful thighs and calves shaped from his black leggings and shorts? Damn.

But the thing about him that has you squeak more than a mouse are his eyes. Forest green orbs that can shift into a stern concentration whenever he’s working on a machine or when he’s observing your form and finds whatever needs correcting. Then there are times when they are mellow and soft when you’re speaking with him or when he’s deep in thought about something until you catch his attention. Then he’d throw a small smile at you — your biggest weakness. The scar on his lip being lifted to a curl never fails to put your stomach into knots.

He’s such an attractive man from the first moment you ever laid your eyes on him. You were bound to fall in love with him one way or another. It just sucks that it’s under such a professional relationship that you have to keep this little unrequited love to yourself.

Which is getting harder and harder every day, especially now when the guy is so close to your face when he’s helping you stretch. Oh, dear lord.

Every time you are done lifting weights, Toji will have you do stretches. He has you do them before and after a workout as they give your muscles time to warm up and straighten from the stress you put on them. So now, as you’re laying on your mat, Toji puts one hand on your right leg to keep it grounded on the floor and his other hand on the back of your left to push it up to your chest. The position has the two of you so close, him being situated between your legs and observing your breathing; it’s so wrong of you to dwell your mind into other things – other raunchier things.

And when he brings both your legs up to your chest, how the fuck are you supposed to calm your heart from exploding!?? You have to close your eyes during all this to not be pulled in by the examination of his gaze under his raven bangs. This is, without a doubt, the best worst part of the workouts. Thankfully, this is the last workout of the week, and the gym is about to close within an hour and a half.

Toji breaks the suffering silence between you two. “Y’re still stiff; take deeper breaths f’r me.”

Oh, if only he knew how your dirty mind took that sentence. You chew on your lip with a gulp, “Maybe I still have a little energy in me that still wants to exercise.”

That made him chortle. “Is that so? Well, maybe after your stretches, you can get on the stairmaster for a few minutes.”

You gawk at him, only furthering the smirk on his face. “Are you serious!?? You promised we wouldn’t do any cardio until next week.”

“Well, next week is around the corner,” Toji moves your knees a bit to the left, bending them further down to your chest so his face could be a little closer to yours. Your brain almost short circuits at the movement, trying to distract yourself from the fact that his groin is mere inches away from your shorts. “So, since ya got the spirit, be a doll and do a few minutes on the machine, okay? Five minutes.”

Your breathing is so slow that you’re too scared to move. Your lips pressed to a thin line to conceal the quiver, and your eyes don’t dare venture down. You already know your body is going through its own internal turmoil, a throbbing sense occurring in your lower regions the more you keep looking at Toji, who lifts a brow from awaiting your response. Oh, this man is going to kill me.

“…Five minutes.”

“Atta girl.” With a scoff, he finally straightens himself and places your legs on the mat. Toji then stands on his feet and grabs his bag. “Gonna head for the showers; finish up those stretches and head for the stepmaster. See ya later, Y/n.” And you watch him leave for the men’s locker room, finally having room to breathe. Before you can conclude your stretches with a cobra and child’s pose, you grumble to yourself in a whisper.

Why the hell did I have to fall in love with such a snarky, gruff, older guy like him…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You enter the locker room after completing the instructed exercise. Your mind is dizzy from walking on the step machine for about fifteen minutes, and your legs are mere minutes from turning into jelly. You curse Toji internally for the insufferable torture you’ve stressed on your poor limbs.

No matter, though; you’re finally done for the evening and can head home to your soft bed. The gym will close soon, so perhaps you could use the locker room showers to freshen up. But then again, after the strain you’ve put on your body for almost two hours, all you want to do is be home and listen to your favorite music. I don’t feel like cooking today…

Further into the room, you can hear the sound of someone using the showers, indicating you had picked the right idea to head home. You head for the locker side to grab your items to put in your bag before leaving, and it’s then that you hear the water stop running from where the showers are. Oh, shit, make this quick, Y/n!

In front of you is the locker with the number you’re familiar with — where you always leave your things, like your own spot. You open it only to find….nothing is in the locker? Huh? Where are my leggings? And my phone??

Come to think of it, where’s your duffel bag that you usually leave on the bench against the lockers? You’ve never had a problem with people stealing from you in this place, so how does a bag full of your stuff magically disappear? There is a bag in here, but it’s definitely not yours. And now that you get a good look, you start to notice that the color of the lockers is of a different, darker shade than what you’re usually accustomed to. Wait a minute, am I in the wrong—

“Y/n?”

You go still at the familiar voice. Oh no, please, God, no. There’s no way. Your eyes teeter to the corner as you ever-so-slowly turn to the direction where that voice was coming from. And, of course, it was your personal trainer, who is—OH MY GOD!!!

Toji stands afar on the opposite side of you from the showers, without clothing, his body and hair completely drenched from water. The only thing that covers him is a white towel wrapped around his lower body. His body, which you’re used to seeing being snug tight by his gym clothes, is out for you to see as water trickled down from his clavicle, pecs, ribcage, and abs. For a split second, you take in as much of the image as you can, storing this as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in your mind (maybe to fuel more of your erotic fantasies when you go home). But you avert your gaze when your eyes travel down his abs, counting each one until you reach below his belly button, where strays of dark hair become more prominent with a trail down his pelvis and—Okay, stop looking, stop looking!!

“M–Mr. Fushiguro!?” You croak, eyes wide with realization at what you’ve just done. Your dumbass just walked into the men’s locker room without checking first. And to add salt to the wound, your crush is the first person to catch you in the act, “O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in here! I’ll get going—“

“No, no, Y/n, calm down,” Toji walks to where you’re standing; a mini-heart attack was about to be deployed until the older man turned to the side to grab for something in his bag. He pulls out a smaller towel. “Ya walked in here on accident, right?”

You gulp, seeing the steam from the shower still leave from Toji’s nude body. “Uhm, yeahhh, I don’t know where my head was at. Sorry…”

The gym instructor scoffs at your apology. “It happens; must’ve been a bit light-headed from the exercise and forgot where y’re at. Heh, guess those five minutes did more damage than I thought.”

“Ahaha, yeah, it was…pretty….dreadful……” Were you distracted? Yup. Because Toji used the towel he pulled from his bag to wipe off the water from his arms and face. You couldn’t help but survey the man’s movements, watching the small white towel brush on his triceps and glide down to his torso. You continue watching the small towel until your eyes drift to the happy trail on his pelvis. Your breathing goes uneven, thinking of more indecent things that connect with the trail of hair and the limb that’s shielded by the towel around Toji’s waist.

“…–ou there…Y/n?” Your name said to you snaps you back, realizing where you are and what you were doing. Your eyes crawl back to Toji’s face, who throws a small smile at you. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” Sweetie?!? If the floor could give way and swallow you, that would be appreciated. “Is there anythin’ else you need to tell me while y’re here?”

No, I’m in the men’s locker room, so I need to hurry and get the fuck out! “Uhmm, n-nope, nothing at all! So…I better get going now. See you later, Mr. Fushiguro!” You turn on the heel of your foot to head for the door, only able to take about five giant steps before Toji stops you again.

“How was it today?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now!? You look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“The workout. How was it?”

“It…It was, umm, alright, I guess. I feel like I could’ve done better on the weights.”

“And why is that?”

Your body turns to have your front fully face him again. “Well, I mean, I was struggling at the last few reps…I’m sure you noticed, too, since you scolded me about it.”

He hums. “Ya know I correct you because, I know, you can do better, right, Y/n?” It was rhetoric, but you humor him with a slow nod. He brings the small towel to his head and dries his damp hair. “I’ve had many clients who come at me with everything they got or burned out before the first two months. But don’t worry, Y/n, I can tell you take pride in what we’re doing, and it’s good to know…”

His words drown out from your ears. You didn’t mean for it to – you really didn’t. But while Toji was fixing his hair, you snuck more peeks at his body, enjoying his side profile. Admiring the way his arms move and flex, following the rocky silhouette of his abs that lead down to the towel again, you gasp at the dent of something that appears to be between Toji’s legs. Good lord, even with the cotton material covering him, you can still see it and—

“….Y/n.” Oh no, I did it again. You gulp with eyes venturing back to Toji’s face; the grin grew broader than before. “That's twice, sweet thing.”

“S–Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro. It’s just that you have a...uhhh…” The heat in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on looking at the ground, anything to avoid your instructor’s gaze. “…..areallynicebody—“

“Hmm? I didn’t hear that, sweetie,” Sweetie? Sweetie!? Why'd he call me that? What you should be questioning is why that nickname made your stomach flip. But who are you kidding — if anyone had a crush on their instructor and were called a cute name like that, of course, they’d be as hot as a volcano. “Didn’t catch that, say it fr’ me again.”

“I–I said that,” Oh for fuck’s sake, this is so embarrassing! “You have a nice body…An attractive body, really…” The heat on your cheeks and ears is reaching heights that would have you combust at any moment. It’s what you’d hope for, honestly. It’s bad enough you’re stuck in the men’s locker room for not paying attention; now you’re here admitting to your instructor that you got the hots for him. God, please strike me here and now!

Toji says nothing after you say that, and it has your nerves at an all-time high, wondering if you should wait for his reply or just dash for the door and hope no one sees you leaving the men’s locker room. However, his voice breaks the silence, “I can say the same fr’ you.”

Oh, stop it. “Oh, please, no need to butter me up, Mr. Fushigu—“

“I’m serious.” He shuts down your argument down your argument before you can even finish. “C’mere.”

Why did you do what you were about to do? You could’ve just declined, exited the facility, and headed straight home to wallow away about this entire interaction, maybe find a different gym to form a membership with. But you didn’t. Instead, with downcast eyes, you slowly approached your instructor, who stood behind the locker bench. “Closer,” he says, noting how you’re about two arms length away from him, which you meekly decrease to one. “You don’t think ya got a nice body?”

The adjacency between you two was too much for you, your face minutes from imploding. Too shy for words, you settle for a nod to give.

“How come?”

For God’s sake, this is not a conversation you want to have now with your crush instructor in the middle of the men’s locker room. “I…Well, Mr. Fushiguro—“

“Toji,” he cuts you off, discarding the small towel to the top of his bag. “Y’re over here tellin’ me I look good when you’re the one lookin’ like you could strike any guy that walks up in this place. Doncha think so?”

Again, your eyes avoided his toweled figure, focusing on the tiled floor beneath your sneakers. “I guess, but…Toji, when compared to you, I—“

“Then that’s what ya shouldn’t be doin’, who told you to compare y'rself to others?” Toji brings a hand to your chin to make your avoidant peer placed on him, a move you were not mentally strapped in for. “I’m me, and y’re you, right?”

“Right…”

“And that’s a good thing,” the hand on your chin slides down to the inside of your hoodie, his forefinger sneaking under the band of your sports bra. It makes your breathing stop. “But ya know what else I think?”

“What?” You sounded so low – so tiny – you didn’t know if he could hear you. He then brings his face close to your ear, and you could’ve sworn you almost felt your heart jump out of your throat. His free hand comes around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. The cotton of the towel now brushed your leg, and you could sink into a pool of embarrassment at the gasp you let out.

His voice was hoarse and low, the air from his nostrils grazing the skin of your ear. “…I think y’r body is the sexiest thing I’ve seen.”

The sentence hit you like a truck, your heart almost giving in to a complete shutdown. “Huh–Ohhhh, wait,” Toji takes a nibble of your ear while his hand slithers your hoodie off of you, freeing your arms and covered chest where he creeps his hand inside next. You whimper at his fingers on your nipples that harden at his grinding touch. “Toji, wait, please wait…Do you really mean—“

“Mhmm, I do,” He coos, and a kiss to your neck nearly has you give way and lose balance; lucky for you, Toji was smart enough to have a leg between yours. “Now that I have you here, I’ll prove it.”

“We’re—Ahhnnn…But we’re in the men’s locker room,” Toji brings his face up to look at you, your half-lidded eyes locked with his emerald orbs. “Someone could see us…”

Your worries are taken with a caress to your cheek. “Don’t worry about other people when y’re with me. I gotcha, baby.”

“And I’m…Ohooo, really sweaty…”

“Nothin’ a shower can’t fix.”

And before you refute him again, Toji places his scarred lips onto yours, a shocked moan muffled as he kisses and sucks on your bottom lip. The hand in your bra now positions to the back of your neck, positioning you for him to deepen the kiss once you allow him access to your mouth. And once you kiss him back, all the reins of restraint have been discarded along with your hoodie to the floor.

The sounds of lips smacking get louder by the second, the passion in the kiss unraveling when you bring your hands to cup his cheek and have his face practically glued to yours. And Toji complies, shoving his tongue to tease and play with yours. The hand that was on your waist comes down to your ass for him to grope with the flesh, urging more of your sobs to be taken from him. Is it possible for your brain to turn into mush from a kiss? You’re finding that out now, breaking the kiss to gather whatever air you can before Toji claims your lips again.

The leg you’re riding on is nestled between your thighs, rubbing against the groin of your shorts. With every kiss and hump comes a grind on his leg, and it alleviates the growing ache that’s flourishing in your panties. Shivers travel up your spine and heighten your horniness, this elated feeling so dangerous that you could turn into putty at any second.

Toji lets go of your lips with a heavy pant, breathlessly snickering at his work; turning his cute client into a mess flipped a switch he’s been dying to indulge with. “Mmmm, y’re too fuckin’ cute, baby,” he wipes your mouth before letting you go; you hold back a whine when he removes his warm figure from you and steps back. It’s then that your instructor finally removes the towel that’s been shielding a now-discernible tent. The white towel meets the floor, and you follow his happy trail to meet with his erection, a sight that makes your jaw drop. The older man takes a seat on the bench behind him, and his legs spread out for his dick and balls to be ever-so-present and seen.

“Ya see how crazy you and y’r body make me?” He bites his lip, getting more turned on with you marveling at him and his length. “C’mere, angel, lemme see what you can do.” It takes a good mental slap to snap out of your frozen state and look at the thing you’ve been imagining all these months. Now, when the chance has finally been brought to you, how could you pass this up? Following Toji’s command, you come close and go to your knees between his legs.

The sheer size and girth of his length nearly put you in a trance, your eyes taking every detail of his erection before your eyes. Every dent and curve, the prominent veins from the underside, and the oddly pretty pink tip where bits of precum dare protrude from the urethra. Your raised hand has hesitance, yet Toji is quick to assuage your unease, taking your hand with his and wrapping it on his cock. The rough skin on your palm hitches your breath, “Hmmm, oh fuck. Yeah, just like that, princess.”

And there he goes again, egging you on with more cute pet names. Your hand slides up and down along his shaft from the tip to the base, and the sensation of its veins is so raunchy for your overwhelmed fingertips. Toji’s gruff hums to your touches stick to your ears the most, a sound you never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be lucky enough to hear. You want to keep hearing them, want them to be stored in your memory for as long as you can. And when you meekly tease his glans with a tiny lick, the hiss he expresses turns you on even more, so much so that you take the tip with patience and start to suck.

Toji throws his head back to the lockers behind him; the feeling of your tongue rolling around his girth as you inhale his cock is crazy. Fuck, it felt so good – he has to fight the urge to rut into your hollow cheeks and puffy lips. “Hahhh…Mmmm, damn….Ahahaha, ya know how to use that mouth of y’rs, Y/n. Keep suckin’ me off like that, and I’ll—Ohhh! Shit, shit, shiiiit,” he wasn’t prepared for you to take in his entire erection to the hilt. The tightness of your throat around him sends shivers, having to use the bench to grip onto.

You bob your head along his length, a hand accompanying the motions to further the exhilaration. Spit and come wet your palm, yet you’re too focused on the task to care, the haze of your brain increasing every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. The jerk of his hips entails that you’re doing a good job, Toji bringing a hand to the back of your head when you kiss and lick on the head of his cock. You take note, assuming that it’s his weak spot, and continue to suck and tease the tip some more, massaging his testicles which almost had him choke.

“—Hnnmph! Fuckin’ shit, I can’t…” Toji then has enough of this ribbing pleasure, unable to hold it anymore. With a careful hold on your skull, he stands from the bench and plows your face with his member. The harsh hit of his hips propelling his dick down to the deep crevices of your throat was sudden; the assault on your uvula results in your gag reflex; however, Toji was here to calm you down, “It’s alright, angel, breathe fr’ me.” He caters to you with a mediocre rhythm to the hips, the movement relieving the abrupt stress to your throat as you hum on his cock. You find purchase on his thighs to stabilize yourself while he plays with you orally, dialing up the pumps to your mouth until it reaches an erratic mood. Fuck, it has your head ringing, but the growing twinges and throbs between your legs practically excite you for more. Goddamn, it feels so good. So fucking good. “Jesus Christ—Y/n, I’m ‘bout to cum. Keep swirlin’ that tongue…Nnmmm, fuuck, right there, right there—Ahhhck!!”

His release comes with a few rough hits to your lips, his balls hitting your chin until they’re pressed against it. He pups his load into you, and you take it like a champ, letting the fluid venture down as the girth pulsates around your walls. His choked breathing eventually simmers down, giving it a few long seconds before he steadily removes himself from your warm cavity. The last remnants of his white substance paint your tongue, your saliva coating him. And with a voluntary swallow, you open your mouth again to showcase your clean change.

“Heh, didn’t even have to tell you,” Toji chortles, bringing a thumb to wipe your chin. “Good girl.”

KA-CHA! CREEEEK!!

Wide green eyes shoot wide along with yours, and the both of you go frozen rigid. That was most definitely the sound of a door opening. The door to the men’s locker room, where you are on your knees, in front of your personal instructor, with his dick out for the whole world to see. The blood in your body runs cold, and your stomach drops to the chilly floor. Oh, it’s over. It’s done. Your life is officially coming to an end. Welp, it’s time for me to think of a good suicide note when I get home and—

Pause on that. Because one moment you were thinking of your demise from this discomfiting situation, next you’re being dragged by Toji to the other part of the locker room, the showers. He swiftly opens a curtain and throws you both inside with a close, and the wet tiles soaked to your socks have you cringe, so you take them off.

“Hello?” It’s a guy’s voice, of course — Ino’s. The young man is probably inspecting the male locker rooms before they close for the night like usual. You don’t dare speak so much as a letter when the footsteps draw closer to the showers, your heart rate spiking to a nervous high, and your breathing shallow. This is worse; now you’re in a confined space, face-to-face with Toji, who is utterly nude, towel left back on the bench. Your eyes locked with his, and your ears to the sounds of shoes entering the plane. “Anyone here? Saw some stuff at the front.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” your expression turns to sheer terror, wide orbs looking at the raven-haired man who spoke. No! Why would you say something!?

“Hmm? Toji, that you?” Ino’s voice comes closer, in front of the shower curtain that shields you from his field of vision. Your heart is on the verge of dropping to your intestines. “You’re still here? Figured you’d be home by now.”

“Nah, I’m still here. Just about to finish up and head out.” Toji then turns on the faucet, cold peeps of water hitting your sweaty skin, panties, and sports bra. And, of course, it catches you off guard. OH FUUUUUU— You don’t scream. You can’t. Instead, you shield your mouth and turn your back to Toji after giving him the most outstanding death glare of your life, which the older finds amusement in. You wipe your face from the water, cursing internally at this entire predicament.

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just worried someone left their stuff on that bench over there. Carry on, and have a good night!” Ino dismisses himself and leaves the showers, and you exhale a silent sigh of relief. Oh, thank goodness…

Toji, on the other hand, sees your relieved state, and he can’t help but grin to himself with what he’s about to do. Moving closer to you, he brings his wet hands to your sports bra and immediately goes to fondling your breasts. A moan sneaks past you at the contact, prompting him to grope you even more. “T–Toji,” the water gradually gets warmer, juxtaposing with his cold fingers. “Stop, we have to leave, this is—Ohooo…” He tweaks your nipples with his forefinger and thumbs, and a leg sneaks in between yours.

“Relax, dollface, it’s just you and me here,” Oh, sweet Lord, you almost fell to your knees when he whispered to your ear and a teasing lick to your helix. “Got ya all to myself, now…” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, his wet hair brushing your cheek while he snakes his hand down into your panties. The way his fingers graze your clit again has you arch your back to him, another hushed shriek when he bullies his way between your folds.

“Hey, Toji?” Ino’s voice again. Back to anxious stakes now that Toji’s toying with you. Goddamn it, Ino! What are you still doing here!? “I noticed you left your towel on the bench over there. But I also saw Y/n’s hoodie there.” Oh, fuck me!! Shit, shit, shit—"Ohhmph!!"

With quickness, you covered your mouth before your moan caught the ears of the front desk employee. And the reason for that is that Toji pulled down your soaked underwear and gave your chasm a sudden lick. If Ino weren’t back here, you’d give your personal trainer the nastiest kick to the throat you could ever do. But when he inserts a finger inside you, your aggression withered away in seconds.

“Huh? Ohh, yeah, ‘bout that,” Toji stands back up and continues to finger you, chuckling at the sight of your trembling figure using the wall as leverage. “I saw ‘em before headin’ to the locker room. We talked for a while, but then they said they needed to change and told me to hold their hoodie for ‘em.” He says it so casually, all the while scraping your inner walls with the tip of his forefinger, summoning hushed cries that turn to silent screams when his free hand comes down to playfully pinch and press on your clitoris. God, this is too much torture for one night.

Ino keeps questioning. “Really? I had someone check the other locker rooms, and she said she didn’t see anyone or anything except for a few personal items and leggings in one of the lockers. I’m guessing those would be Y/n’s, but where could they be?” Little did he know that you were just a curtain pull away from being found, chewing hard on your lip to quash your screams from the erratic swiping on your clit and the curving hits of his digits in your wetness.

“Mmmm, they probably are at another part of the gym or waitin’ for me at the front.” He lies effortlessly, yet his attention is still on you as he removes his fingers from you, the pleasure subsiding from the removal. Instead, he brings his erection in between your folds and humps you, and the feeling of his dick on your lips worsens the throbs in your awaiting cunt. With the heat coming from the shower and your uneven breaths, you’re bound to faint at any moment.

“Ahh, makes sense. Alright, I’ll try and find them then,” you don’t say anything, just hesitant breaths when you feel the tip of Toji’s cock align and lightly push to your slick-coated entrance. Holy fuck, this is actually happening! Your lips quiver when Toji comes down to your ear to tell you to relax your body from tension, quietly maneuvering you by pulling your lower half to him. You do big inhales and exhales while the man pushes his cockhead to enter your cunt, wincing at the few seconds of pain that accompany each push. “See you later, Toji, and I put your towel on the hood next to your shower for when you’re done. Good night!”

“See ya.” And with Toji’s dismissal, Ino’s footsteps draw farther and farther from where you two are. And the moment you hear the locker room door slam close, Toji pushes the entire cockhead inside of you. Finally, you can squeal out to your heart’s content, balling your fists on the shower wall while your personal trainer wedges his length inside of you and stretches your walls. The girth was definitely something you knew would be an obstacle to accommodate, and it’s worse when your slit keeps clamping around the foreign limb invading inside. Tears begin to swell from the stinging touch, not that they would be distinguished by the shower water hitting behind you and Toji.

“Haahh, ahahhnn, mmmm,” Your wails seep out from your system right as the base of his cock kisses your lower region lips. And after a few seconds, he starts with a slow pace. Knowing that you can feel every dent and vein within you is insane to comprehend; the heat across your cheeks cranks up due to the euphoric sensations. “Ohhhh, my God, Tojiii. I’m so full…”

Toji pecks on your shoulder, “Yeah, sweet thing? I bet so. Just be a good girl and keep grippin’ on me like that, alright? Gonna start movin’ now…” His hips rut into your vagina, pulling his shaft slowly outward and rushing it back inward. Holy shit, it felt so dreamlike — having him actually move inside of you. But it was very much real; having his pelvis meeting the flesh of your ass was proof of such.

A hand snakes down to your clitoris, and a gasp leaves your lips at the brush of his thumb rubbing against it. Your legs tremble at the flick of his finger on your bud, and the pace of his thrusts crank up in speed, making it hard to concentrate on one thing. So many senses are being activated all at once; the shower water raining down on your back, the exhilarating combination of Toji’s dick grinding down on your insides, and the swipes and pinches on your precious clitoris. God, it was all too much.

“Arch some more fr’ me, princess,” Toji gets up to push your back further down, the walls of your chasm clinging onto him as the more exposed opening gives room for you to be plowed. “Hnnmm, shit, feels so good…Hey, let’s try somethin’ different.”

By the time the last bit of his sentence could be registered, he already had you turned to face him, folding your arms around his neck. You didn’t know what for until he hoisted you up, and then you instinctively grabbed hold for dear life before your back hit the wall, your legs wrapped around him while he held you by the thighs. Toji brings his member back to your labia to insert it back inside, and you two moan at the contact again. Oh, this was different – never have you been lifted like this. And to be elevated by your gym crush, in this connotation, is enough to have you appalled.

But what made your breath hitch the most was Toji’s face being up close and personal. The bangs stuck to his forehead thanks to the shower water; his jet-black hair was wet and slicked. Trails flow down his face, drops of water plummeting from his nose and chin. And – oh, sweet Jesus – those green eyes of his, so striking as if they could pierce right through you. They were piercing through you. He took in your expression just as you were his, eyes filled with wanton desire, and it was all directed towards you – for you. He flashes a small smile, teeth peeking from beneath his scarred lips.

Oh, my God. You turn to the side to hide your face from his gaze; it definitely wasn’t the water that was making your cheeks and ears hot at that moment. But that didn’t fly with Toji. He sneaks into a rut that has you jump on his cock, the new position giving his dick an angle to hit your cervix. Because of that, the jab erupts a shriek you had no preparation for withholding.

“Heh, aht, aht, don’t do that,” Oh, he knows he’s in control of this entire situation; you can hear it in his patronizing chortle. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, doll,” he kisses your cheek and trails down to the crook of your neck. “Let me hear you—Aiishhh! Oh, fuuck…”

Once Toji begins to jerk his hips to you, you dwell into a pleasure that you never knew existed. Toji’s length scrapes your inner walls like crazy, like a euphoric itch. The fact that you’re bouncing on the cock of your personal trainer is scary to comprehend. Having him see you like this, hearing you moan and wail for him, you never felt more exposed in your entire life. And also, him holding you like you weigh nothing and fucking you in the men’s locker room showers?! What the actual fuck!? This is actually so embarrassing – I could die!

But why would you? The commotion between your legs feels way too good to bring this to a stop – you two are already joined in a union, so why stop? Every stroke to your slit sends a shiver up your spine, clamping onto him every time he brushes up on your sweet spots that make your nerves tingle. And the occasional jabs to your tender cervix? Damn, the stimulation was enough to have you faint with the heat growing tenfold.

“Mmmff, hoohhh, ohhhhh,” your cries are drowned out by the shower, only heard by Toji. Speaking of, this position gives you proximity to observe his expression. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as if he’s in the zone. The huffs of breath he takes with every roll of his pelvis are so hot to the ear that you wouldn’t mind listening to them all day. Anytime the walls of your wetness clamp onto him, he moans and hushed curses at the feeling of you wanting him. He’s an attractive man, but, holy fuck, this was a sight you thought you’d never see in a million years.

“—Khhhh! Hnmph, ahhhh,” Through the gruff pants, Toji opens his eyes half-lidded, catching you in the moment of staring right at him. You clench onto him; why does this man have to look so fucking sexy!? He smirks, “How we feelin’ now, baby?”

“Hahhh, I–I’m—Ohhh!! Fucking shiiiitt,” you cry out when he slams deep into you, making your toes curl, and your words come out in slurs. “It’s too muuchh, Tojiii, ughhh!! T–Tooo muuuuch…”

“Ya gettin’ close?” Oh, yes, you were. You could feel it through the trembles climbing up your fibers. Your brows trench at the high, and Toji was mean enough to sneak a pinch to the clitoris without you noticing. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you shake your head hurriedly. He chuckles, releasing your clit from his rough fingers and putting his forehead to yours. “C’mon, angel, I won’t know what you want if ya don’t say it.”

Fuck, he’s such a meanie. You love it so fucking much. You mewl to him, “Pleaseee, Tojiii, I want it so bad!”

He lifts a brow. “Want what?”

“—To cum!! Pleasepleaseee, I wanna cum on you, I want it—Ahaahhnn!!” Fuck, it’s coming. Almost there.

That’s all he needed to hear, the grin on his face broadening at your response. “Cum on me, then. I’m right here to catch ya, princess.” His hand returns to your clitoris, pressing down on the delicate button to the point where all he can hear is your sweet screams of lust. His thrusts now get erratically fast, having you rebound to the hilt of his length, the smacks of skin slapping against each other fill the confined space of the shower. And the climb of your aroused high increases until it comes crashing down; you let out one last howl as the electric shocks course through your body, and your release is freed. Your walls squeeze hard onto Toji as you indulge in your climax; him pistoning his cock to your sensitive labia adds to the chilling sensitivity. Your cunt flutters around his cock while you experience your crescendo, your eyes screwed shut to enhance the experience, not aware of Toji watching you ride out your orgasm on him.

The trembles calm down, the shocks subside, and your breathing descends into a steady rhythm. Throwing your head back, you rest your back against the wall while still in Toji’s hold, using this time to indulge yourself in this moment of clarity.

Toji lets out a tiny laugh, bringing his face to your neck to suck on it. “That felt good, sweet thing?” You sigh out of breath, nodding to his question. “Hmmm, good. But ya know I’m not done, right?” Your blood ran cold, your body rigid still. Wait, huh? “I let you have your fun, so be a good girl, and lemme have mine.”

The involuntary twitch of your slit should give you a clue as to how the news hit you, and you can't tell if it'll be him or the shower that will have you melting like a puddle by the time this is over...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Haibara walks out to the front desk, where Ino hurriedly stuffs his phone back into his pocket, away from his superior’s eyes. Fortunately for the younger man, the older one didn’t see his device. “Hey, Ino, I got a question.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” The associate fidgets with his brown hair under his rolled-up ski mask.

“Have you seen Mr. Fushiguro and Y/n today? Toji told me he couldn’t make it for Monday night, but I haven’t seen Y/n that day or Wednesday.” The older brunette looks around to find any resembling cues, but his eyes see nothing that sparks familiarity.

Ino blinks before answering. “No. And now that you mention it, I haven’t seen or heard from them since last week…”

Haibara leans on the desk and sighs. “Hope Y/n’s doing all right. Usually, they’d call or shoot a text telling me they couldn’t make it for their appointments with Fushiguro. But this is twice where neither of them show up.”

“Hmm, can’t say I have an idea.” The other shrugs at his superior’s concerns. “I didn’t get a call or text from Y/n either, so maybe I’ll give ‘em one after my shift. Heh. Let’s hope they didn’t replace us with another gym.”

With trenched brows, Haibara took offense to the younger brunette’s words. “Cut that out, man! I’d be pretty upset if they just suddenly stopped showing up here. Half a year of coming in and out and getting to know each other, only for them to just vanish like that…At the very least, they could give a call!” He passionately bangs on the front desk, giving Ino a startle.

RING-RING-RING!! RING-RING-RING!!

The two froze at the sudden ring of the desk phone as if Haibara’s fist magically granted them a call. And by the exchanged glances they shared before Ino picked up the phone, they better hope it wasn’t the call they were expecting. “Hello, this is Golden Gate Gym. My name is Takuma Ino; what can I do for you?”

“Hey, is that you, Ino?”

“Hey, Y/n!” Ino turns to Haibara, whose eyes share the same perplexity as his. “It’s good to hear from you; where’ve you been? You’ve been MIA for almost a week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had a little accident and sprained my ankle; I couldn’t come to the gym on Monday and Wednesday.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” Haibara watched the younger man’s tone change to concern, which didn’t help his nerves either. “Sorry to hear about that, but it’s a good call not coming here and taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks. Is Haibara there with you by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s right next to me, actually.” Ino takes the initiative to give the darker brunette the phone to speak with the one on the other side of the line. Haibara outstretches his arm to take the phone and put the receiving end to his ear. “Yo, Y/n!”

“Hey, Haihai. I meant to call you Wednesday, but I’m letting you know that Mr. Fushiguro and I are still doing our weekly appointments.”

Haibara sighs in relief internally, giving Ino a thumbs up. “Oh, thank God! You two had me worried there for a second. We didn’t see you guys here and thought you’d be a no-show again.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scare. Mr. Fushiguro found out about it and decided it would be….Haahhh….best for me to do my regimine at my apartment instead…”

“Well, that’s nice of him to look out for you with your ankle. I’m sure he’s doing what he can to—“

“Ahaahhnn!!”

A sudden yelp pops into the call out of nowhere and completely takes Haibara aback from the phone as if it was so out of place for the topic that was taking place. Ino notices it when the darker brunette gives him a brief perplexed look, which the younger shrugs at. “Uhh, Y/n? You busy right now?”

Oh, you were busy, all right. You’re at your apartment right now. Your ankle? Absolutely fine, nothing wrong about it in the slightest. The only change, however, is not being at the gym for this entire week and staying home instead. Why?

How about asking your personal trainer who has you propped upside down, standing up with his hands holding you by your ass, stuffing his face to your exposed cunt which he licks and sucks on. The feeling of his tongue digging through your labia has your hips jerking, but his strong arms exhibit unmoving effort in keeping your wetness in his mouth. His pants down to his knees, and his erect length in your hand and brushing your cheek. This is most definitely not the at-home exercise that Haibara is thinking of.

“…Hello?…Y/n, you there?”

Oh, shit! “Y–Yeah, I’m here! Sorry, my ankle is acting up on me—Ohhhh…Fushiguro’s looking at it for me…” Oh, please, he’s not checking shit; fucker indulging himself between your asscheecks, ravishing your folds like a sweet fruit to his tastebuds.

“Oh! So you two are exercising together right now?” Toji nibbles on your vagina and grazes with his teeth, having you gasp and twitch. His tongue surprising your clit prompts a choked whine. “That’s good to know then! Alright then, see you guys when you’re ready to return to the gym. And tell Toji not to put too much on you, ya hear?”

“—Khhhh, mhmm…I’ll give him an earful for you. See you later, Haibara…”

“Great, see ya. Happy Friday!”

And with that farewell, you can finally toss the phone down and coo to your heart’s content, biting your lips at Toji stuffing his mouth on your bare chasm; his muffled groans vibrate your lower half like crazy. “Ohhooo!! Ohhhfuckkk, I’m gonna cumm,” your words slur with a suck to your clitoris, your hips bucking involuntarily. “Lemme cum, Tojiiii, I wanna—Ahaaaa!!”

He removes his face from your ass with an exhale as if he was dying for breath. But based on the grin plastered on his face, he wouldn’t mind being in this position for a little while. “Oh, I don’t think so, doll. I don’t think ya deserve to cum in my mouth.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear right now. “Ahahnn!! You’re such an asshole, Toji…”

He chuckles crudely. “That’s where I’m gonna play with next if you don’t stuff my dick in that pretty mouth of y’rs already. Suck me good; then maybe I’ll let the princess cum all over me.”

Broad strokes from his pelvis rub his dick on your cheek, a reminder of your part of this endeavor that you must partake in. The smell of him overwhelms your nostrils into a pornographic trance, your head pounding just from looking at it. You gulp and take the tip into your mouth, sucking and licking the precum off while your hands glide up and down his shaft. “Good girl, good girl…” Toji goes back to smacking his lips on your folds, moving his tongue in whirlpool motions that have you moaning on his cock. God, it feels so good, so fucking good. You can see yourself becoming addicted to this, and that’s a bit scary seeing this professional relationship drift to something more touchy and personal…

…But then again, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?

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scudslut · 1 month

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Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

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karajaynetoday · 2 months

Text

nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

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lightlycareless · 4 months

Note

Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns. “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she? Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?” you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!” Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?” the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby… but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least… until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.” He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare��I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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beybaldes · 5 months

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Karma is the guy on AFC Richmond, coming straight home to me!

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent × gn!famous!reader (loosely inspired by Taylor swift and Travis Kelce)

summary: “kisses with a height difference” requested by two anons <33

an: okay you can actually thank the queen of my heart @onceuponaoneshotfanfic for my sudden (although potentially one night only we’ll see if I get my uni essay done lol) return because she reposted a celebrity prompt list and it got my mind whirring oops love you tally thank you for breaking my writers (and reading) block <33

“Hot.”

One simple word had sent your 68 million instagram followers into an absolute frenzy, and half of them, you were pretty sure, didn’t even know who Roy Kent was.

“‘So nice of them to put this football player on the map?’ They do know I was famous long before you ever were, right?” You only laughed as Roy grew more frustrated, allowing him to scroll through your Twitter account while you made the both of you some breakfast.

“Hey, maybe they have a point?” You tried to stifle your laughter, knowing Roy’s eyes would be sending daggers into your back, though only for a moment so he could continue winding himself up over the things people were tweeting. “I mean Richmond tickets have now sold out for the rest of the season.”

Roy knew you were only joking. Well, kind of. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, recently celebrating your one year anniversary, but besides the odd article about each of you potentially seeing someone, no one knew you were together - let alone that you even knew each other. Keeley had been blowing up Roy’s phone since she saw the comment demanding to meet you, her favourite superstar, and you’d woken up to 37 missed calls from your dad, furious you hadn’t told him you were dating Chelsea legend Roy Kent.

Above everything, you’re still in disbelief Roy tried to hard launch your relationship in the comment section if your most recent instagram post on a random Tuesday evening.

“Hmm, and I’m sure your next tour is going to sell out 10 times faster now the world knows you’re with the great Roy Kent.” Roy had given up on reading tweets speculating about what his comment meant and if the two of you were together, instead choosing to press his bare chest agains your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you finished up breakfast. Fortunately you knew, Roy Kent or not, your next tour was going to sellout. Though you’d rather have Roy be by your side for it.

“Maybe if I’m lucky.” Putting down your fork, you turned in Roy’s hold to face him, standing on the very tips of your toes to press a lovingly slow kiss to his lips. Since dating Roy, you were certain early mornings were for breakfasts that take too long to cook and kisses that end too soon for your liking. Roy’s grip on you tightened and he dipped his head slightly, making the kiss as easy on you as possible. When you began to pull away, he only ducked his head further to press his lips back against yours. “Mmm, although I’d already consider myself very lucky.”

“That you are.” Roy murmured against your lips, immediately pressing them flush against yours when he’d said his piece. “And so am I.”

an: okay short and sweet but I’m hoping to get back in to writing and get up to date with my requests now that I’m settled at uni and with my new job. Missed you guys hope you all are well <33

#beybaldes writes !!#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #another banger another banger by onceuponaoneshotfanfic from tumblr.com

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moni-logues · 15 days

Text

Scoreboard

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (afab)

Genre: pwp/smut, friends-to-lovers

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: A handjob between friends? That's deniable. You can walk that back. Oral? You weren't so sure about that, but Chan was adamant he had to keep things fair..

Content: oral sex (f. receiving), fingering

A/N: DIFFERENT SPACES COUPLE RETURNS!!!!!! A few people had asked about a part two, and I have thought about it, uh, not just a few times lol so here we finally are. WAS I going to let them have sex in part 2? Yes. HAVE I done that? .... No. You'll just have to ask for part 3, losers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I don't think you have to have read the first part to enjoy this but you'd probably get a little more out of it if you have read it)

also yes, unbeta'd etc

*~*~

You could have kissed him forever. Would have were other parts of you a little more patient, a little more willing to take things slow. But you’d wanted Chan for weeks, months, almost years, and now he was finally here, beneath you, kissing you, hands skating softly up the curve of your waist, hesitating at your ribs.

You weren’t hesitating. Not anymore. You pulled back from him so you could strip yourself of your top and you threw your bra with it. Didn’t give him a chance to react, to take you in. Just took his face in your hands and his bottom lip between your teeth again.

“Touch me,” you mumbled, mouth still pressed against his, and you guided his hands upwards, cupped them over your breasts, prayed you wouldn’t have to keep coaxing action out of him.

Because he had said he wanted it. He was kissing you like he wanted it. He had said so. Well, he had said he ‘was amenable’ to sex, which wasn’t exactly gushing enthusiasm but you would take it.

“Chan,” you whispered, taking a beat.

You sat back on your heels, inhaled deeply, and looked at him. He looked at you, colour high on his cheeks, ears burning, a little dazed, a little unsure.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked.

You were crossing a line. That was certain. You were pretty sure that, if you stopped now, you could take it all back. You could rewind this evening and just be friends again. If he wanted. But going forward meant going forward. No returns. You would rather have him as a friend than nothing else, so you needed him to be sure now, right now at this moment, with your toes just over the line.

“Yes!” he said, urgent, emphatic. “Yes, I do. I’m just...”

He groaned and dragged his hands down his face. He didn’t look at you when he spoke next.

“I’m fucking nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you.”

“What am I?”

He looked at you then, wide and open and the cutest he’d ever been. His hands hesitated in the air, not quite reaching out for you, but not not. You held them, shuffled yourself forward on his lap again, pushed his hair from his forehead.

“Hmm,” you said, contemplating his brow. You tapped it lightly with one finger. “I think you might be thinking too much about this.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he laughed.

“Close your eyes, Channie.”

You didn’t. You kept them trained on his face. You needed to think now; you needed to slow yourself down so he could catch up. You’d had months to think about this, fantasise about it, dream about it: a thousand scenarios, a thousand acts, a thousand kisses... You had had time, you reminded yourself, to wait for this. Much longer than he had.

And you still had time. This wasn’t a race. The ache in your core was persistent, was impatient, but you didn’t have to be.

You put your lips to his and kissed him. Slow. Deep. It didn’t have to go anywhere, you told yourself, hoping that Chan was somehow getting the message, too. He didn’t have to be nervous, because you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to.

You just needed to know what he did want and you would give him the time to tell you.

Eventually, you felt his body relax a little; he leant back, shuffling down on the sofa and pulling you with him. He let his hands roam, grazed a nipple with his thumb a little experimentally until you moaned into his mouth for more. His hands were warm, like his heart, and firm, kneading at your breasts, pinching at your nipples and then pushing you backwards.

With no hesitation this time, no nervous giggles, no shy glances, he put his lips around your tight bud and sucked. He kissed and he licked and he carefully grazed his teeth over you, fully absorbed in the moment. His hot breath against your skin made you shiver and his wet tongue made you wetter.

When you felt as though he had traversed the peaks and valleys of your chest quite enough, you gave a tug at his hair and he finally flicked his eyes to yours. They were black and glazed and the look in them was like nothing you had seen from him before. It sent a thrill racing up your spine and you were about to tell him: how much you wanted him, how good that mouth was, how you wanted it elsewhere, but he spoke first.

“I want to go down on you.”

You choked, shocked out of your lustful stupor. You laughed.

“I thought you were nervous!”

His eyes lightened then, eyebrows raised.

“Are you? We don’t have to- I-”

“No!” You were quick to cut him off, desperate not to let him start thinking again, very happy with where his feelings were leading. “I want to. I want you to. Just... wasn’t expecting you to say it like that.”

The blush was back on his face but he wasn’t so bashful this time. Not quite. There was too much desire there, too much greed.

You stepped off from the sofa and, in one smooth motion, pushed your leggings and underwear to the floor. You kicked them off your feet and rejoined Chan on the sofa, swinging one leg over him, leaning down onto your elbows to resume where you had left off. Your lips were almost touching when his hands came down onto your hips and he swore.

“Fuck! Fuck, you are naked.”

“Yes, that tends to happen when you take your clothes off.”

His touch rounded your backside, another curse escaping on an exhale as his hands roamed this undiscovered territory. You took the opportunity of the distraction to kiss him, but it didn’t last long.

“You’re fucking naked,” he said again, as if it were really a wonder.

“And you’re not,” you countered.

“Fair point.”

And he slapped lightly at your bum to encourage you off him, so he could push his own trousers down, discard his own underwear.

“Now we’re both naked,” you pointed out.

When your eyes met, there was a frisson of tension that you’d felt before, and you knew where it was going, but you forced the laughter down, couldn’t collapse into hysterics – not again, not right now.

“Is this weird?” he asked, thinking again. Always fucking thinking.

“Only if you make it weird! Do you want it to be weird?”

“No.”

“Because it’s going to be if you keep saying it is.”

You sat back in his lap, arms draping over his shoulders, as he rubbed at his face again.

“It’s just...”

He swore quietly as he nuzzled his nose into your neck, dragged it down your jaw and across your cheek until his lips found yours again.

You could feel him beneath you, stirred, re-awakened, and it sent a spasm through your walls. You’d held him in your hand but what you wouldn’t have given to squeeze him in your slick cunt.

“Chan,” you breathed out. “I want to fuck you.”

He kissed you in reply, moaning for half a second before he stopped.

“Wait- no. I want to go down on you.”

“Can’t we just fuck first?”

You rested your forehead against his, rolled your hips over him to make the point for you.

“I just want to fuck you,” you whispered. “Please.”

He shook his head slowly, carefully, still pressing on yours.

“Later. I want to go down on you.”

And you couldn’t deny that hearing those words, not once, not twice, but three times now, made you want it, too. Made you think about his lips and his tongue and fingers and the piercing, blinding reality of this. That it was happening. That none of this was a dream.

“I owe you one,” he continued and you paused.

“Owe me what?”

“An orgasm. I had one. You haven’t.”

“Are we counting?”

He snorted and denied it.

“No, I just think- I just want it to be even.”

You smacked a kiss against his cheek.

“Well, if we’re keeping score, we’re going to need some kind of chart.”

He couldn't stifle his laugh and you joined him, letting a little of the tension go, aware that this could easily careen out of control, abs still hurting from the fit you both had earlier that evening.

“I don’t want a chart, I just...”

He looked at you and you looked back. The merriment fell away, discarded in an instant. Because this wasn't actually funny. Not really. It was hot. It was thrilling. It was frightening. You could see him thinking in those dark eyes, trying to find the right words; you wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to try so hard. Not for you.

“I want this to be good for you.”

You resisted the urge to scoff, because you knew he meant it, and because this meant something to you. Something. Everything.

“It is good for me,” you told him, lips close enough to touch his. You closed the gap and kissed him, firmly. “I want you so fucking badly.”

He tightened his arms around you, crushing your body to his as he latched his mouth to yours. He still tasted like honey butter chips and you knew you’d never be able to eat them without thinking of him, thinking of this. You were definitely crossing a line. The line. And you could not contain your excitement. It smeared between your lips, slick beneath you as you rolled over Chan’s hot, flushed cock.

“I want-” Chan broke away, breathing heavily, “I want to go down on you,” he said, with greater determination this time. “I want to eat you out.”

Without waiting for a response, he tipped you carefully, moving out from under you, pulling your hips to the edge of the sofa and pushing your thighs apart.

“Oh shit,” he breathed, just looking at you.

His hands squeezed at your inner thighs as his jaw clenched. You had seen this kind of focus in him before: powerful and performing and dripping with sweat, determined to leave everything he had out there on the stage, to die before he gave up. A shiver of anticipation rippled across your skin and no sooner had it settled than Chan shifted closer, dropping a surprisingly chaste kiss to your thigh. Another followed it, then one more on the other side. He kissed you all over, some barely there, some that you knew would leave a mark.

“You know you’re literally dripping?” he asked and there wasn’t so much as a hint of his former nerves, his bashfulness, but there remained a quiet awe, a slight disbelief at what was about to happen.

There was also his cheeky, little smirk, and eyes black as pitch, wide like an open mouth. Hungry.

“I’m very fucking aware,” you retorted, the admonition undermined by your breathlessness. “Get on with it.”

He rolled his eyes at you, playfully, like he had done a thousand times before. Then he did something he had never done before. With one hand gripping each thigh, he put his mouth to your lips and licked a broad stripe up to your clit. You quivered, whimpered, swore when he did it again, when he gathered all your arousal on his tongue and swirled it over your swollen bud.

It made you forget every fantasy you’d ever had. You couldn’t remember if you thought he’d be like this or not. Couldn’t remember if you’d imagined correctly the soft, sweeping pad of his tongue flat against you or the hard flick of its tip. Couldn’t recall for even a second if you’d thought to imagine the way his hands would squeeze and pull at you. Had you guessed that he would moan like that? Had you dreamt the feel of his hair between your fingers?

Your hips were moving on their own, uncontrolled by you. Uncontrollable. You couldn’t stop them rutting against his mouth, couldn’t stop the noise resounding from yours.

“Chan, fuck,” you gasped as he sealed his lips tight around your clit and slipped two fingers inside you. “Like that, oh shit, like that. Please... Please...”

He moaned in response, continuing precisely as he was, like that. Just like that. His tongue flicking at your clit like a switch that only turned on. His fingers curling, pressing hard inside you, pushing and pulling in one direction only. He was firm and precise and confident.

You remembered the way he had, minutes ago (was it really just minutes?), taken your fingers in his mouth, sticky with his own cum, after he had finished. You shivered with the heat of it. The thought of the taste of him mixing with the taste of you sent fresh arousal flooding into Chan’s hand; he was quick to catch it, his lips popping as his tongue slipped down to swipe at his sticky fingers pushing the juices from your pussy. The slick sound of it all made you blush, the noise of his enjoyment deepening the heat in your cheeks and your core.

He let his fingers work for a second, his breath washing over your flushed cunt like a hot wind.

“Fuck,” he panted, leaning back on his knees and tipping his head towards the ceiling.

You opened your eyes when you felt his other hand leave your thigh, watched him squeeze at the base of his cock – so dark, so hard, so wet with precum.

“You ok?” you gasped, still rolling your hips against his hand.

He nodded, still looking skyward.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he replied.

His head fell forward and his eyes caught yours, the look in them making you suddenly shy, a giggle slipping out before you could stifle it. Though you needn’t have worried it would start the hysterics again because it was stopped short, cut off by the gasp elicited by Chan’s tongue, licking up your lips, circling your clit, teasingly light and then harder with every rotation.

You gripped the sofa cushions tight, knuckles white, as the slow ticking of the pleasure bomb inside you grew faster, accelerating towards explosion with great intention. You knew it all too well: the tightening, the quivering, the deep, heavy drag that, in a split-second, sprang high, ricocheting from head to toe, gushing forward in a scream of delight.

You flopped back into the cushions, sticky with sweat, chest heaving, head lightly spinning. Chan left a playful trail of kisses up your torso, onto your chest and your neck and then your mouth. He grinned at you, dopey and sparkling.

“One all.”

#skz x reader #skz smut #bangchan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #bangchan x reader

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Text

Moment of Truth

Neteyam’s First Rut: Chapter VII

Read Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V & Chapter VI

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (21) x Avatar Reader (21)

Warnings: nsfw, ANGSTANGSTANGST, pregnancy, blood, reader cries way too much, a sliver of smut (in comparison), make up/pregnant sex creampie, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 8.5k [I have no excuse]

Requested: Yes || No || Kinda

Author’s Note: why am I so dramatic lol. the amount of angst in this is sickening, but it’s okay there’s a happy ending, I promise.

Synopsis: You’ve been keeping a big secret from your mate, Neteyam. It’s time to come clean, but when finally you decide to... something happens.

Previously:

“Ma’ yawne. You had me worried. Ta’sun is in good hands, okay? Let us go home.” he reassures you, not even considering how being away for long would make you feel. He rubs your back whilst coming out the water. “How do you feel... otherwise?” he asks, a sliver of relief in his voice.

“I’m okay. I just want to go home, please.” you mumble, already feeling the guilt of lying about something so big.

The ride home is quiet. You cling to your mate, running an array of scenarios through your head. Scenarios of you sitting him down, and telling him the truth. Only for him to respond to you with a cold shoulder, or worse – anger and disappointment. You can already hear it:

“y/n, how could you be so careless? If you knew, why did you not say anything? I asked you, multiple times!”

Because the truth is, you knew. You knew from the moment you sat in between his legs on Seze, feeling the influence of his pheromones. You knew, deep down, that your heat was creeping up on you, yet you still reassured him that you wanted this – wanted him. You knew that when you did accept the truth, that it was too late.

Your eyes remain shut, tears still silently running down your cheeks, hurting from words he never spoke.

“Shh... my love. We are almost there. Ta’sun is going to be so excited to see his sa’nu [mummy], that he will not even look his sempu [daddy].” he chuckles, a warm hand holding you close to him.

His words only make you bawl more, dimples forming in your chin as it quivers. The thought of your baby jumping about excited to see you makes your heart sink even more, because you know you could have another budding in your womb, excited to meet you too.

----

Three weeks have passed since Neteyam’s rut. Each day felt torturous, carrying the burden of such a heavy secret in your heart. There were countless moments where you yearned to sit down and tell him the truth – to tell him you may be pregnant. But there were also moments where you tried, where it came out more as a light-hearted joke, rather than a confession. The moments where he made it clear that it not something he wanted.

“You look like you want a baby tsmukan [brother] or tsmuke [sister] to protect, ma’ Ta’sun. Look at you getting so big.” you coo, watching your son crawl to you.

Neteyam chuckles behind you, watching his son try his best to make quick strides back to his sa’nu. “None, right ma’ Ta’sun? You are still a baby yourself, too young and sweet to have that responsibility.” Neteyam speaks from his own experience, being the bigger brother – the protector, all his life.

Just like that, a few more stones in your heart.

It hurt you. To know the father of your child wouldn’t be excited to hear he was having another. It only made you retreat even further into your shell, denying yourself your own excitement of possibly having another Ta’sun in your womb. You tried your best to turn a blind eye to your blatant symptoms, that you began to experience in only a week.

Just the sight of steamed bladder polyps made you gag, and if the smell ever wafts past your nose, you’d to run out of the tent to heave into the shrubs. The craving for Yovo fruit has come back ten-fold, now being the only thing that you can keep down. There was a new heaviness in your womb, much like the heaviness in your heart. A heaviness that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t deny.

Your breasts became tender and sore. Each time he latched white-hot pain seared through your breast, making you jolt in your skin. You endured it regardless; you’d do anything for your son. But Ta’sun weaned overnight, out the blue – another thing that kept you from sleeping soundly.

“Teyam, he keeps biting me.” you cry, frustrated and worn out. “It hurts, I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what is happening.” you lie once more, already knowing it’s because your milk doesn’t taste the same due to the new hormones in your body.

“Ah, my love.” he rests his hands on your shoulders, only for you to shrug him away. “It is alright. It is time now that he weans.” he tries to reassure you, stepping back to give you the space you want.

“You are not listening to me... I wish you listened to me.” you hiccup, talking about something completely different.

His brows pinch together, pity plastered on his face. “Oh, ma’ yawne. I know you are frustrated.” a hand hovers over your shoulder for a split second, “I am sorry.” he apologizes, retreating his hand, feeling like he could be a better mate – a better father.

You felt terrible. You knew your attitude hurt Neteyam, lashing out on him when you were upset.

Neteyam could tell something was off about you, but he chalked it up to something that happened that day – something that he did wrong. There was unspoken, unpleasant tension between the two of you. You remained in your shell, trying to hide all the symptoms of the budding babe in your womb. But it only came off as detachment. He tried to make it up to you daily with numerous gestures of love, all of which you brushed off because of the guilt bubbling deep in your chest. You felt that you didn’t deserve his love, keeping a lie this big from him – and he felt that he deserved your cold, distant treatment.

“Ma’ txe’lan [heart]. I made your favourite. Are you hungry?” he smiled wide, bringing you a bowl of steamed bladder polyps with Ta’sun strapped to his chest.

Your face screwed, stomach turning at the smell wafting past your nose. Eyes slamming shut, you exhale harshly, trying to get the smell out your system. A fire sets in your lungs as they beg for air. You shake your head, and run outside, leaving him there alone – his smile drooping into a frown.

He waited patiently for you to come around, giving you as much time as you needed. At times, he confided in his mother, wishing to get clarity – to gain some sort of understanding. He thought, perhaps it was something deeper, something that women experience after having a baby. There would be moments where he would try to talk to you, or just cherish you in his arms. The moments where he would lightly tug at your queue, silently asking to feel connected with you.

Neteyam presses his body against yours, yearning for his mates’ soft, soothing touch. He misses you, yet you’re lying right in front of him. Not wanting to pressure you into anything, he never took it father that just this. But tonight, his heart weighs extra heavy, despite it being empty.

“Y/n.” he whispers, lips brushing against your neck. “I miss you.” his voice cracks, riddled with anguish.

The words are like a dagger to your heart, piercing it enough for the stones to tumble out. You miss him, too. Yet you lay there as silent as a yerik [hexapede], putting on yet another sleeping façade. Desperate fingertips brush the length of your queue. He knows that you’re awake, he could hear your thumping heart.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers once more, knowing you’re listening. “I see you. For life.” his way of telling you that he’ll wait for however long you need him to.

You cry, and cry, and cry, scooting back into his arms as you tugged your queue from his fingertips, holding it tight to your bosom. “I love you.” you spit the words, breath hitching from your sobs.

You couldn’t believe yourself, being such a hypocrite. You were so upset with Neteyam when he lied to you about going on the hunting trip with his father so he could just spend his rut alone. A lie that was for your benefit.

It all became unbearable. Your symptoms became unbearable – indubitable. It was eating you alive, you had to know for sure... to come clean. But you didn’t know how. To simply say “I think I am pregnant” seemed too easy – too simple. How could you say such a thing after weeks of mistreatment? After weeks of being a horrid mate? You needed advice. Who better to give that to you than your best friend?

Kiri.

----

“Neteyam. Kiri wanted to talk to me. Sounds important. You okay with Ta’sun for a while?” the lie slips off your tongue too easily.

“Of course, ma’ yawne. Don’t you want to eat before you go? You have not eaten all day.” he smiles slightly, glancing at the bladder polyps.

“Uh – no. But thank you, Nete. I’m gonna get going before the eclipse starts, okay?” you say, backing out of the tent. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Oh, okay. I love-” his voice strains, quickening to catch you before you... slip out the door. “...you.” he finishes his sentence, a sinking feeling in his chest makes his ears lay flat. He looks down at his son, perched in his lap.

“What did sempu [daddy] do wrong?” he croaks, tucking Ta’sun’s growing hair behind his ears. Ta’sun babbles at his father in return, staring up at him with a wide-eyed goggle and a gummy smile.

----

Too deep in thought, you were already at Kiri’s tent, standing at her door focused on your feet. The emotional overload is overwhelming. You were... everything, all at once. Angry. Sad. Disappointed. Anxious... In denial – heavy denial. Kiri being his sister didn’t make it any better. How would you tell her? How could you tell her? You’d been mistreating her brother for weeks. Surely, she wouldn’t be happy to hear that, even if you’re her best friend – her sister. Body going into fight or flight, you turn around, ready to flee.

“Y/n?” Kiri’s hushed voice makes to spin around, surprised. “Why are you here?” a look of puzzlement on her face, she peeks behind you, looking for Neteyam and Ta’sun before focusing back on you. Her expression softens, taking in the sight of her sister’s puffy eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. “...what happened? Come.” she asks through a gasp, dragging you in her tent.

She sits you next to her on her cot, waiting patiently for you to speak on your own. All you can do is bury your face into your hands and cry silent tears. Snaking her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you in, swaying you both side to side.

“Tsmuke [sister].” her tongue clicks, “tell me what’s the matter, hm?” she hums, rubbing your arm.

Breath skipping uncontrollably, you try to tell her what happened, only for it to come out as gibberish. All except for the words “you’re going to be mad at me.”

“Y/n. Take a breath. You’re okay. You’re safe. I won’t be upset with you, okay?” she calms you, holding you in front of her firmly by the arms. “Okay?” she repeats slowly.

You nod quickly, wiping away your tears. “I think that I am pregnant.”

Kiri searches your eyes, a look of puzzlement washing over her once more. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this a good thing? A blessing, yes? And why would I be upset with you about that?”

“B-because. I-I have been hiding it from Neteyam. I’ve been a horrid mate. I didn’t know my heat would come. I’ve been so cold and distant from him. And – and he doesn’t understand why! I try my best to hide my symptoms, but I just end up avoiding him. Lashing out on h-him. He – he thinks it’s his fault. That he did something wrong. I want to tell him, but... I don’t know how.” you blubber on and on, eventually looking up at Kiri’s even more puzzled face. “He’s going to be upset with me, Kiri.” you voice hushes down into a hoarse whisper, bottom lip trembling.

“Y/n.” she huffs out as a sigh. “Why would he be upset? Was he upset when you found out about Ta’sun? No. He loves being a father. Why would he be... upset?” she repeats her question, grimacing at the word. She knows her brother puts his mate and child over anything – anyone.

“He said it himself. H-he thanked Eywa... that he didn’t get me pregnant. He thinks it’s too soon – too soon for Ta’sun to have a younger sibling. He’s been like this since we first mated, Kiri. He told me once that I was lucky I didn’t get pregnant on my first heat. I just, I know he will be upset with-” your blubber is cut short by Kiri holding your face.

“Tell. Him.” she states firmly, pursing her lips slightly. She pulls you in, wrapping her arms around you. “Tell him, y/n. Trust me.” she hums, tightening her warm embrace. “And we need to go see grandmother. Today. Like, now.” she pulls back, raising her brows as she looks at you, as if to say ‘got it?’.

You try to smile, biting your bottom lip. Hearing Kiri’s comforting words and feeling her soothing touch lightened the weight in your heart. But it’s quickly filled with something else, something that quickened the thud of your heart. Fear.

Kiri picked up on it straight away, a gift from Eywa if you will. “Do not fret. It will be okay, no matter what she says. I am here for you. Everyone is here for you.” she says her words slowly, drilling them in your head.

Will Neteyam be here for me? You ponder.

----

“You are with child.” Mo’at grins, placing her wooden pick back into its casing. She kneels behind you, humming as she presses her palm firmly against your back. “seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], a girl child.” her grin grows wider, “Ta’sun will have tsmuke [sister].”

A baby girl.

For the first in three weeks, you feel nothing but happiness. It’s like a moment of silence in all the noise, all the buzz that’s been ringing non-stop in your head. All the voices finally hush, leaving your heart warm, and light. A moment of euphoria.

A moment.

A silent gasp parts Mo’at’s lips. Eyes rolling back into her head, she mutters under her breath – something you can’t quite make out. “Grandmother?” Kiri squeaks quietly, afraid to disturb the elder in trance. Mo’at’s grin falls quickly.

“Kiri?” you reach your hand out to find her. She holds your hand, giving it a quick squeeze, reminding you of her words ‘It will be okay, no matter what she says.’

“My child. Your distress has affected your unborn. You must rest. Go. Tell your mate.” she states, slowly backing away from you.

A moment.

Waves of anxiety and guilt crash into you so hard they wind you, leaving you breathless. Not only had you been a terrible mate, but a terrible mother, ignoring your unborn – denying her existence. The heaviness of your heart returns, ten-fold, leaving no space for the happiness that was just there.

It didn’t feel real.

Is there really a baby in here? You rest a gentle hand on your abdomen.

Kiri embraces you once more, snapping you out of your daze. “Tell him, y/n. Tell him now.”

“Okay.” you mutter, getting up to walk out the healer’s tent. Kiri walks next to you, linking her arm with yours. “I got it, Kiri. Thank you.” you say monotonously, trying to feel nothing for the sake of your... baby.

“Are you sure?” she asks, slowly unlinking her arm from yours.

“Yeah. I’m sure. I’m going to take my time anyways... to think some more.” your words are flat, lifeless – much like how you feel.

“Alright, y/n. The eclipse is starting, so don’t take too long. Okay?” she hesitates, reluctant to leave you alone.

“Yeah. Okay.” you say, keeping your eyes on your feet.

“Everything will be alright. Get plenty of rest.” she tries to comfort you, only to be met with your blank stare.

Parting ways, you begin the trek home. It wasn’t too far, unfortunately. You really wanted some more time to think about what you were going to say and how you were going to say it. Not only did you have to tell him that you are pregnant, but that your stress and dishonesty have been affecting the baby, too. At this point, you don’t know howhe’ll react.

How could you even say this? ‘Neteyam. I’m pregnant. A baby girl, but she’s at risk because of my careless actions’ or, how about ��I was a piece of shit mate to you for three weeks and have been hiding my pregnancy – denying the existence of our unborn daughter, who is suffering because of it.’

Nothing you came up with was good enough. Nothing sounded right. The more you thought about it, the more it registered how badly you fucked up. Your eyes remain locked on your feet, watching each toe grip the flora beneath you, step after step. You watch as the freckles on your skin glow as the eclipse occurs. You didn’t even realize that you’d been walking aimlessly this entire time. So deep in thought, you veered off the path to your tent.

Finally looking up into the darkness, you see the bioluminescence of the panoprya, anemonids and kentens [flying fan lizard] light up the forest. “Shit.” you mutter, becoming aware of the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Doing a quick 360, it dawns on you.

You’re lost.

“Shit. Shit. How far out am I? I don’t even know where I am.” you think out loud. Without giving it a second thought, you pick a direction and walk. Unbeknownst to you, you were just venturing deeper into the forest. The sounds of the fauna frightened you, keeping you on edge, only making you walk faster, and faster. Before you know it, you’re racing towards a finish line that didn’t exist.

Winded, you stop to catch your breath, leaning against a thick tree trunk. In the distance, you spot a heavily damaged link shack. You had heard of it before, Jake told the story about his final battle with Quaritch at family dinner. But you had never seen it in person. The sight makes you dizzy. Heart thumping violently between your ribs, you press the button on your throat microphone with a shaky hand.

“Ma’ tìyawn [love].” you sniffle.

----

With the eclipse occurring, Neteyam only becomes more and more worried about you. “Ta’sun, where is your sa’nu [mummy]?” he coos quietly, looking down at his sleeping babe in his arms. “I think we should go check on her. What do you think?” he whispers.

With Ta’sun strapped tightly to his chest, he gears up with his bow and arrows and makes the quick journey to Kiri’s tent.

“Kiri!” he whispers with a harsh voice, babe still sleeping nuzzled into his chest. With no response, he calls out again. “Kiri! Y/n!”.

Silence.

Bursting through the door, Neteyam sees Kiri sound asleep. Furrowed brows raise, beaded eyes widen, pursed lips part – a shocked expression contorts his face. His legs take a second to long to respond to his commands to move. But when they do, he bolts towards Kiri, shaking her awake. Practically jumping out of her own skin, she stands in front of her brother, groggy and confused.

“Kiri. Kiri. Where is y/n? She told me she was coming here, to talk to you. Where is she?” he asks frantically, grip tightening on his sister’s upper arm.

“She – she went home! We went to see Mo’at and then she went home. Didn’t she tell you?” Kiri hand snaps to her forehead as she stares blearily at her brother.

Ta’sun stirs against his father’s chest. Neteyam bounces reflexively, hushing his voice to a harsh whisper. “No! Tell me what? Why did you go to see Mo’at? Where is y/n?”

A crackle of static comes through Neteyam’s earpiece.

“Ma’ tìyawn [love].” you sniffle.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat. He hasn’t heard you call him that in weeks. It sounds as if you’re crying, voice hushed, yet harsh. He could hear the whooping and cackling of nocturnal creatures in the background and your heavy breaths.

“Ma’ yawne... Where are you?” he chokes out, unwrapping the prrsmung [carrier] from his chest, signalling with his eyes that Kiri take the baby.

“If I tell you, you’re going to be mad, my ‘teyam.” you murmur.

Kiri takes the baby gently, so not to wake him. Neteyam fixes his bow to his chest, hurrying out of Kiri’s tent. “I won’t be mad. Just tell me, love.” he tries not to sound panicked, as he makes his way towards the forest.

“I – I don’t know.” you squeak, fear evident in your voice. “I think I’m at the old shack... the forbidden one.”

Oh, shit.

“Okay. Okay. Stay there. Do not move, understand? It is forbidden for a reason. I am coming now, just – please.” his own fear shook his voice, too.

“O-okay, my Nete. I... need to tell you s-something.” your breath hitches.

“Tell me when I get there, okay? I’m coming now. Just stay there.” he hums, trying to calm you down. By the way you were speaking it sounded as if you were trying to mutter your last words to him, and that terrified him.

“No, i-it can’t wait. It’s important. I don’t even know how to stay it, Nete. I’m just so sorry. I really am. I love you, so much. And I miss you. I miss Ta’sun.” you blabber, tears freely flowing down your cheeks.

“Y/n. Please. You are scaring me now. What is going on?” his voice bounces as he weaves through the panoprya and jutting tree branches. He has not heard you speak like this in weeks.

“I need to tell you... the truth. All of it. I’m pr – ” a sudden gasp, then static.

“Y/n? Y/n?” he repeats, thuds becoming louder as his heels strike the ground harder – faster. “y/n?!”

---- [repetition of words incoming]

The eclipse is in full bloom, only the bioluminescence around you can be seen – leaving you with few senses to rely on. Ethereal sounds of the forest echo in your ears, the scaly bark of the tree scrapes the skin on your back, wafting the scent of your own blood by your nose. A terrible feeling wrings your gut, making you queasy. Or perhaps that was the budding babe in your womb. It’s an eerie feeling – right dead in the pit of your stomach. It frightens you... terrifies you. It feels as if...

...someone is watching you.

You huddle further into the tree, closing your eyes to concentrate on your mates’ voice. “Okay. Okay. Stay there. Do not move, understand? It is forbidden for a reason. I am coming now, just – please.” Neteyam’s shaky voice comes through your earpiece.

Snap. No other than the sound of a twig breaking in two. How cliché.

You squeeze your eyes tighter, hoping that if you don’t look, it’ll go away. A hand flies to your mouth – your poor attempt at keeping the sounds of your heavy breaths to a minimum. The last time you were this petrified was when Auzo assaulted you in broad day light. What if that day repeats? What if something... someone, is watching you?

You had to tell him, now.

“O-okay, my Nete. I... need to tell you s-something.” you whisper into your hand, breath hitching.

“Tell me when I get there, okay? I’m coming now. Just stay there.” he tries to soothe his shaky voice.

Your eyes fly open to the rustle of the lush foliage above you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want to go home to my mate. To Ta’sun. You let go a breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

“No, i-it can’t wait. It’s important. I don’t even know how to stay it, Nete. I’m just so sorry. I really am. I love you, so much. And I miss you. I miss Ta’sun.” you blabber out a little too loudly, tears stinging your face.

“Y/n. Please. You are scaring me now. What is going on?” his bouncing voice is panic-stricken.

The rustling intensifies.

You gulp down a wad of spit. The hand covering your mouth trembles, droplets of tears falling on its luminescent freckles. “I need to tell you... the truth. All of it. I’m pr – ”

You gasp suddenly, hitting the floor with a thud. Something – someone is on top of you, pinning you face down. The earpiece falls out your ear, cutting off Neteyam shouting your name. It all happens so quick. In a moment, he has your hands tied behind your back, and a knife to your throat.

“Up.” A chilling voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Now!” he booms, jerking you up by the base of your queue. A deafening whimper parts your lips as you stand on the tips of your toes, trying your best to make space between your jugular and the knife’s blade.

He looks quickly at your fingers, counting ten in total. “Colonel. It’s Zhang. We got a half-breed. Site 26. Over.” he pages Quaritch.

Zhang? Colonel? As in... Colonel Quaritch?

Your belly ached at the words, twisting, and turning into a tight knot. Heart thumping violently against your ribs, your hold your breath, afraid of the blade a millimetre away from your throat.

“You’re coming with us, buttercup. Care to explain how you got ten fingers?” he snarls, pressing himself against you.

“’m not your fucking buttercup.” you squeeze out of clenched teeth, surprised by your own words.

Zhang chuckles deeply, tightening his grip on your queue, earning a high-pitched squeal from you. “Got a lil’ fight in ya’. Sit still, pretty. We got ways to make ya’ talk.”

“Two clicks out. Over.” a faint voice comes through his earpiece.

The magnitude of the situation quickly dawns on you. If you didn’t do something – if you didn’t get out now, you’d be kidnapped and tortured. An image of Ta’sun crying for his sa’nu [mama] in Neteyam’s arms flashes before you, igniting a roaring flame in your heart – incinerating the heaviness in it. Dagger pressed firmly to your throat, hand gripping your queue, binds on your wrists – the only thing free was your mouth.

----

Neteyam cautiously approaches the prohibited area, old link shack in sight. Hearing your high-pitched squeal, he quickly camouflages himself in the tall flora. Peeking through the slivers of the leaves, he catches the sight of what seems to be a Na’vi male pressing against you, holding a knife to your throat. He inhales sharply, blood bubbling under his skin, lips curling over his teeth.

Repositioning his stance, he loads his bow in an instant, ready to make his first kill. Hot air huffing through his nostrils, fury blurs his vision. He holds his breath, attempting to still his shaky hand as he pulls the fatal arrow back against his cheek. Heart galloping like a direhorse, he exhales slowly, aiming the pointed arrowhead at his prey.

“I have a baby... at home waiting for me... he’s – he’s almost five months old.” you speak slowly as tears stream down your face. Neteyam’s ears perk up at the sound of your small voice.

“Shut it, buttercup.” Zhang snaps at you, leaving a warning on your throat.

“He... needs his mama.” you choke out between hitched breaths, tears mixing with the blood trickling down your chest. Neteyam grimaces at your words, struggling to get a clear shot.

“Shut it!” He shouts, twisting the base of your queue.

“Mmmn!” you muffle out a cry, body tensing – eyes squeezing shut. “Please.” you breathe.

“Fuck!” Zhang yells angrily, spinning you around to face his towering frame. “Didn’t I tell you to fucking shut it?” he yanks your head back, positioning the tip of his dagger to your jugular.

You could tell from the look in his eyes that your words were getting to him, triggering him. It was as if he didn’t want to hear that you were a real person, with a life, a family – a baby in your belly. Not only did you have a baby at home, but you had one here with you, inside your womb. Your heart skips a beat as you prepare yourself to utter the words – to face the truth.

“I’m pregnant.” you mouth, words catching in your throat. Top lip twitching from rage, he withdraws his dagger, ready to make the lethal cut. “No. No! I’m pregnant! P-please.” you cry out, words dislodging abruptly – loudly. Your words echo in your ears, fuelling the menacing fire in your heart to incinerate whatever denial or doubt you had remaining.

Neteyam’s heart throbs in his chest, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him. His eyes widen, his focus becoming clear and sharp. His mate needs him – his mate who carries his unborn. Zhang’s grip loosens ever so slightly, predatory leer softening for a millisecond, providing Neteyam with a clear shot.

His releases his arrow of death, bowstring snapping against his forearm, impaling his prey through his back. You witness his body jolt, eyes dilate and constrict before they dim completely. His lifeless body slumps to the ground, arrow protruding out of his back as blood pools at your feet. Your eyes snap up, to see Neteyam’s wide stance, chest heaving violently from making his first kill. Your eyes lock with his, riddled with worry and anger.

“Neteyam!” you sob loudly, watching him bolt towards you.

“Did he touch you?!” he raises his voice, gripping your arms to move you back to examine your condition.

“N-no!” you stutter, in absolute shock.

Pulling you into his arms, he holds you tightly, one hand on the back of your head and the other fiddling with the tie on your wrists. “Mawey. Mawey [calm]. I am here. You’re safe.” he pants shakily, adrenaline still coursing viciously through his veins. “You’re safe.” he repeats breathily, finally freeing you from your restraints.

He steps back, eyes trailing your body thoroughly, narrowing slightly as they pass the wound on your throat. They make their way down your chest, watching at the red beads of blood and tears drip down your stomach. His gaze lingers at your abdomen, taking in the sight of the small bump left by Ta’sun – now filled by his unborn. Eyes snapping back up to yours, he swallows thickly.

“Is it true? Are you pregnant?” he asks breathlessly, a hand slipping from your arm to rest on your womb.

You nod weakly, tears welling up in your eyes once more. “Yes, Nete.” you catch your breath. “I am. I’m pregnant. I’m s-so sorry.” You bawl, salty tears stinging the wound on your neck.

Tears threaten to fall from his glossy eyes as he smiles wobbly, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re pregnant. Oh, ma’ yawne, you are pregnant.” he breathes, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I – I didn’t know my heat would come. I understand why you’re upset, that you’re not ready for another. I’m so sorry, Nete. I should’ve known, and I – I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, so terrible to you. And Mo’at says she is stressed, all because of me, and-” you sob hysterically, Neteyam cutting you off to embrace you closely.

“She? A girl?” he asks quickly, pulling you closer into his chest. “We’re having a baby girl?” his tears overflow, rolling down his cheeks.

You nod into his chest, sobbing loudly. He shushes you, swaying you from side to side, rubbing the dip of your back. “Shh, my love. You have made me the happiest man alive, bringing life to our family once more. Do not fret, ma’ yawne. It is going to be okay. She will be okay.” He hums, planting a kiss on your head.

The whirring of a kunsip [scorpion gunship/helicopter] can be heard in the distance, throwing Neteyam back into the thick of his protective urges. “Come. Come. We must go. Quickly.” he whispers, grabbing your hand and running through the forest back to hometree.

----

Neteyam barges into his sleeping grandmother’s tent, rousing her out of her sleep. “Grandmother!”

The elder sits up groggily, used to her sleep being disturbed as Tsahik. “What is it, Neteyam?” she croaks.

“It is y/n. Please, check her.” he huffs, out of breath from the trek. He ended up carrying you back home half way, not wanting the baby to be under any more stress.

“Put me down, my Nete. Grandmother, I’m fine really, it is just a scratch.” you reassure the elder.

“What happened, my child? How did you get such a wound?” she goes for her concoction of herbs, smearing it over the deep cut. Neteyam explains briefly, as Mo’at makes her way around to your back, placing her cold palm flush against your spine.

“Baby is strong.” She hums, a surprised expression washing over her face. “What have you done since I last saw you?”

You smile weakly, glancing at Neteyam. He takes his hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “I told my mate.”

Mo’at’s eyes flicker between the two of you, her puzzled expression relaxing into one of happiness. “I see.” she states, corners of her lips curling upwards. “Everything is good. Get dome rest. Both of you.”

“Thank you, grandmother.” you shoot her a smile, thankful for her help. Neteyam sweeps three fingers from his forehead, also thanking his grandmother.

He turns to you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Kiri has Ta’sun. Shall we go?”

You nod hastily, a smile plastered on your face. Oh, how you longed to see your son after such an ordeal.

Arriving at Kiri’s tent, Neteyam quietly enters to see Kiri pacing back and forth. “Neteyam! Y/n!” she whispers loudly. She sees your banged up condition, scanning your body frantically. She hugs you tightly, full of guilt for not walking you home. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I should have taken you home.” she pulls away from the hug. “Are you okay? What happened?”.

You explain the night’s events to Kiri, letting her know that it wasn’t her fault and she shouldn’t be sorry.

“I’m just glad you’re okay now. My brother does a good job at protecting you. Doesn’t he?” Kiri shoots a smile at her brother before glancing back to you. “I’m also happy to hear your baby is doing better. Speaking of, Ta’sun is fast asleep.” Kiri gestures to the sleeping babe in her cot. “Just got him down, too. So I hope you’re not thinking of taking my prrnen [baby] from me.” She smiles, knowing you two could use a good nights rest.

Neteyam and you share a quick glance, wondering if you should take her up on her offer.

“Go. You guys need the rest, look at you both.” she giggles quietly, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Kiri” you whisper, nose scrunching the wider your smile grows.

“Sister.” Neteyam smirks, thanking her silently with his eyes. You both walk out of Kiri’s tent towards yours, hand in hand.

----

Neteyam holds your hand tightly, relishing in the first form of intimacy he’s had from you in weeks. He’s careful not to take it any further than that, not wanting to pressure you into doing something you weren’t ready for. He’d wait on you for as long as you need him to. Anything for his beloved.

“My love. You must be exhausted.” he hums, opening the door of your tent, helping you step under the flap. “Let us get you into bed, yes?” He coos, as if you were Ta’sun that he were putting to sleep. He walks you over to the cot, trying to get you to lay down.

“Neteyam.” You whisper, fighting his gentle pushes to stay on your feet.

He stops, turning his head and quickly untwining his fingers from yours to take a step back, thinking he’s upset you again.

“Ma’ teyam.” you whisper once more, two fingers brushing the underside of his chin to have him face you.

His head follows the soft tug of your digits, glossy amber eyes staring deeply into yours. Wetting your bottom lip with a quick swipe of your tongue, you lessen the space between your bodies, dropping your gaze down to his lips. He stays still, body rigid, jaw clenched as he returns his gaze to your glistening lips. His stomach flutters as he watches you tilt your chin upwards, eyelids growing heavy.

Brushing your top lip against his, you linger there, open-mouthed, sharing the same breath. He closes his eyes, savouring your closeness, your warmth. Breaths turn raggedy as the tension buds in your chests. Your eyes close, hand smoothing over his jaw, up the nape of his neck. You pull him closer, noses brushing against one another, foreheads pressing firmly together.

“Kiss me” you pant.

His lips softly press against yours, lingering for a second too long to take in your silken skin. He pulls away, catching his breath. Your eyes pop open, gaze now boring into his half-lidded eyes, searching them for an answer.

“Kiss me.” you breathe needily, fingers interlacing with the braids at the back of his head.

Chest heaving against yours, his lustful eyes explore yours for a moment before dropping down to your flushed lips. He swallows thickly, crashing his lips into yours once more, eager for your touch – your love. Kisses so rough, so hungry that they bruise yours. Being starved for so long he has his fill greedily, crushing the suppleness of your lips with his, gently nipping at your skin.

He pulls away to catch his breath before diving back in with his tongue. His hands quickly move up to your cheeks, cupping them firmly, pulling you into his needy kisses as if you could even get any closer. He breaks the kiss, panting raggedy breaths into your open mouth, snapping his eyes open to look deeply into yours once more.

“I missed you” he pants quickly, before his tongue briefly swipes your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. You reciprocate the hunger as the ache in your lungs worsen from the words you inhaled. Your tongues roll over one another, tasting the desperation pooling in each other’s cheeks. Eager hands explore his body, brushing over his pulsing neck down to his hot chest, swiping around to his broad back as they tickle their way down to the band of his loincloth.

“’m sorry, ma’ muntxatan [husband].” you breathe into his mouth, slipping your trembling fingers under the purple cloth, only for a hand to stop you. He pulls away once more.

“ma’ muntxate [wife].” he whispers, forehead pushing into yours, “I’m sorry. I have left you alone in this.” he brings your hand to your belly, cupping it with his. “I have made you feel like you cannot be honest with me... Like I would be... upset, about you carrying my child. I am so sorry.” he grimaces, choking back his tears as he places another hand on your stomach. “You are my most cherished... most prized possession. Everything you do brings light to my life. A sense of purpose.” he blubbers, teardrops crashing onto his cheeks. “I-I love you, ma’ txe’lan”

“Oh, Nete.” you squeeze out a closing throat, “I love you, my sweet Nete. I have been so cold.” you cry quietly, untwining your fingers from his hair to gently caress his queue. “I have denied you of my love... my touch.” your hand strokes the length of his queue, bringing it over his shoulder – making his tail wrap around your waist.

“I have lied to you.” you squeak, not wanting to say the words. “I do not deserve you.” you weep quietly.

“Shh. Shh, my love.” he hums low in his chest, meeting the softness of your lips once again. A hand leaves your stomach, sliding up your back to gently graze your queue. “I want you. I need you.” a soft, needy moan parts your lips, “Please” he brings your queue over your shoulder, silently asking for tsaheylu.

You nod hastily, smiling so hard that your front teeth click harshly against his. You both look down, witnessing your tendrils dance excitedly with one another before melting together to become one. A gasp catches in both your throats as your breath syncs together. You snap your gaze up to witness his pupils blackening his eyes, leaving nothing but a thin amber ring.

“I see you.” you gasp in unison, rubbing your faces against one another.

Sore lips crash into each other, desperate for an even deeper connection. Muddled thoughts race through your minds, as you try to express your immense adoration and love you have for one another. He hurriedly lowers you onto the cot, moving his feverish kisses down your throat, being careful not to graze your wound. Little, sweet moans escape your open mouth, head sinking back into the cushiony bedding as he settles between your legs. Wet kisses leave a trail of saliva down to your chest, where he takes your stiff nipple into his warm mouth, suckling gently. Your soft moans quickly morph into whimpers, thighs rubbing together to satiate the budding heat of your sex.

“Neteyam!” you whine lowly, hand snaking up his back to grip his hair once more.

He pops off your breast, staring up at you with love in his eyes. “Call me your tìyawn” he mumbles, kissing the dip between your breasts, making his way down to your stomach.

“Ma’ tìyawn...” you moan breathily, screwing your eyes shut at the sensation of his tongue trailing down your stomach.

“Yes? oeyä sevin [my pretty] ... mother of my children” he hums, planting wet kisses on your lower stomach.

“Ma’ tìyawn! I... I miss – Oh!” you gasp, eyes flying open as you feel his kisses move quickly to the soddened cloth covering the soft flesh between your glossy thighs.

“I miss you, too.” he mumbles through a smile before untying the flimsy knot on your loincloth with his teeth. He stares longingly at your plump, glistening slit, only glancing up at you briefly to make sure you’re okay with what he’s doing. “Can I?” he asks, breath hitching from his pounding heart. Another hasty nod grants him permission.

Wasting not another second, he presses his nose between your folds, taking in a deep breath to savour the scent of your arousal. He forgot how good you smelled pregnant. It only riles him up more, his fingers digging into your thighs to pin them to the bed. He opens his mouth, wide, and laps up your sweet nectar dipping slowly from your opening, all the way up to the sensitive nub at the top of your cunt. His single swipe of his tongue makes your body jolt, a hand fly to his head to shove him closer. Thighs trying to break free of their restraints, you look down to see his half-lidded eyes full of lust staring up at you intently as the flat of his tongue plays with your clit.

You taste so good pregnant, y/n. His words echo in your mind as he holds eye contact with you. Cum in my mouth, let me taste more of you.

Your little mewls weren’t so little anymore, they morph into loud, wanton, drawn out moans. The heat pooling in your chest trickles down your spine into your already-full womb, making your legs shake even more.

“Teyam! Oh - Ugh! Please, teyam!” you beg loudly, for what - you’re not sure.

He gives it to you though, knowing exactly what to do to tip you over the edge. Two digits prod at your sopping entrance, wiggling around to burrow their way into your heat. Your moans lodge in your throat once his lengthy fingers bottom out in your cunt, and they dislodge once his fingers furl into your sweet spot. Head snapping forward, an arm propping up your torso, you spread your legs as wide as they can go and push your pelvis harder into his relentless licks.

That’s it, mama. Cum for daddy. He thinks loudly, his own hips snapping to grind his painfully hard cock into the foot of the cot.

“Ugh! Oh f-fuck! Yesyesyesyes!” you release silent cries, violently humping his face as you chase your climax.

The bond makes it so that he feels it too, that heat pooling deep in your pelvis... that hot coil ready to snap into two. His hips grind harder into the cot, desperate to find relief for his aching, throbbing cock. He can’t help but grunt into your pussy, feeling his own coil about to snap.

“m’ gonna – m’ gonna fucking cum! I – Oh! I’m cumming – cumming!” you cry out, head dipping back as you give his face two forceful thrusts, pussy walls fluttering wildly around his fingers. He yanks them out in a hurry, cupping your quivering hole with his mouth to get his fill of your thick, sweetened nectar.

“Mm – mhmm” He lets loose throaty, broken groans into your cunt, a quick pause for every gulp of your cum he swallows. His cock only grinds harder against the cot as he feels the warmth of your cum trickle down his throat. He pulls away with a *pwah*, gasping for air. Quickly sucking his fingers dry, he crawls towards you.

“Fuck. I missed having my fill of you when you’re pregnant.” he moans breathily, smoothing his palm over your belly as he lines his jumping, veiny cock with your slit.

The words make your already flushed cheeks heat up even more, ridding any remanence of doubt you had left in your heart. “Please, ma’ yawnetu [love].” your lungs tremble.

“Tell me, mama. Tell me what you need.” he moans breathily, rubbing his already-wet cockhead between your plump folds, beads of precum oozing onto your throbbing clit.

“Mmm – I need you... h-here” you pant, shoving your hand between your sticky pelvises to shift his tip to your entrance.

“Yeah?” he smiles, crouching over you to pant hot breaths into the shell of your ear. “And then what?” he whispers shakily into your ear, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

“And then this.” you utter under a whisper, wrapping your wobbly legs around his hips, sinking him slowly inside of you. A quick hand tilts your chin to meet your chest, making you watch as his your heat swallows his cock, inch by inch. The deeper he goes, the louder your strained whines grow.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” he hums, watching himself bottom out in your pussy.

“I love you.” It slips out, just as his tip presses against your cervix. His eyes snap back up to meet yours, to see they’ve glossed over with tears.

“I love you.” he utters breathily, kissing you gently as he sets a languid pace with his hips.

He’s already so, so close, all from a few slow thrusts. Your walls clamp around him, still recovering from the orgasm that rippled through your entire being. Feeling your intense arousal through tsaheylu only amplified his, sending his hips into a frenzy – spasming slow and deep inside of your pussy. The bump of his throbbing cockhead brushes repeatedly against your sweet spot, the sensation pulsing through your queue only makes him rut into it even more. He unwraps your leg from his waist, hoisting it up over his shoulder, and leans into you so deep that your knee presses against your cheek.

“Ah! Ngh... t-teyam” you yelp out, his pelvis so flush against yours that his pelvic bone grinds against your clit.

“Too deep?” he groans, pulling out of you slightly.

“No, no. It’s so good... ‘s so good” you mumble as you wrap your arms around his neck and focus on the immense pleasure radiating through your entire body.

“Good.” he breathes, lazily thrusting into you, massaging your sweet spot with the swollen tip of his cock. “Ma’ yawnetu. You feel so good.” he bites back a moan, trying his best to restrain himself from being too rough with you.

“Do it, tìyawn.” you moan, feeling his resistance through tsaheylu. “Fuck me. Faster... Harder, please.” you breath into his mouth, tightening the leg that’s wrapped around him.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, or the baby.” he grunts, burying his face into the nook of your neck.

“Shh... do it, my teyam. I want it. I want you. I need you. I love you.” you blubber out, rutting your hips into his, chasing the feeling budding in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh – oh fuck, y/n.” he groans, looking down at you buck your hips into him.

“Please!” you cry out, feeling the swell of your sweet spot again.

He gives into his mate’s wishes, picking up the speed of his hips, working sweet squelching noises out of your cunt with his fast, insistent strokes. Your quiet, hoarse moans pierce his eardrums, the more he pounds into you, his heavy, swollen balls slapping noisily against the curve of your bottom.

“Oh – oh y/n. You... ngh, you’re so fucking wet. I – I’m gonna – hgnh- ” he grunts lowly into your neck before lifting his head up to look into your eyes. His open mouth brushes against yours, panting in and out your shared air.

“M-me too, my teyam. Faster! Faster!” you huff loudly into his mouth, tears trickling down your cheeks as the knot in your stomach quickly unravels. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, begging to release it’s essence inside of your hot cunt. “Cum i-inside me.” you pant into his mouth, wanting your cunt and his cock to flutter at the same time.

“Mmn. Fuck!” he growls deeply, forcing your leg further back against your face.

“Holy fuck! Cumming!” you squeal, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your cries of pleasure.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh –” a guttural, loud groan evades his throat as he dips his head back from the sensation of your fluttering pussy walls and the sting of your bite. He gives you two, hard thrusts – his spasming cock emptying its heavy, thick load inside your cunt. He pulls out of you quickly, resting his hung, twitching cock on your thigh as he rocks into it, riding out the last lap of his high.

“I love you, Neteyam.” the trembling words slip out once more, before you close your heavy lidded eyes.

“I love you, y/n.” he coos, nuzzling into your neck to cherish the moment.

Tags:@jakexneytiri @sweethoneycn @deadgirl02 @keijis-wifey @pandorxx @swiftielivvie @teyamfangirl @avatar-lover @sooebear @vanillawhale @bxnnywriting @athenachu @trashboat-the-raccoon @avaixe @qweq-6802 @rodeosayu @girlpostingsposts @erinloversworld @agelsully @zetey @raaaaainn @eywascall @yawneneteyam @weirdomcu @pandxrastars @eichenhouseproperty @camgod78 @kibiscribbles @bedofpearls @kurtsworld096 @audrinawf @otukirey @deexdeez @c78r @bby-bo @neteyamsmate4life @wheniseeyouigogonutz @sullymenrhot @jakescumdump @erenjaegerwifee @eywaheardyou @saturnheartz @lovekeeho @afro-hispwriter @lovemyavatar @rainbowsocks @eddiesluvt @etherialblackrose @sleepilysworld @fezandashgirlfriend @kahlowy @babyymeme @lovekeeho @ilove444sworld @kaixiio @becksimagination @ameliestsblog @theycallmesia @boooogieman @fanboyluvr @boohoobaby @that-one-lightskin @st-cass @jakesully-sbabygirl @urfavgirlmakenna @zaddyskye69 @iikatsukii @netemoon @lu-the-ghost-reader

THIS IS FUCKING GIF I MADE IT SUCKS WHY IS IT SO FUCKING SMALL HELP ME

creds to my baby bubble anon for the gif ilysm

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ghosts-bandwagon · 11 months

Text

TF141 + König help you move

Here’s some backstory (bc this is incredibly self-indulgent send help): you take everything upon yourself, plan everything down to the last detail so you just wind up overwhelming yourself and then you’re just running on fumes the entire time, you are not at peace until you’ve moved into the new place, you are a ball of stress aaaand go:

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s very much the type to watch you go, he knows you’re overloading yourself and he wants to step in but he also knows you need to learn how to ask for help

That’s not to say he’s completely hands off, he’s listening to every word when you review your checklist, he’s helping you pack- everything from assembling the boxes to sealing them when they’re full

He’s taken it upon himself to make sure you eat a proper meal

“What’s this?” You ask as you mute your phone while on hold with the utilities company for your new place,

“It’s breakfast. Eat.”

“I already-”

“Iced coffee isn’t food, love.”

Bet

So he’ll take to cooking or grabbing your favorite take out

If you’re worried you forget something, he’ll go down the list with you, going so far as to grab your notebook and review it with you

He encourages you to sort through your belongings and figure out what you want to keep and what you want to give away

His rule: if I haven’t seen you use it, wear it, read it, or touch it in the last six months, it’s going in the giveaway box (save for stuff with sentimental value)

Surprisingly enough, it helps reduce how much you have to pack and you couldn’t be more thankful

All in all, 10/10

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s so much fun to be around

He knows you’re taking on too much and he’ll tell you as much

“I’m fine, Johnny, I just like these things done a certain way. And when the order gets messed up, I have a panic attack.”

“Well, then explain how you’d like it done, and I’ll see to it that it stays that way, sound good?”

He’s so understanding god bless

He does everything possible to make the process stress free, from putting on music while you’re packing and cleaning, to being in charge of snacks

He helps divide the labor very seamlessly, he does all the physical stuff (packing, cleaning, moving furniture, etc) and he leaves the logistics to you, (utilities, new apt, address change, etc)

If at any point you feel like it’s still too much, he’ll jump in without hesitation

Just tell him where you’re struggling and what your next task is and he’ll gladly take over

You point, he’ll shoot (or pack, in this case)

John Price:

Like??

Good luck trying to take control of the whole thing

He’s way ahead of you and doesn’t let you do a single thing on your own, that’s not true, he’ll let you do things on your own but not all of it, you get the idea

Man’s a Captain for god’s sake, he definitely has a system to make the process easier

He makes sure you start the process sooner rather than later to avoid scrambling last minute

Before even buying boxes, he’ll sit down with you to come up with a checklist for things to do and what order to pack your place in

He’s very encouraging throughout the whole process

“Phew, almost an hour later and I was successfully able to transfer my car insurance.” You sighed slumping against the table, practically throwing your phone to the other side of the room

“You’re doin’ great, love, keep it up.” He comes up behind you to rub your shoulders and rub your back encouragingly

He’s with you every step of the way

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

I love him but I can see it as being kind of chaotic lmao but still fun!

You better believe he’s got Animal Crossing music on loop

He claims it’ll help you get into the cleaning/packing frame of mind and son of a bitch he’s right

He sets a hard limit of one to two things a day, so if you finished packing up your living room sooner than you expected and now you want to move on to your bedroom, too damn bad

He’ll physically stop you lol

“You already did enough, babe, it’s time to rest.”

“I feel fine, Ky, I can keep going.”

“Trust me darlin’, take it easy, you’re doing great.”

Definitely the type to give you a treat to help keep you motivated, or even start your day with a treat

You’re dreading calling the new internet company to set up your new wifi? Well guess what? He’s treating you to coffee and a cinnamon roll from your favorite cafe to help motivate you

You’re dead tired after packing up all your belongings in your room, dinner is your pick babe, whatever you want, yes, Taco Bell is perfectly ok

König:

Very good at following directions and equally good at being perceptive and knowing when to step in without being asked

He knows you have a habit of taking on more than you can handle but he also knows your tells just as well

Increased irritability, you’re more tired than usual, you’re not eating as much, drinking more coffee than you normally do, jittery leg, trouble sleeping, he knows you babe, he sees you

So he does everything he can to prevent you from getting to that point

If you’re complaining about packing all your books, don’t worry about it, he’s on it

You’re stressed about cleaning as you pack, no need, he’s already coming behind you with Clorox wipes, a broom, and a swiffer mop

He encourages you to offload some of your tasks to him, insisting that he knows how you want it done and can do it accordingly

“Schatz, you have so much on your plate already, let me handle renting the truck and getting the supplies, we’ll go over what you want to do first, and I’ll help you do it, ok?”

At the end of the night when your limbs ache from exhaustion, he gently taking your hands in his and massaging the tension away, placing little kisses as he goes

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii

1K notes · View notes

astraariel · 7 months

Text

scarlett love

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: you forgot him, chose to let Sanji go, but was that enough? would the universe leave you alone and let you live in peace?

word count: 4.1K

warnings: cursing; spoilers (?) just mention of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: angst; fluff; hanahaki disease; modern!au; reconciliation; second chances; unrequited turned requited; slight self-hate; happy endings

author’s note: okkkkay here it is. so many of you guys asked for it so here’s pt 2 to eternal snow! I initially wanted to post the mihawk fic first that i'm working on but I can’t finish writing it for the life of me so I decided to work on this one instead lol.

like I mentioned before, this is part 2 to this fic so obvi read that before you read this one!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

They say people who have the surgery are doomed for life.

How could they choose to never love again; how could they deliberately go through with the surgery knowing they would never have those emotions again?

But in actuality, it was the choice of forgetting about that love.

People don’t know the grievances and the strength it takes to choose to forget the love of your life. They don’t know the despair of being in love with someone wholeheartedly knowing they don’t love you back.

That you would never remember those emotions for whom you loved.

You saw it as this: if you couldn’t live to love your person, you wouldn’t bear to love at all.

So in that way, you won.

You gained the power to no longer grieve for your love because you simply couldn’t remember him.

Since hanahaki disease was rare, there weren’t too many recovery patients to base knowledge on since many of the victims chose to die rather than to be saved.

So you were honestly going in blind.

Nami would sometimes ask you if you could remember anything, a nervous look on her face, you knew she remembered your past love, but the doctor had told her to not mention anything to you in your recovery period. You think she asked out of curiosity.

Or maybe fear?

But every time you’d just tell her that you couldn’t, your head would hurt if you thought too hard and too long about who you had lost.

If you could remember specific memories, they weren't fully visualized, they were static, like when an old TV was out of range from the signal and would struggle to picture the channel.

All you could remember was his silhouette, his figure blurry and his name was always on the tip of your tongue but you could never place your finger on it.

You remember during your first check-up, the doctor had asked you if you could describe your past love,

“I'm not sure.”

Your voice had been wobbly like you were on the verge of crying. Tears had pricked your eyes, along with the feeling of not being able to breathe even though those damn flowers were gone.

Not being able to understand why?

That feeling went away a week later.

You laugh at yourself now, chiding yourself for being ridiculous back then.

At what point could you have allowed yourself to be so deeply in love with someone that it was killing you? You could never understand.

It was an absurd, abysmal idea that you had ever gotten to that point.

While the doctor said the following months would be difficult getting used to your new life of having one less emotion, you were fine.

It had helped that Nami had stayed by your side, and when she couldn’t Sanji would.

Sanji was an angel.

He tended to your every need, always made sure you didn’t lift a finger even after you told him multiple times you could do it yourself.

But he always reassured you he didn’t mind.

You were sad to hear that he stopped seeing Pudding. It was honestly too bad because she was good for him, he deserves someone who can love and care for him just as much as he cares for others.

Nevertheless, you were glad he was here for you.

The sound of music playing softly in the background comforts you as you shuffle through your kitchen making dinner.

You and Sanji have recently started having weekly dinners with each other, an idea he came up with.

“We can update each other about our lives, good ole fashion face-to-face interaction.”

“I don’t think my life is going to change too much in the week we don’t see each other, Sanji”

The sound of the door ringing pulls you from your thoughts, drying your hands with a towel, you walk over to the front door.

The cool November breeze greets you as soon as you open the door, Sanji’s figure fills your view.

The coat he’s wearing to protect himself from the wind encapsulates him in a way that makes you smile instinctively, you can see his red ears peeking from under his blond hair.

“Come in, come in, I was just finishing up dinner.”

“Oh, can I help you with anything else?” he offers while shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack beside the front door. “Or are you not allowing me into your kitchen again?” he smirks toward you.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “It’s my turn to make dinner, you cook for a living, it's my time to shine now, dude.” He chuckles and begins to set the table for the two of you.

The warm food fills the plate in your hand, placing it on the counter, you grab another plate. “So, how’s work?”

Sanji grabs both of the plates and brings them to the table, setting them down, he looks back at you. “Ah, the old man’s got me working late most days.”

You smile softly at the scene; since you can remember you and Sanji have been able to work in tandem. Back when Nami first introduced you, it was like a pull connecting the two of you, also guiding and leading the two of you in perfect harmony.

It was nice.

Finishing your dinner, Sanji grabs his cup, “That was delicious, thank you.”

“Well I did have a decent teacher,” you say into the glass smiling, gulping down the liquid you set it back down and look at Sanji.

He goes to say something before he’s interrupted by a cough.

Sanji turns his head and coughs into a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he quickly wipes his mouth before looking back at you, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Shaking your head in acknowledgement you begin cleaning up the dinner table.

“Oh I forgot, I bought flowers, they’re in the living room let me grab them real quick.” Sanji stands quickly.

Turning, you watch him walk away, not catching the lone petal falling out of his pocket.

♡‧₊˚

Vinsmoke Sanji has done a lot of things.

Some of which he regrets, but others he stands by, but there was one that met both criteria.

And that was you.

He was glad he met you, that he was able to spend time being with you, loving you, and knowing that you loved him back.

But he regrets hurting you. He regrets letting himself be temporarily infatuated with Pudding. Sanji had laughed in the face of fate, and in return, he got what he deserved.

His impending end.

The petals had shown up the day you went into the hospital.

While you were given a second chance at life, Sanji had just signed his away.

He remembers the memory of Nami telling him what had happened. He had it permanently seared into his brain, never allowing himself to forget the moment.

Her eyes were red, face hot with anger when she pulled up to his house.

“You absolute idiot.” He hadn’t even fully opened the door before she was swearing at him, cursing him to the ends of the earth over what he had done. “You did this. You caused that pain…if I hadn't found her…,” her hands had started punching his chest.

“She would have been gone, all because of you.”

A part of Sanji died that day.

So when he got the same disease you had, he knew he deserved it.

Wasn’t it only right that he got the same death sentence that almost took you away?

It was slow at first, from what Nami had told him about your situation, Sanji knew this was how it started.

The first few weeks were bearable, he could go about his daily life without causing any suspicion. No one would ask if he was okay or anything, just simply being able to cough into a tissue and discard it quickly.

Then the blossoms came.

After one terrible night of constantly coughing up blood and flower blossoms, Sanji did some research. He knew the full blooms were next along with the finishing blow of the roots. It had only been a month since you had your surgery, and yet his hanahaki was a lot more accelerated in comparison to yours.

A month since he had realized he was deathly in love with you.

But he could bear this burden. Who was he to complain about his death trickling closer than it normally should?

Sanji remembered the moment he realized his disease would finish him more swiftly, that he was faster along than he typically should be; whether it was because the universe knew you could never love him back or it was simply his punishment for what he did.

Probably both.

Even though he knew he could easily fix the problem, he didn't have the right to get a second chance.

How could he?

How long did you spend hiding your condition away, not even when he had broken things off, before then? How long were you hurting because you knew he was lying when he said he loved you?

The gall he would have to have to go through with the surgery?

Absolutely not.

But deep in his heart, he also couldn’t bring himself to forget you. He’d rather be a coward and a liar than choose a life undeserving of him.

He would rather die than forget you, to never be able to love you again would be death itself.

He hated himself for what he did to you. The insolence he had to hurt someone as caring as you, why did he take advantage of that?

He himself every day.

If he had to live with constantly coughing up blood and bending over the toilet puking up flower petals just for you to live your life? Yeah, he could do that. He could live with the pain of knowing that you would never love him back.

That you could never love him back.

It quite literally was in human nature that he would never be saved unless he did the surgery, since you couldn’t even love anyone anymore.

Sanji’s hand lifts his handkerchief up to his mouth, his body heaving with a hard cough of petals.

He sighs.

♡‧₊˚

The TV light shines on both you and Sanji’s forms as the movie comes to an end, the ending credits miniaturizing as the screen recommends a shitty Christmas movie that has the both of you turning to the other.

“That was an unnecessarily long movie.” Sanji’s comment makes you laugh.

“Right? God, it was dragging on for a really long time.” Shaking his head he stands up to place the popcorn bucket on the kitchen counter.

You follow him holding the cups that held lemonade two hours ago. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Yeah, probably, oh wait-I bought something for you, meant to give it to you when we had dinner at your place but I forgot.” Sanji’s voice trails as he goes off to his bedroom.

You stand there for a couple of minutes before checking the time, “Yo, Sanji, did’ya get lost?” laughing to yourself, you walk over into the bedroom. Your eyes immediately meet Sanji’s form hunched over on the ground.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to him. “Sanji, oh god, are you okay what’s wrong-”

You cut yourself off when you bend down to look at him, there you see a pool of blood on the hardwood floor, petals scattered around the scene with a full flower bloom sitting in his hands.

“What?” you can’t breathe.

Sanji says your name but you don’t hear him, your brows knit together as you look up at him. “I don’t understand why are you coughing up petals?”

No? This couldn’t be happening.

Your heart breaks.

Who did Sanji love so dearly that he was cursed with the same disease that had you in its chokehold not long ago?

You would never wish this on anyone, no one deserved to live through the hurt of having unrequited love.

“You weren’t,” he wipes his mouth, “you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“I don’t-why wouldn't you want to tell me? If anything, I’d be the only person able to understand. Sanji, who is it?” your eyes scan his face.

Sanji’s ragged breathing fills the air between the two of you. “I can’t.”

You furrow your brows even more, shaking your head. “Please just tell me so I can help-”

“You can’t.”

“What do you mean, I can’t? You’re not making sense.”

Sanji closes his eyes. “It’s you.”

You stop breathing, the figure in your memory rushes to the forefront of your brain like a tsunami.

In the past the figure was always blurry, never in frame in your mind, only being able to trace his silhouette, but now it was different.

It was like he was right in front of you like you could smell him, feel his hands in yours, his warmth. Feel his lips against your lips when he-

“It was you.” your voice was quiet, “You were the one I loved.”

His eyes snap at yours, a gasp falling from his lips.

“The person I loved so deeply… that it caused me so much pain.”

And there it was, the fog had been lifted.

“How could I have forgotten?” How ironic the entire thing was.

“Why would I ever forget about my love for you, Sanji?” you look at him, “What grief did you cause me?”

A tidal wave of emotions, affections, all poured out of your soul and into your memories. The months of coughing up petal after petal till they turned to full flower blooms. The fear that a root would pop up once you pulled your tissue from your face.

The pain and the hurt that Sanji had caused you.

The pain of knowing that he didn't love you anymore.

It all came rushing back.

“Why would you keep this from me?” you were getting angry, but was it for the right reason?

Hadn’t you done the same with him? Hadn’t you kept it from all the people you loved as well?

“You know why I went through with the surgery? It wasn’t Nami who made me, well not partially, but why I allowed myself to let her drive me to the hospital was because I didn't want you to suffer.” your eyes were burning, the tears threatening to fall.

“I don't understand?” Of course, he wouldn’t.

“You were obviously unhappy, Sanji. If I removed myself from the equation, it would solve everything and at…at first I thought dying was the solution I really did.” your eyes drop, “And maybe Nami finding me was a saving grace but, I originally wasn't gonna do anything.”

“Week after week, Sanji, I was drowning. I wanted to yell at anyone who would listen and ask why I couldn't have anything, why couldn’t I be happy? That the universe had some sort of fucking vendetta against me.”

“So I decided to let you go, to choose to live a life of unknown heartache, and when I finally thought I had accomplished that. The universe just spits in my face by cursing you.”

“Don’t you see it? We don’t belong together, Sanji.” The anger was gone now, all that was left was emptiness.“We have the signs, we need to heed them and move on.”

Sanji says your name with a plea, but you ignore him. “Just get the surgery, stop hurting the both of us.”

“It does us no good if you're dead.” And with that, you walk out of the bedroom and out the front door.

♡‧₊˚

The quiet murmurs of the newscaster talking about the weather for the week could barely be heard from the running water you were using to wash the dishes.

You haven't seen Sanji in a couple of weeks, not since he announced that you were the one whom he was in love with.

And definitely not since you remembered he was the one whom you had loved before.

And while at first, you were angry. Angry at him for lying and keeping such vital information from you.

It later turned to guilt.

Guilt for getting angry at him. Guilt for causing him pain.

But it wasn’t your fault, it’s not like you chose not to love him, you physically couldn’t anymore. You signed that ability off months ago.

But you also missed him. Since you weren’t talking to him, you weren’t having your weekly dinners or your impromptu movie nights anymore.

You missed just talking to him. You missed the lame jokes he’d tell in hopes of hearing your laugh, that smile he’d get whenever he spoke about a new recipe.

You missed him.

But you were also confused.

After he had revealed that he loved you and you had remembered that your past love was him, it became too much for you to handle.

Glancing at the moon, you dry your hands on a towel and walk into the living room. The weatherman was currently informing you of a chance of rain tomorrow during the already cold late January weather.

Sighing you go to sit down before something catches your eyes. A picture frame that hangs on your wall glints as you walk toward it.

It was a photo of you and Sanji looking at the camera with wide smiles on display from Sanji’s birthday two years prior. On top of your heads sat a birthday hat colored blue for the sea theme your friends had thrown together as a joke for the blonde that year.

You remember how you felt that day, the anxiety of wanting to get Sanji the perfect gift and when he finally opened it, he had hugged you which had you blushing like crazy while you swatted his “thank yous” away.

God, where did this deja vu come from?

It was weird, you weren't sure what it was.

It felt like your entire being was full. Full of intense and overwhelming emotions, an emotion you shouldn't feel. An emotion that was eradicated from your life when you stepped out of that hospital.

But here it was, rearing its big ugly face once again.

For Sanji.

You stumble back as if you had been shocked with electricity.

Looking around your apartment you close your eyes.

How could this happen? Why were you still being punished again?

You had endured the pain, chose to get rid of it and now you’ve been having to live with knowing that Sanji also was experiencing the exact same pain.

Sanji.

How could you have been so cold? Telling him to do the surgery? What was wrong with you?

You missed him. You missed your love for him. The feelings you’d get when he’d look your way. Sanji was your ambrosia and you needed him to survive.

But you didn’t miss how you felt when he chose another over you. Those feelings you wished you hadn’t remembered.

You weren't sure how you were still able to feel Sanji's love. But here you were.

An anomaly that you were.

Guess that shows how deep your love truly was rooted.

How could you have allowed yourself to forget?

The drive to Sanji’s apartment was quiet, opting to not play music or turn the radio on so that you could think clearly with your new (re) developed emotions.

Pulling up to the driveway, you step out of your car. The jacket you have on trapping your heat from the cold winds of the night.

The few steps to the front door felt like a lifetime. The moonlight provided a little comfort to your restless self.

Exhaling, you bring your hand to knock at the door, a small part of you hoping Sanji wasn’t home so you could go home and pretend like nothing happened.

The door swings open revealing Sanji. His eyes were wide like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey…can I come in?” you look up at him expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah come in.” Sending him a quick smile you walk past him and into the living room.

He shuts the door and faces you, you turn and finally get a good look at him in the light.

He looked worse for wear, his eyes had bags under them, a sign he hadn’t been sleeping if at all. Whether that was because of your argument or his condition, you didn't know. One hand was in his pocket and the other was fiddling with his handkerchief.

“How are you…” signaling your hand at him, “I mean physically, how are you? What stage?”

He looks away, “well…I’m still living,” he chuckles quietly.

You sigh.

God the two of you were truly messed up.

“It all came back.”

“What?” he questions.

Your eyes begin to glaze over, “My memories, everything.” you wet your lips, “All of it, Sanji.”

“It just-all came back…on top of our argument, of you telling me you loved me.” Tears fell down your cheeks. “Of how I felt when you were-when you were with Pudding.”

He says your name.

“And I hated it, I hated remembering how I felt, Sanji. I remember pitying myself, wondering what I had done wrong, why you hadn’t loved me anymore,” he says your name again, “but I also remembered how I felt loving you.” you look up at him with your tear-streaked face.

“And I will never regret loving you, not then, definitely not now. I also don’t regret forgetting, because I understand why I did it. I loved you enough to be able to let you go. To be able to know you’ll live your life happily, whether that’s with me or someone else. I didn’t care. Just that you were happy.”

“But I wasn’t-”

You cut him off, “I knew you didn't love me how I loved you, but I still knew you cared. So if I had died, even from death, I would have hated myself for hurting you. So I chose to forget.” you wipe your cheek, “I just wish you had never gotten that godforsaken thing as well.”

“Sanji I…I love you wholeheartedly. You encompass my entire existence. I live for you. Even now, when I didn't remember how I felt for you. It was there. My love for you was still inside. And it always will be. I think even if you hadn’t told me you loved me now, I would have remembered anyway. Simply because that’s who I am, I am my love for you, you consume my entire soul.” You probably looked like a mess.

“You look beautiful.” Did you say that out loud?

You smile softly, “So when you admitted that you loved me, that I was inadvertently hurting you, I couldn’t take it. I had been the monster I sought to eliminate. So I pushed you away.” you sigh, “I pushed you away because I didn't want to go through the same pain again. I was selfish if you had just done the surgery, I'd be able to forget about this again and you wouldn't even remember.” you walk toward Sanji. “I’ve learned that I can’t run away from you anymore. And I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you again.”

“So let me save you.”

Sanji’s face was red, his eyes were blurry with tears, his fist clenching his handkerchief filled with petals and blooms.

“I’m so sorry.” Sanji’s voice trembles, “I am so sorry, I caused you so much pain, if I could take it back I would. And I don’t even deserve you, I’m not worthy of your love, but if you allow me, let me make it up.”

You close the gap between the two of you and pull his lips toward your own. They’re slightly chapped and both of your guy’s faces are wet but you don’t care. You feel his fingers carding through your hair, pulling you deeper.

This kiss was different from any others before, this one was filled with desire and want but it was also filled with joy and love.

You were finally happy.

You pull away first, breathing heavily and your face flushed, “You already are.”

“I love you so much, please never forget.” you wipe a stray tear, cradling his face.

You want to commit this memory in your brain. No more forgetting, no more letting go. To make sure that for the night, no cough was to be heard, no petal was to be hidden,

just two lovers finally with one another, forever.

#astraariel♡#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n

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dawnagustd · 1 year

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like that || jjk

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

Shit.

You’ve always known your luck was shit, but running into your crush at a party was the last thing you thought would happen. Especially the day after you finally talked to him only to discover he has a girlfriend. You found out also that he’s an asshole who likes to lead people on until he feels like crushing their feelings.

You can’t see him right now. Not like this.

Peach Cîroc staining your top, now soaked into your flesh… It’d be too embarrassing.

So, you hide. But the room you’ve chosen is already occupied.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, shi–”

Someone’s in here, and their voice startles you. Your right palm lays flat on your chest, trying to settle your racing heart. You turn around expecting to give an apology and be on your way, but once again, shitty luck.

“Jungkook? Seriously?”

How can things go from bad to worse?

Let’s just say you’ve been… Well, you’ve been avoiding one guy so you can chase another. A couple of months ago, you went on a blind date with a guy, and he just so happens to be the person standing in front of you. Only one person enjoyed that date, and it damn sure wasn’t you.

You knew by the way your friends described him that he was too good to be true. On paper, Jungkook sounds amazing—brown eyes, healthy hair, smart, talented… hot. But no one talks about his competitiveness. The 8-year-olds at the trampoline park will never be the same.

Instead of attraction, you can only feel annoyance when it comes to his arrogance. You would rather take the walk of shame than be stuck in here… with him.

“I’m leaving.”

“No,” he interjects. “You’re hiding.”

Jungkook takes the remaining steps to close the space separating you two, and like a deer caught in headlights, you’re frozen.

“Is someone bothering you?”

“What?! No, I’m not.”

The beginning of a chuckle travels past his lips, openly mocking you.

“You squeaked. You’re lying.” Jungkook tilts his head. “He’s out there, huh?”

Great. Everyone knows.

“Fuck off, Jungkook.”

This time he doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. His smirk just continues to grow as he stands toe to toe with you.

“Or I can do you one better,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows lift involuntarily as curiosity invades your thoughts. The thing about people who are full of themselves, they sure do talk a good game.

Tension appears to grow after his finger beckons you to come closer, his minty breath hitting your skin when he leans closer. The vibration from his words sends a tingle through your body. You suppose lack of sex will make the smallest things feel electrifying.

“...I can fuck you senseless right here against this door.”

“Oh, you’d like that, huh?”

Jungkook pulls away, taking the soothing scent of his Versace with him.

“I would,” he agrees. “And so would you if you ever gave me a chance.”

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with me.”

“You wanna bet on that?”

Silence dominates the dark bedroom as the stare-down begins. Neither of you wants to look away because that would mean defeat. That’s not an option when it comes to Jungkook.

“Scared you’ll want more, huh?”

“The lies you tell.”

Jungkook’s crooked smile never fades as he shakes his head. “I bet you’re a runner.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, you’ll think back on this and be mad at yourself for allowing him to get you worked up.

But that’s tomorrow's problem.

“Why? Don’t want to hear the truth–”

“You get on my nerves.” You grab Jungkook’s shirt and even he’s surprised. You could care less about his taunting because this is how he behaves when he wants your attention, but that smirk has got to go.

“I don’t care. Do something about that.”

Those glossy dark orbs hidden beneath his thick lashes focus directly on your lips. Your eyes explore his features, lingering on the tip of his tongue peeking out to bring moisture. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly releases.

“Give me an excuse to pin you against this wall,” he whispers.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kissing Jungkook was not in your plans tonight, but something comes over you, and you do just that. Your teeth click, and you grab at each other’s clothes as he guides you backward. When your back hits the door is when he finally comes to a stop, and his mint-tainted lips begin to venture lower.

Jungkook grips your ass while he nips the skin of your neck, leaving traces of him along your feverish skin. Your hair entangled in his hair pulls him closer as if there is any more space left between you.

“Hold on,” he breathes. “I smell alcohol. You good?”

Thinking about earlier, you roll your eyes as you recall some frat guy bumping into you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just got here. Some guy made me spill my drink all over myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He grips your hair and tilts your head, granting him more access to your collarbone and cleavage, two areas he can’t seem to abandon. “Remind me to kick his ass before we leave.”

A shuddered gasp escapes your lips when Jungkook’s teeth attack your flesh. He scoops you off your feet in the same motion, pinning you against the door with his hips while he leaves your skin wet and bruised. You can feel his bulge when he pushes up your skirt.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, raking your nails down his biceps.

He removes his jacket so you can feel more of his warmth beneath your palms. You feel Jungkook’s hand slip between you so he can pull down his pants. In this position, it’s impossible to see what he’s working with, but you can tell by the pressure probing at your panties that you’re going to feel every inch of him.

“One sec,” he murmurs.

Jungkook reaches for his wallet and finds a condom instantly. He opens the package and rolls it effortlessly. He’s probably done it more times than you can count, but that’s none of your business. It’s your turn now.

You pull your panties out of the way, and the blunt tip of his dick begins teasing your entrance, testing the waters until he’s sure it’s okay for him to sink into your pussy.

He makes you look at him while his cock slips inside of you, wanting the image of your initial reaction in his memory. You try to give him something decent to remember, but the stretch is so overwhelming your eyes roll back.

Jungkook eventually buries his face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own moans, but you hear how desperate he is to fuck you. With your permission, he makes small strokes until you both can overcome the sensitivity.

“Pussy’s too good for you to be stressed over a piece of shit,” he murmurs into your bosom. He licks the sticky substance coating your breasts and moans. “...And you taste too good.”

He starts thrusting harder, and your bodies cause the door to rattle and shake. Your cries begin to fill the room, and Jungkook encourages them by filling your head with praises.

“You’re so hot and beautiful. You think that guy deserves to fuck you like this?”

He grabs your hands and pins them above you, supporting you with nothing but his slender but toned waist. You’re left in awe as he bounces you on his dick.

“Even if he deserved it. He couldn’t,” Jungkook adds. “He could never fuck you like this.”

“Jungkook!”

You sob his name as your muscles tighten, pressure building within you as you near your peak. His forehead presses against yours, and he looks into your eyes while he fucks you.

“But I can do it. I can fuck you like this.”

“Please,” you rasp.

“Why should I?”

You knew he’d be a little asshole. Your pride does not compare to your pleasure, however.

“I need to come,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

After gritting your teeth, you just allow the words to flow from your mouth.

“Please let me come!”

“Fuck. Okay, love.” His pace quickens, and your moans get louder, startling everyone outside the door. Sweat forms on Jungkook’s forehead as he puts in the work to make you reach your high. “Your moans are so fucking beautiful.”

His praise drives you over the edge, and your orgasm ripples through you without warning. Your body shudders as Jungkook guides you through an intense wave of pleasure before his thrust becomes wild and he spills his load into the condom.

“You owe me a second date,” he sighs as his dick slips out of you. Both of you groan. You from the emptiness, and he from the loss of warmth. “You’re paying this time.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“I still don’t care,” he laughs.

Jungkook keeps you in this position while he caresses your thighs. You’re enjoying the gentleness of his touch. So, you don’t even complain. It’s a peaceful moment, and all the concerns you had recently have been buried underneath your dickmatized state.

After some minutes go by, Jungkook finally speaks.

“I’m going to put you down now, okay?”

“Okay.”

When your feet touch the ground is when everything sets in. You bask in it all as you both rearrange your clothing. You try to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, but it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t demand your attention.

“So, two options.”

“I’m listening.”

“We can pretend it never happened, or…”

“Or what?”

Jungkook smirks.

“We can pretend it never happened and go back to my place for round two,” he suggests.

The thought has you smiling before you even realize it.

You respond a bit shyly. “I like option two.”

“Oh, yeah?... Well, let’s go then.”

He grabs your hand, but you both pause before opening the door. There’s no way to explain this situation to anyone, and the second that door opens people will begin talking. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about that.

As if he can read your mind, Jungkook speaks up.

“Come on. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

And you know… Maybe Jungkook does deserve a second date.

No trampoline parks, though.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #thekpopuniverse #kvanity #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #fic: like that #sugakookitty

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edges-of-night · 10 months

Note

hi! I've just discovered your blog and I love it - from the url, profile pic, everything 😍 and most importantly your writing, it's so cute and you're able to write so many characters 🥰 as a fellow fic writer - I'm impressed 💜 can I request how they would first realize they love you, and how they would say it for the first time? No pressure, and thank you so much if you end up doing it. 🥰

- @wordbunch (sadly can't send asks from my Tolkien sideblog, so I'm on anon lol)

Thank you so so much for your kind words!! ♡ I’ve actually had this scenario in my “to do notes” already, so I’m very happy you requested it haha! Sorry again for posting so late, I hope you enjoy the read!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn is not someone to make the first step in romance, even if he is the one falling in love first. He’d probably realise it during the ranger job you do together, like looking for herbs or reading traces – where his hand brushed against yours! But Aragorn is very much the person to respond to a love confession of yours, after which he tells you that he reciprocates your feelings in a very romantic manner: “Me too. I am bound to you by honour and affection alike. If you would have me…”

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would fall in love with you after dancing together. It could be on a ball her father’s giving, or just the two of you under the moonlight, where she’d laugh of bliss. You’d notice a slight change in her behaviour afterwards, more smiles, stolen glances – but you could only be sure after she finally told you, “It is because I have fallen for you, melethel. And there is nothing you can do about it!”

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir takes a casual approach to love and romantic relationships. This is why his love confession to you would be rather nonchalant, maybe over a lunch you’re preparing together over the fire. “I love you, you know that?” he’d say, all cool – as if he didn’t fall for you when he saw you fearlessly wielding a sword and shield during combat training…

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond would fall in love with you so gradually he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint an exact moment of realisation. Maybe it would be over a book you’re reading together, or when he told you about all the ancient stories he witnessed himself – or a grand love story. And then he’d turn to you and say, “Are you aware that this is how I feel about you as well?” He’d be very tender and playful about it, but earnest at the same time. He is very considerate toward you.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer doesn’t fall in love easily. Maybe due to this lack of experience, he has trouble expressing his feelings after that one horseback ride you did through the rain, where he helped you out of your dirty clothes afterward. His love confession would be a tedious process, with lots of phrases like, “Don’t make me say it. I lack the words to tell you…” – before he eventually leans in for a kiss and quietly adds, “Forgive me. I hope this tells you all the same.”

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn is always brash and joyous around you, so her love confession would take you quite by surprise. She’d pick “an old Rohirrim tradition” to show you, maybe a special exchange of gifts, a traditional dance routine etc. “This is how the people of Rohan express their love,” she’d tell you with a soft smile and hopeful eyes. If asked, she would tell you when she realised she loved you: during sword lessons, of course!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir falls in love with you as soon as he meets you. He’s always been like that, heart racing with as little as a soft look or touch of a hand. For this same reason, and Gondor’s marriage policy, he swallows down any confessions because he has little hope in his own feelings. But after months, maybe years of courting and mutual affection, he’d finally tell you, in some grand romantic spot he chose – on his knees – because he’d connect it to a marriage proposal!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would realise he loved you on a warm summer morning, as you’re walking barefoot in the grass – and then not tell you. He’d keep his secret to himself (haha), just smile to himself and subtly check the way you’re feeling before confessing to you – probably while holding both your hands, because that’s how sincere he is! “It gives me hope to hear you say that, because I, too, hold you very dear and love you very much!”

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Thanks to her powerful telepathy skills, Galadriel probably knows you love her before you yourself do. She knows all about your feelings – but nothing of her own. I like to imagine her as blissfully oblivious, right up until the moment you confess to her. Then something would click inside her, and with a blank stare ahead, she’d whisper, “I love you, too. I haven’t realised it until now – but I do.”

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would realise he loved you after you’ve said or done something incredibly smart, like maybe found the solution to a problem that he was unable to solve. It’d make his heart skip a beat, he even looks away with a blush! And then he’d despair trying to find a “suitable moment for courtship”, as the old ways suggested, full of ceremony – and probably end up telling you his feelings very casually over a cup of tea he invited you to.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Your usually hard-shelled Dwarf gets very flustered when he says the three words to you – followed by some nervous babbling, like, “There! I said it first. And I mean it very earnestly.” The moment he fell for you was probably connected to seeing you in a new light: Working in the mines all day leaves little room for elegance, but after seeing you in your beautiful banquet outfit, Gimli was walking into walls for the next three days!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir has always dreaded falling in love. But when you smiling at him makes his heart skip about three beats, he cannot lie to himself any longer. He can lie to you and everyone else though, needless to say. Not that anyone actually believes his denials… But Haldir would only confess his love in a life-or-death situation, when he thinks he’d never get the chance again. Then, of course, he’d be as elegant and romantic as all Elves are.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

If you are near Legolas the moment he realises he loves you – on a scouting trip, for example, or during preparations for a ball in Mirkwood – he’d tell you right away. He’d give you an analysing look, with a smile dancing around his lips, and say something like, “How I love you right now! I love you very much, my dear.” Thanks to his royal training, of course, he’d respectfully draw back until you’ve made your own feelings clear.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

While he’s usually rather easy-going, Merry would plan out his love confession (meaning: a speech!) step by step, including an outfit plan and meal schedule designed specifically for you. He is the thinking type, and when it comes to this, he tends to overthink. He’d include a line like, “From the moment I first saw you…” when in reality, he probably fell for you when you joined one of his shenanigans without any reservations, proving just how similar you two are at heart.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin strikes me as a very “love at first sight” kind of person. At the same time, he’s really casual and playful about it. He’d only talk about it in return of your confession to him, like, “I never thought about that! I fell in love with you the first time we met!” – and probably shower you in a million compliments in the process!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam would realise he’s in love with you while thinking of new poetry to write – because all he thinks about is you! Somewhen along the line, he’d lean back in his chair, starting at the dozens of pages he wrote about you – and then have the overwhelming urge to go up and meet you to tell you right away, in his adorably sincere and gentle manner ♡

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zombyjuice · 4 months

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NOBODY BETTER THAN YOU! - eunseok.🍨🦷🐆🍦 t(>.<t)

In which your boyfriend you recently just got back together with is coming over for the first time since.

bf!eunseok x fem loser!reader

toxic relationship, fluff, angst, smut! suggestions to the reader having depression (NOT ROMANIZING.) suggested cheating. etc..

so many things inspired/helped me make this so I’m just gonna . @melobin and @anquelic on insta and my playlist below took inspo from there too <33 lol!

“Eunseoks here…” one of your roommates sneered from the other side of the door you could almost feel the face they gave eachother. You hop up and rush to open your door with a wide smile on your face “Hey baby” your boyfriend, walking towards you, a hand in one pocket and a bag of Burger King in the other an extremely attractive smile on his face “hii” you practically melted pulling him into your room and hugging him tight.

“Please don’t fuck yet! Give it a week!”

“shut the fuck up!”

He chuckled kissing your forehead and pinching your sides, you loved it when he did that, made you feel so safe you could practically feel your heart melt watching his movements as he placed the bag on your table.

That feeling goes away in an instant as you watch him sigh as he moves some of your clutter to the side. This made your heart flutter with sadness and your brain go a bit fuzzy.

He understands you more than anybody really, he’s patient and he does seem to care for you, he understood all those months before you guys were ever official you’d disappear trying to decide if he’s the one and if you should give him the chance.

He understood the nights where you’d just sit in silence not wanting to be touched or talked to, and he understood the nights you guys would be talking like normal only for you to start crying out of nowhere, or the nights you’d scream and push him losing your temper only to end up in his arms letting him watch you crumble under him. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay I've got you, doing so well for daddy” “‘m not mad at you, okay pretty, it's okay”. He understood the nights when you were finally your silly self after spending a weekend alone.

He understood all your quirks and interests. Once he dragged you to one of his sets because he remembered someone working on it had a dog who understood multiple languages, remembering your rather odd fascination with it how. can they do that? And watching as you said sit to the dog in Spanish, French, and Japanese, complete shock and happiness painted on your face as you laughed and laughed, adoration painted on his.

So how is it that you caught him multiple times all over the girl, the same girl he had a pass with, rumor has it they were “casually” sleeping together before you ever entered the picture you know it was deeper than that. To him “it wasn’t that big of a deal and he was just being nice.” You had to constantly shift your morals just so you could be happy with him, he knew you hated it, he knew the disgust you felt with yourself every time you’d go back with him. But you loved him so it's alright.

You knew the irritation and anger that bubbled up inside of him when you'd ask “Are you unhappy in our relationship?” or “Am I annoying you? I'm sorry” but he loves you so he's got to deal with it, right?

And no matter how many times you believed he cheated he was stable, nothing in your life is stable but him. So maybe that’s why you feel you always go back to him. And only him. Because, to you, there's nobody better than him.

He turned to you already able to read your face “It's alright, today's our lazy Sunday isn't it? We'll clean a bit tomorrow but for now, cmere let's lie down”

The smile that was once on your face came back and you gladly took his hand as he led you to your bed and cozy. Watching some of your favorite horror movies and munching on Burger King you between his legs a hands squishing your thighs and head dropping down to your neck every now and then to suck a hickey at your favorite spots your hands would grab at his knees as you whimper and giggle. “quit it, they’re finally escaping”. He'd quietly pout and slightly rut his hips up against you visibly hard.

{2:49 am}

Your eyes meet your boyfriends and grab at his hand that's hitching up your inner thigh, yours visibly smaller “Should we play some-” he smashed his lips against yours, your first actual kiss of the night “fuck I know we said we wouldn't do anything, but shit you look so good, sound so good, need to fuck my babies in you, make you mine forever” he grabbed at your neck and slid it down to your arm, manhandling you under him.

You could only submit to him, knowing this would have happened by the end of the “night”.

“Can’t believe I spent so many Sundays without you, felt so wrong, I’ve missed you so much” he'd moan against your lips grabbing at your thighs and aggressively pushing them up as he grinds against you, whimpers slipping out of you “missed you so much more” you’d whisper mind going elsewhere remembering exactly why you spent so many night away from each other’s grasp.

“Let me fuck away all that nonsense,only have you think about this cock” as if he could read your mind “please”.

And just like that he’d do exactly what he said.

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eoieopda · 10 months

Text

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it.

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it — your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain.

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance.

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone.

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however.

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs.

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind.

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night.

That rush of warmth you felt then — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job.

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”

“No, that was embarrassing.”

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink.

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?”

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —”

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point:

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?”

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise.

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning.

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict?

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty.

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex.

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer.

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own.

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness.

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars.

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more.

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank.

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now.

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can.

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement.

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No.

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going.

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap.

Once more with feeling: thank god.

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance.

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances.

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it.

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning.

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all.

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded.

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances, “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck.

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you:

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours.

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours.

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?”

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms.

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod.

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh.

Fuck.

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you.

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap.

Strike that.

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive. “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.”

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes.

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks.

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs.

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?”

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear.

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist.

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut.

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear.

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow, he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please.

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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to-the-stars8 · 10 months

Text

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3 18+ MDNI here's your nickleback smut, for context find that post about me listening to nickleback. also I didn't re-read this bc I'm just too tired lol

54-Positions and Pillow Talk

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” You gasped, turning to scream into the pillow. From this angle, he was hitting just the right spots and incredibly fucking deep. “Just like that. Oh, shit, Jason!”

The way you said his name, breathlessly and full of lust, had Jason’s heart fluttering while his cock twitched. Looking down at you like you were a gift he’d been wanting for years, Jay gripped at your ass until there were indentions of his fingers left behind. It would leave bruises, he knew, but he decided that the guilt could come later. Yet, that wasn’t enough. He wanted to be closer.

Jason groaned as he pushed into you as deep as he could until he bottomed out, and his chest was against your back. Your body went limp for a second, and he looked up just in time to see you turn to let out another string of loud moans into the pillow.

Smiling, he asked, “You good, sweetheart?”

Sweaty and flushed, you weakly hummed a yes. Jason insisted to hear your voice as he moved pieces of hair from your mouth. “Yes, I just—You’re so fucking good…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Jason started to slowly thrust again, pressing sloppy kisses into your shoulder as he did. His hand snaked around your waist, his fingers tracing a sweaty line from the bottom of your breasts to between your legs.

You put your hand on his, mumbling something incoherent as your eyes fluttered closed again. Jason thought about stopping, seeing how overstimulated you were and not wanting to push too far, but he remembered that you’d let him know when enough was enough. And, by the whine you gave, hand pushing against his, you wanted more.

Jason moaned into your hair as his fingers finally found the place he’d been searching for. You were soaked, the wetness causing his fingers to easily slide against your clit, finding the just right rhythm you liked.

Jason steadied himself with his other hand as he slowly pulled out before slamming into you again. You yelped in surprise, hands scrabbling to find something to cling onto until one found the pillow next to you and the other found his forearm.

“You look so pretty,” Jason whispered against your ear, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You looked up at him, eyes glazed over but a sincere, sweet smile on your face as you tried to get out a thank you. Yet, when he hit that spot again, your eyes closed and you thinned your lips to contain another moan. Jason couldn’t have pictured a prettier sight, nor anything else he’d rather be doing than you.

Before you made a sound, he felt you come undone, pussy fluttering around his cock. It made his movements stutter for a second, because, for how good he was at finding all the right places in you, you were somehow better at doing the same to him. Jason groaned, forehead pressing against the back of your shoulder as he concentrated to not cum just yet. He wanted this feeling to last a little longer, to be right on the edge yet again.

When you finally turned your face from the pillow, you tried to look at Jason over your shoulder, hand on his arm weakly stroking him reassuringly. Breathless, weakly, you asked, “How we doin’ back there, honey?”

Jason chuckled, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, “We’re good, baby. You good for me to keep going?”

“Yeah, but wait,” You said sheepishly. “Can we change positions? I wanna try a new one.”

Jason nodded, a bit hesitant at first because he liked the way the two of you were— You were certainly enjoying it in any case. Though, that didn’t stop him from slowly removing himself from you with a whimper.

Taking the arm you already holding, you pulled him to lie behind you on his side, essentially making him spoon you. Jason, once he realized what you were doing, was enthusiastic about fucking you while essentially cuddling. He slipped his hand under your ass and up the back of your thigh, pushing your leg up in the air so he could align himself back at your entrance. There was little resistance as he pushed in, only taking a second to make sure you were okay before bucking his hips against you again.

He was thrusting faster and wild this time, losing a lot of the constraint from before. Jason liked this position, it gave him easier access to other parts of your body and he just felt a fuck ton closer to you. Skin pressed against skin, and there was no hiding your face into a pillow or hiding how much you liked it. As you were quickly a blubbering mess, nails digging into Jason’s forearms as his arms held you to him so incredibly tight.

He was whispering shit into your hair, but fuck all if you were listening—completely blocking him out when his fingers found your clit again. You squealed, still sensitive from earlier. Jason groaned, his lips finding the nape of your neck and sucking a hickey into the soft skin. While you attempted to turn your head to kiss him, you finally came again. Your orgasm was sudden and unanticipated, washing over you so quickly that you didn’t have time to register Jason finally capturing your lips with his.

“Jason,” You sobbed, turning to look down at where your bodies conjoined. You could see your slick covering the inside of your thighs and his cock, and it send butterflies to your stomach. Suddenly, you cried out, “Fuck, I want you to come in me.”

Jason whimpered lightly into your ear, a sound so sweet and pitiful. He was so close, you could feel him twitch inside you as he tried to pull you closer. With both arms wrapped around your waist, his hips snapped forward in desperation.

“Oh, fuck,” He whispered into your ear. “I’m gonna…fuck, sweetheart—Gonna cum.”

Before you could say anything he stilled, letting out a breathy moan against your ear. Having him cum in you was another kind of pleasure you didn’t know you’d been yearning for, and he certainly had been holding back. When Jason pulled out, whimpering as he did, he couldn’t help himself as he push himself back in—causing an obscene squelch sound you didn’t think be recreated outside of porn.

“Shit,” He breathed against your ear after a few minutes. “You’re so fucking good.”

Letting out a quick laugh, you turned to give him a peck on the lips. “Right back at ya, handsome.”

Jason chuckled before loosening his grip around your waist, just enough that you took the opportunity to wiggle away. As much as you loved the feeling of his cum in you, you never quite liked the mess.

“Babe, no,” Jason whined. “Stay.”

You giggled, trying to withstand the jelly feeling in your legs, before waddling to the bathroom. Jason smiled to himself as he sat up, reaching for his phone. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” He had felt hungry for the past hour but was too entrenched in the sex to pay attention to the feeling. “I’m famished.”

“Who the fuck says famished, Jason?” You called back, laughing.

He snickered, “People who read.”

“I read!” Your voice grew louder as you opened the door. “And, yes, I am very hungry.”

Jason shook his head, “Said like someone who doesn’t read.”

You laughed, picking out some clothes from your drawer before turning to him again. “You know, I bet there is no one else in the entire world who has sexier pillow talk than us.”

Jason’s laugh was a low rumble that was welcoming to the ears and you abandoning the clothes you had picked out. Almost instantly he noticed what you were doing, putting his phone off to the side and saying, “Well, look what all that lack of reading and too much talking is about to get you now.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #romance #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #batfamily #robin jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction

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saetoru · 11 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。12:06 AM — SAMPO KOSKI.

notes: friends/acquaintances to lovers, mutual pining but seemingly unrequited love, confessions (kind of lol), happy ending !!, not proof read and also idek if it’s in character but idk i just want to kiss him but he’s also rly punchable so we had to work with that okay

sampo is a bit shameless—it’s what anyone would tell you. personally, you would have to agree.

“so,” he drawls, “how about it, huh? you, me, a fancy little date—”

“no,” you interrupt—it’s immediate, your response, it comes through grit teeth. “you can forget it.”

“alright, alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, “no need to get all aggressive. the sampo koski will change your mind soon enough.”

you’ve lost count how many times he’s asked you this same question. maybe it’s admirable—the way he’s so persistent. maybe it’s dangerous—the way he always gets what he’s after. most people describe sampo koski as an added headache to the already difficult life of the underworld. he’s a bit too lively for his own good, you think. but you’d describe him as pretty words and perfect teeth and cologne that makes your head spin.

you hate it.

“there won’t be any mind changing,” you say promptly.

“oh, c’mon,” he insists, voice effortlessly honeyed and so painfully alluring. “what’s the worst that could happen, huh? we have a good time?” his lips curl into that smile if his. you swallow and look away.

a lot, you want to say. the worst that can happen is a lot.

and it’s easy, you think—to reach over and fix that strand of hair that’s fallen to the wrong side of his face. it’s easy to bump shoulders with him or turn and brush your noses together and feel his hot breath as he exhales.

but that would be toying with overstepping dangerous boundaries, boundaries that are very much set in place by yourself for your own sake. sampo has saved you one too many times from a hard spot—but he’s always managed to disappear just when you think he’s reliable too. he’s too good at bending things in his favor, a little too good at getting what he wants out of everything.

it’s not hard to think what he wants from you—and it’s not hard to imagine him disappearing once again once he’s got it. the difference is you think this time…well, you think this time might just crush you.

“sampo, do you want me to punch you?” you huff, crossing your arms.

it’s late. you’re not sure why he’s gone out of his way to walk you home, but he does and you’re a tad bit grateful. you’d rather not run into a vagrant on your way—and if you do, that’s happily sampo’s problem now.

there’s something about it, about the way he’s dedicated only when there’s something to gain out of it, about the way he’s so sweet and charming as he butters you up with his actions, about the way his smile is gentle around the corners just perfectly to crack your resolve.

he’s so good at what he does—and so painfully bad for your heart. your poor, fragile heart that’s so carefully locked away from his awaiting hand. you think to give it to him would be to hand the devil your soul and trust it’s safety.

you’re not so foolish.

“hey, we’re pals, you and i,” he nudges you with his shoulder. the contact is enough to make your breath pause. “how can you be so cruel?”

there’s a pout on his lips. a perfectly rehearsed, theatrical and conniving pout on his lips that’s meant to add to his charm and chip away at your composure until you give him exactly what he’s after. for a moment, you debate whether or not you’d rather just take on a vagrant or deal with the (very attractive) disaster next to you.

“we’re acquaintances at best,” you purse your lips. “very faintly acquainted acquaintances at that.”

“well that’s just mean,” he gasps, “after all the business deals we’ve had together? i thought i’d be on your good side by now.”

that’s all you think he sees anything as. a good business opportunity. maybe he’s a good friend—he never leaves you for dead and he never really lets you down when you need him most, but perhaps that’s for his own benefit at the end. how else can you have connections if they’re all dead? but you don’t think intimacy is a word sampo uses in his every day vocabulary—much less his every day routine.

“sampo,” you snap, “drop it.”

“hey,” he eyes you, “everything alright?”

you hate that he acts like that—like he cares as his lips curl into that soft frown and his eyes gloss over in concern. it’s so carefully crafted, that mask of his, the one he can turn on to mimic every emotion he might need to fool you that he really cares and he really wants to know if you’re okay.

and you’re not—but he doesn’t need to know that.

“everything would be fine if you quit asking for your stupid date,” you grumble, “cross me off your list for the day.”

he stops walking. you kick yourself for immediately noticing the lack of warmth as soon as he’s not beside you anymore.

“what?”

it’s a simple question. one word. one syllable. yet it says so much. the hurt in his voice, the genuine confusion, the slight shock and the underlying betrayal.

“why’d you stop walking,” you raise a brow, “it’s late and i’m tired—”

“you’re changing the subject,” he cuts you off, “what do you mean list?”

“c’mon sampo, let’s not play this game tonight,” you sigh, “i’m really tired.”

“and what game are we playing?”

“the game of playing dumb,” you snap, and this time, there’s a bit more bite to your words, “the game of asking around to worm your way into everyone’s pants.”

“everyone’s pants? i didn’t know sampo koski had such a reputation,” he chuckles in that playful way of his—but there’s no charm this time, just dryness. “i didn’t know you believed it too.”

“so what am i supposed to believe? that you want to go on a date for fun?”

“that’s usually what people do on dates,” he shrugs, “have fun with people they like.”

he looks a bit wounded. it makes your heart bleed and you don’t like it. his shoulders are slumped and his eyes aren’t looking directly into yours for once—it’s like you’ve peeled off that confidence he wears like a second skin and left something a lot more tender and raw underneath.

something a lot easier to sting with the burn of rejection.

admittedly, you never thought you’d see the day where you’d feel bad for sampo after your rejection. you always thought you’d feel bad for yourself—saying no to everything you want but can’t ever really have. but he makes you feel like he wanted it too….that he’s been craving you just as badly as you’ve been craving him all this time.

“what are you—”

“listen, i….” and then he trails off. like he doesn’t have the right words. like he doesn’t know what he wants to say and has everything he wants to get off his chest all at the same time. like he needs you to know what’s on his mind. in the end, he plasters a grin on his face—one that’s tight and forced as he chuckles, “let’s get ya home, yeah? sampo koski will have you delivered to your door in once piece in no time—”

“sampo,” you sigh, “what do you want from me?”

there’s defeat in your voice. maybe hope. definitely caution.

“a date,” is all he says. “i’ve only ever asked you,” he adds, “if that’s what you’re worried about. no side deals or anything.”

that last part comes with another chuckle that really has no humor at all. it’s dry and empty and maybe even a little bitter.

“look, i appreciate the dedication, but i’d rather not be that fun hook up on the side that—”

“hey! that’s just harsh,” he gasps, “you’d think so lowly of sampo koski? after everything we’ve been through?”

sampo is good at one thing—playing the ever dedicated, ever conniving, ever charming business man. he knows how to lace in sweet words and tempting offers like how the devil whispers sins into your ears. he never cracks, never lets that facade fall even when he’s backed into a corner.

except this time, you don’t think it’s a facade. you think it’s a wall to keep you from noticing the pure heartbreak in his eyes.

it fills you with guilt instantly. it makes you almost hate yourself for not seeing good in him. it makes you feel blind for not noticing all the signs he’s been dropping for so long—signs you know he’s never given anyone else.

who else does he bump shoulders with and walk home in the dark and flick foreheads and make time for even when he’s on a tight schedule? who else gets to hear him talk about his day for just the sake of talking without and not a guise for a deal?

for a second you feel bad—and then you decide that for once, you’ll do something about it.

“sampo koski is always disappearing,” you say softly, taking a step forward, “what if he disappears this time too?”

“sampo koski always comes back,” he reminds you, heart on his sleeve as he meets you half way.

“always?” you ask hopefully.

he nods, like it’s the surest thing he’s promised. “of course.”

“okay, sampo,” you chuckle breathlessly, whether in joy or in disbelief, you’re unsure. maybe both. your hand cups his cheeks and when he leans into it, you decide it’s definitely both. “let’s go on your date. you’re paying.”

“you didn’t have to bring money into it,” he pouts—but the excitement in his voice is almost tangible.

you giggle, squeeze his cheeks together as his hands find your waist. it’s dark and it’s late and you’re tired—but sampo koski is here and nothing else has ever mattered more.

“i expect only the best date from the sampo koski.”

“good,” he grins, charming as ever, a little extra only for you, “because sampo koski never disappoints.”

you kiss him after that. and every day too.

i have been bewitched by the meathead guys 😔

#tee star rail debut ?? i thought my first piece would be blade but it’s taking me 8274 years to meet him. never expected sampo but good god #he gets you when you least expect it #sampo x reader #sampo x you #sampo fluff #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x you #sampo koski fluff #star rail x reader #star rail x you #star rail fluff #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff #teepods.writings #drabbles.

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