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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

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He's a God, He's a Man

[A/N: This… is filth. Absolutely shameless PWP (there’s a hint of plot for context of their relationship if you squint). Thomas Shelby could literally step on me and I would apologize for being in the path of his foot tbh.]

—————

Thomas Shelby is many things- ever intelligent, inexplicably cunning, unfathomably brave, sinfully wicked, and the luckiest son of a bitch in the Peaky Blinders to walk around with a spitfire of a woman on his arm every day and take her to bed every night.

“That’s enough outta you now!” Your sharp reprimand carries over the din of the tavern, piquing Tommy’s interest. Casually enjoying his first love, aged Irish whiskey, as the hopeful business associate before him prattles on about his prize-winning horse, Tommy subtly knocks twice on the wooden doors to the window hiding the private room from the remainder of the Garrison.

One of the barmaids eases the doors open so Tommy can get a view of what’s going on, ducking her head in deference when he waves her away, his use for her satisfied. A sleazy looking man with an even sleazier-looking shock of hair above his upper lip trails his fingers along your arm as you place a pint in front of him, and your raven-haired lover’s mouth sets into a hard line as he watches the scene unfold. You deflect yet another advance with a swipe of your hand and exaggerated eye roll, and Tommy returns his attention to the man before him, secure in the knowledge that you can handle yourself against the likes of that scum.

Until he hears lousy fuck and useless whore.

Excusing himself from his meeting, Tommy drains the remainder of his tumbler with an eerie calm and rises from the table, opening the door to the main room of the Garrison with the full intention of sending this man to meet his maker.

Your lover watches with rapt fascination as you emit a playful, two-toned whistle before a glint of metal flies from your hand, landing between two of the man’s splayed fingers on the bar top, a trickle of red oozing down the side of his middle finger where the knife Tommy gifted you for your anniversary has just grazed skin. “There’s only one man in this world who talks to me like that and you sure ain’t him, eh?”

He lewdly sucks on the bleeding finger before firing back, “Oh yeah? And who’s that, lovey?”

Leaning against the doorframe, Tommy loudly clears his throat to announce his presence as he lazily strikes a match, lighting the cigarette dangling between his lips and cocking his head in a silent challenge. His icy eyes are trained on the nuisance who won’t take no for an answer and you smirk to yourself, relishing in the power that radiates off of his lithe body. “Why, that would be one Mister Shelby,” you simper, “and he once killed a man for looking at his horse the wrong way. Imagine what he’d do to the likes of you.”

“Shelby? As in Thomas?”

“Ay, lovey,” you spit the term back in his face. “Don’t tell me you don’t know whose pub you’re in.” He swallows audibly and you carry on with a wicked grin. “If you want to walk out of here on your own two legs, I’d suggest leaving right about now.” As the alcohol-induced rose of his cheeks fades into a pallor of fear, you lean in and drop your voice. Tommy can’t hear your final comment, but his lips quirk into a smile at the sound of your warm laugh ringing out across the Garrison as the man topples off his stool in his haste to escape from your presence.

Flicking the match he was playing with to the floor, Tommy makes his way over to right the fallen seat before taking up the vacated spot, easing the knife out of the wood and tucking it back into your skirt pocket. “You enjoyed that a bit too much.”

“It would seem I’ve got a little Shelby in me now, eh?” You place two fingers of amber liquor before him, leaning against the bar top on your elbows and coyly glancing down at his lap. “I suppose little isn’t quite the right word, though.”

Tommy swipes a thumb over your bottom lip turned up in a wolfish smile, icy blue eyes crackling to life. “Careful, pet, or you’ll bring Arthur’s temper out.”

Leaning closer and letting your eyes drift closed as the heady scent of Tommy mixed with his signature smoke and whiskey envelops you, you ask, “How so?”

“Because,” your eyes snap open when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips against your skin, the pressure of his grip on your chin gentle yet possessive, “he’ll lose money if I kick everyone out of the pub to fuck you on this bar.”

Snagging the cigarette from between his lips, you take a long drag before sighing contentedly and replacing it in his mouth, his sharp gaze tracking your every move. “I’ll meet you in your office, Mister Shelby.”

______

You hear the telltale sounds of the office door creaking open then closing, followed by the familiar padding of Tommy’s footsteps leading him to his desk, fourteen unhurried paces. You don’t dare raise your head or disturb your position, on your knees, palms resting on your thighs, eyes cast downward. Tommy lets out a quiet hum as he cards his fingers through your hair when he walks by- a simple motion, but one that has your blood singing in your veins nonetheless. He shuffles some files around on the desk before settling into the leather chair with a soft groan, casually flipping through the morning paper as he lights another cigarette and the smell of smoke permeates the room.

You try to calm your breathing, to quell the excitement growing in your body at the thought of what’s to come. Out there in the real world, you’re all sharp edges and fiery comments; in here, in the sanctity of Tommy’s presence and his presence alone, you love to give yourself up completely. To let him think for you, to command you, to own your very mind, body, and soul. You live and love to serve him- he’s not just your man, he’s your god, and oh do you love to worship at his feet, to prostrate yourself before him, to pray to his visage.

He merely pats his thigh twice and your body comes alive, fueled by a primal urge to bask in the aura that is Thomas Shelby. You’re by his side in an instant, cheek pressed against the deliciously rigid muscle of his thigh as his fingers knead your scalp.

“Such a good little pet,” he murmurs softly, and your eyes close in contentment as you let out a happy sigh. His fingers suddenly tighten in your hair, yanking on the dark strands until you’re forced to meet his eyes, a hungry wolf gazing down upon his lamb, a reverent parishioner looking up to her deity. “Mine. And only mine.”

“Yes, sir,” you gasp out, but not from fear. You could never be afraid of him. “I belong to you, Tommy.”

He’s caressing your face now, the rough pads of his fingertips causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin that’s already humming from his touch. “Mm. And yet other men have the fucking audacity to touch what’s mine.”

“Maybe they don’t know I’m yours.”

His eyes flash with rage moments before you register his hand around the column of your throat, pulling you up to stand before him. “And just what the fuck does that mean, pet?”

“I only- mean-” You feel your legs growing weak from the lack of oxygen, and Tommy shifts his grip higher, thumb pressing into your cheek to pull you even closer. His breath fans across your face as he growls, “Spit it out, love.”

“I mean that you should mark me,” you whimper pathetically, what was once a dull ache between your thighs now an insistent throbbing. “Leave your fingerprints on my neck. Bite me hard enough to draw blood. Brand your fucking initials into my skin, Tommy.” You hurriedly unbutton your blouse and bare your unadulterated skin to him in offering. “I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” he smirks with a slight shake of his head, in awe of your complete and utter devotion to him.

And then he’s on you, pouncing like a hungry predator upon his prey, forcing his tongue past your lips as he undoes the fastenings on your skirt. You help him shimmy the fabric down your legs and rid yourself of your undergarments as well, desperate to feel his masterful hands roving your naked body. His fingers dance along your throat creating a roadmap that his lips follow. You let your head fall back with a whine, granting him access to nip at the soft flesh as you fumble with the buttons of his vest and then his shirt. Tommy pulls away from you to shrug his upper layers off, and you take advantage of the momentary reprieve from his sensual assault to trace the sun rays on his pectoral muscle with your tongue as the ink is revealed to you.

He releases a breathless chuckle when you moan at the taste of his skin and asks, “Ready to put that quick-witted mouth of yours to good use, my girl?”

Pressing a final kiss to his chest, you pull back and nod with a smile, legs parting instinctively when he eases you backwards to sit in his worn leather chair. You let your hand fall between your thighs to spread the wetness growing there with every passing moment in Tommy’s dominating presence, coupling a pout with an indignant whine when he takes his cock out and strokes it languidly just out of your reach. “Come closer,” you beg, saliva pooling in your mouth at the mere sight of him.

“Stop touching what’s mine, brat,” he orders, eyebrow cocked and gaze trained on your fingers as they slide between your glistening folds. You emit a huff before dropping your hands obediently to your sides, lips parted and tongue out in anticipation of your reward. Tommy praises you softly, then guides his cock inside your eagerly waiting mouth, placing his hand around your throat and pushing deeper until he can feel the substantial bulge against his palm. You moan and inadvertently swallow several times around him, the twin sensations causing Tommy to release a low groan that sets your nerves alight with unabashed lust.

Placing your hand over his, you tighten your grip suggestively and look up at Tommy from under your lashes. You earn yourself a sinister smile in response, and you shift your hands to the arms of his chair, an open invitation for him to do with you as he desires.

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, his fingers on your throat expertly placing pressure on the points that have you seeing stars as his left hand tangles in your hair to guide your mouth along his cock. You moan with abandon as he mercilessly fucks your mouth, tears spilling over your waterline to match the drool slipping down your chin. The chair shifts back sharply, protesting Tommy’s frenzied pace, and you hook your fingers into his belt loops to try and steady your body. Looking up, you find the absolute picture of ecstasy, sweat-slicked strands of the brunette’s hair dancing across his forehead in time with the rocking of his hips, his supple bottom lip captured between his teeth just barely muffling his feral grunts. The distinct taste of his precum pervades your senses and a whimper escapes your lips that are stretched comically around his thick cock.

Tommy pulls back abruptly, and you whine his name in protest at the loss despite the stinging sensation in your lips. He admonishes you with a click of his teeth for the bratty sound, tightening his fingers around the column of your throat in a grip that’s sure to leave bruises, just as you requested. Using his free hand to uncurl your fingers from his belt loop, Tommy guides your hand to his throbbing cock. You immediately know what he wants, and a strangled curse falls past your lips. Applying pressure, you twist your hand along the length of him, feeling his cock twitch against your skin and closing your eyes seconds before his cum is coating your face. He releases your throat from his grasp and you fall back in the chair, darting your tongue out to wet your chapped lips and moaning at the taste of his release.

“Thank you, sir,” you offer in an utterly cock drunk haze with a demure smile. Tommy feels himself already growing hard again at the sight of your delicate fingers drawing his cum into your greedy mouth, your chest heaving, face flushed, and legs parted in invitation. He kneels to get on your level and you surge forward for a heated kiss, raking your nails along the shaved sides of his head before tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging sharply. He laughs at your eagerness, a low and dark sound that sends yet another wave of arousal shooting to your core.

“I’m sure you’ve left your mark now,” you speak between desperate kisses, moaning as he breaks away from your mouth to drag his nose along your burning skin. You cry out sharply when his teeth follow the same path, nipping and sucking down the hollow of your throat to the curve where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m not through with you yet,” he murmurs against your flushed skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot. You throw your head back with a low groan at the prickling sensation followed by the soothing of his velvet tongue, wrapping your legs around his lower back and trapping him against your body. Tommy can feel the heat emanating from your center, and he mercifully slides his middle finger between your folds as he shifts to mark the blank canvas on the other side of your neck.

“Tommy!” You rock your hips against him, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit, absolutely desperate for release. He adds a second finger, expertly curling them in time with your movements and grinning wickedly at the sinful sounds he’s able to draw from you.

“Who do you belong to, love?”

“You,” you’re panting now, climbing higher by the second. “Only you. You own me.”

The pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves and the languid pace of his fingers is driving you wild in the most sensational of ways. He licks a stripe up your neck, collecting the sweat beading there before pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. His voice is deathly low when he growls, “Say my name. Who do you belong to, love?”

“Thomas,” you gasp as your orgasm washes over you in waves, your nails digging into his broad shoulders and legs shaking against his muscular back, using his body as an anchor to try and tether yourself to this world. “I belong to you, Thomas.”

“Good little whore,” he praises softly, making sure to hold eye contact with you while he licks his fingers clean. “Now,” he smirks as he tugs on your bottom lip and you dart your tongue out to brush against the pad of his thumb, “we’ll revisit this idea of branding another day, hm?”

You nod bashfully, and Tommy presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth before untangling your limbs from around his body. “Bend over the desk facing the door with your legs spread.”

Blinking hazily at him in your post-orgasm stupor, you shake your head, not comprehending his words. “What?”

He leans against the mantel, crossing one ankle over the other as he slides a cigarette out of the box from his pocket. Lifting one eyebrow at you as he casually strikes a match, he speaks around the stick between his lips. “You’re not going to like what happens if I have to repeat myself.”

You scramble to stand on your jellied legs, grateful for Tommy’s foresight to have the desk hold your body up. You tuck your fingertips over the smooth edge of the front of his desk, inhaling sharply as your bare breasts meet the cool wood when you fold in half. You hear Tommy groan softly as he sinks into his now vacated leather seat, and he easily kicks your feet apart to bare your body completely to him. You can feel his hungry gaze on you and the wisps of smoke wafting over your body with each controlled exhale from between his beautiful lips. Closing your eyes, you envision the way he balances the cigarette between lithe fingers, how the tip of his tongue meets the end of the stick before each drag, how his lips curl to clear the smoke from his lungs. Craning your neck to look at Tommy because the image in your brain pales in comparison to the man himself, you all but purr at the sight of him casually leaning back in his chair, one hand cradling a cigarette, the other lazily stroking his rock hard length. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you swear you can taste him on your tongue, feel the stretch of him filling you where you need him most.

His cigarette gradually dwindles until he’s forced to put it out. Still, he remains seated and silent, the very picture of dominance and self-control.

“Tommy,” you finally break the silence, the ache between your thighs having grown into an insistent throbbing, “I’m ready for that little bit of Shelby in me now.”

Instead of the heavy weight of his cock filling you as you’d hoped, you feel the sharp sting of the flat of Tommy’s hand against your pussy, the thick ring on his finger sending a jolt through your sensitive clit. You let out an indignant cry and try to rub your thighs together to alleviate the twinge of pain, growling in annoyance when you’re blocked by Tommy’s leg between yours.

“Little bit?” he mocks from his spot behind you, smoothing his hand threateningly over the globe of your ass. “Shall I get one of my brothers to fuck you, love?”

“My sincerest apologies, Mister Shelby,” you hiss over your shoulder. “I need your long, thick, perfect cock inside me. Please,” you’re quick to tack on.

“Better.” He presses a kiss to your delicate lips before cracking his hand against your flesh. You whimper at the duality of the sensations, desperate to feel his mouth on you again and excited to see the bright red imprint of his hand on your cheek tomorrow morning. The wooden legs of the chair squeak against the floor as Tommy stands abruptly, and you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance. “But next time without the attitude.”

You nod dumbly, overwhelmed by your need for him and ready to vocalize this very thought when a knock sounds at the office door.

“Enter,” Tommy calls, sheathing himself inside you with one sharp thrust as Arthur’s broad frame fills the doorway. Your jaw falls slack and your eyes roll back at the exquisite stretch, a strangled moan catching in your throat.

“You bastard,” the eldest Shelby laughs, “you’ve stolen everyone’s favorite barmaid during the rush of the afternoon.”

“She’s serving me quite well, Arthur,” Tommy cracks easily in response. With the way your man brags about you, you’re sure the three oldest Shelby brothers possess more knowledge about your most intimate bits than even you do, but still you feel your skin grow hot at Arthur having found you in such a compromising position. You try to tuck your face into your shoulder for even a modicum of modesty, but Tommy yanks on your hair and forces your head up as he maintains a steady rocking of his hips, pathetic mewls falling past your lips every time he bottoms out and your knuckles turning white from your tight grip on the desk.

“You realize,” Arthur starts with a wicked grin, “the door says Shelby Company Limited, don’t you, Tommy? And Johnny and I are very much part of this company.”

Tommy barks out a laugh that holds no humor. “You boys so much as lay a finger on my girl and you’ll be in the Cut before your next breath.” The low growl of his voice and his overt possessiveness has your walls fluttering around him, and Tommy folds over you to speak directly in your ear. “Tell him who you belong to.”

You lift your gaze to meet Arthur’s with a gleam in your eye as Tommy picks up his pace, forcing you to raise your voice over the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours. “I belong to Tommy.”

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, using it as leverage to pound into you even harder and commands, “Louder.”

You barely register the door slamming shut as you clench around Tommy’s cock, his warm release painting your walls as your own juices flow down your thighs and you come undone with the declaration, “I belong to Thomas Shelby!”

He presses a line of gentle kisses along your spine while your body writhes beneath him in the aftershocks of your afternoon tryst. “That’s my girl,” he praises, tenderly stroking your hair. “That’s my good little girl.”

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gojhoes · 4 months

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Sunglasses Indoors, Par For The Course

a/n: I posted a few days ago about an idea in which Gojo and Geto are first-years and reader is a fourth-year and they compete for your attention. WELL. here it is, it's pretty much sfw just descriptions of making out. Hope you enjoy!

- contents: mainly Gojo x reader, implied Geto x reader, reader is a fourth-year, Gojo and Geto are first-years, original male characters, descriptions of kissing, mutual pining (kind of) - wc: 2.1k

The moment Gojo had stepped foot onto Jujutsu High’s Tokyo campus, he’d completely and hopelessly fallen in love with you.

It was such a clichè, the freshman falling for the pretty senior girl. You were quick-witted, confident, and so fucking beautiful that even Gojo found it hard to look at you. You had him completely wrapped around your finger, even if neither of you knew it.

What you didn’t know was that Gojo and Geto were competing against the other to see who could win your favor. And neither of the boys liked to lose. However, you caught on very quickly to the crushes that both of them had on you. Maybe it was narcissistic, but you were used to the stares and special attention you received from most boys that you interacted with. And you couldn’t say that it wasn’t fun.

The new stock of first-years were rumored to be an impressive bunch, but you were most interested in meeting the afamed Gojo boy with the Six Eyes.

The first day of your fourth year had begun as any other. You had one classmate, Masato Yamada, who already was out on a mission by himself. The second- and third-years had their own agendas to attend to, so you wouldn’t be seeing them until much later in the day. You took to the school’s outdoor track, doing laps and sweating profusely from the intense morning humidity. It was then that you caught sight of three figures scurrying down the concrete stairs that descended into the field. You finished a lap and jogged over to welcome them, as it was customary to greet your new underclassmen.

Upon closer observation, the shortest figure was a brown-haired girl with an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. The next was a tall, dark-haired boy with his hands shoved casually into his pockets. He was laughing lightly at the something the other boy had said. And that boy, judging from the snow white of his hair, was none other than the holder of the Six Eyes.

You introduced yourself with a smile and a small wave. “Hello, first years.”

Greetings were exchanged duly and you shook each of their hands respectively. Shoko smiled, and you immediately liked her relaxed nature. The two boys looked at you with eyes as wide as saucers, to which you chuckled. There may as well have been hearts floating above their heads.

“Satoru Gojo,” you repeated the white- haired boy’s name slowly, pretending to ponder it philosophically. “Quite a name for the world’s strongest. Though I guess we’ll see if any of that grandeur is warranted.”

Gojo let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t be surprised when I surpass you. If I haven’t already.”

The dark-haired boy, Geto, seemed to snap out of his daze at that moment. “Satoru, she’s a semi-grade 1.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, but you noticed the way his eyes clung to your figure behind those sunglasses. Your workout clothes consisted of skin-tight leggings and a jacket that accuentated your waist. You enjoyed the attention, but a (very) small part of you uncharacteristically felt a little flustered under his gaze.

After that, the two first-years seemed to trail behind you wherever you went. You found it cute and endearing, though you took very special care not to cross the line that both of the boys trampled every day. You were older, already 18 and would be graduating to live on your own in a matter of months. They were technically still children with years of schooling ahead of them. It would be wrong of you to engage any of their endless and obvious advances.

However, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t difficult.

“Satoru,” you cooed, smiling widely.

The official rule was that no male students were allowed in the girls’ dorms after 11pm. But with the scarce population of students and even fewer faculty members, there was little risk of getting caught. Masato was 19 and therefore able to purchase alcohol, and he’d graciously acquired two 12-packs of beer for you and his dear underclassmen to share. He enforced the title of Everyone’s Favorite Upperclassman, requiring a verbal recitement of said title before relinquishing a beverage.

It had been a night of card games, laughter, disgusting warm beer, and plethoras of shared snacks. Such a stark contrast to the depressing normalcy you had grown accustomed to over the last four years. Your eyes landed on Satoru when you dawned on the realization that there may be never another night like it.

Geto slept in your bed on his back with his mouth wide open, cuddling the stuffed cat you’d had since you were a child. This left you and Satoru alone, sharing the large blue bean bag you had propped in the corner of your room. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him and the two of you laid side by side staring at the ceiling. Your arm was pressed flush against his and your hair laid tangled with his own. You were vaguely aware of that line you swore you would never cross. It was right there in between the few inches that separated his fingers and yours.

“Hey,” Gojo said.

You turned your head to face him. He’d abandoned his glasses sometime during the night, leaving his blue eyes exposed. Your noses were just inches apart, so you were able to really see the crystalline brilliance of his irises. But you didn’t move toward him, still honoring that invisible line even if it felt like you were beginning to toe it.

“Hey.”

You were feeling more confident than usual from the few beers you’d consumed over the last several hours. Warmth surged through your limbs and chest, and you found yourself giggling over every little thing. You also engaged in more physical touch with your friends than normal. Hence how you’d ended up nearly sitting in Gojo’s lap and were doing absolutely nothing to move away.

It was becoming more and more of struggle to remain conscious of your dividing line the more time you spent with Satoru. He was charming, albeit a little annoying, with beauty that was impossible to ignore. And here he was, his face right in front of yours. So close that you could feel his breath fanning your lashes and see the smallest trail of saliva painting his pink lips.

“What are you gonna do after you graduation?”

You let out a brief laugh devoid of warmth. There were two options for sorcerers: stay and devote your life, or run and try to assimilate back into normal life. Now that you were approaching the finish line, neither choice sounded great, and frankly, you weren't going to kill your buzz by trying to think of the future.

“There’s no sorcerer college,” you replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Sooo, I’ll just stay here and work and bother all of you guys.”

Before Satoru could get the chance to respond, another thought surfaced and without your normal filter, it slipped right out.

“I’ll never get a meet-cute with the love of my life,” you whined melodramatically. “No college boys for me.”

Satoru hummed, his expression unreadable as he averted his eyes.

“Nah, you’re too good for them anyway.”

Your lips curled into a tantalizing smirk.

“Too good?” You repeated. "Do you have a crush on me, Satoru Gojo?"

You felt him stiffen beside you, and suddenly you worried that you might’ve struck a nerve. He sat up, propping his head up with an elbow on his thigh. You followed suit, preparing to apologize and tell him you were joking, until you noticed his half-lidded gaze trained directly on yours.

The apology turned to ashes in your mouth when you realized Satoru’s knee was flush against your inner thigh. You watched his eyes flick to your lips as his hand melted to the side of your face in a gentle encouragement to tilt your head. The line you vowed never to cross was shattering as your eyes slipped shut. And then his lips were pressing softly against yours after a hitched breath escaped from your mouth. You sat stunned and motionless, able only to gawk at him as he pulled away.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Satoru whispered with a cheeky grin.

A second passed while your brain caught up to the present. You reached up and fisted the fabric of his collar to roughly pull his face back to yours. This time, your lips crashed into his and you felt a pair of hands jump to your waist, pulling your body closer. A thrilling wave of heat surged through your chest as you lost yourself in his touch. Satoru’s fingers dug into your skin as you felt the slightest flick of his tongue on your lower lip. He was teasing, hesitating, testing to see just how far you wanted to go. As though it was as necessary as air, you deepened the kiss and slid your free hand to the back of his head.

It was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. Satoru kissed you with a hunger that you returned without hesitation. You slid your fingers through his soft white locks, pulling on them lightly but with enough force to keep him in place. His teeth grazed your lower lip once, once against testing your reaction. You moved the hand in which you’d been holding his collar to rest on his upper thigh, and he rewarded you by sinking his teeth into the plush of your lip.

After what had felt like an hour of kissing, Satoru broke away from you, but his eyes remained on yours. You were captivated by the expression in them, as he was looking at you as though no one else in the world existed. You thought of the millions of units of information that he saw at all times. Everything all at once, all the time, yet right then, his focus was being completely directed at you. A horrifying theory that this was more than just a crush plagued your mind, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You were more afraid that he was going to step away and leave, telling you that kissing you had been a mistake.

Satoru cradled the back of your head, urging you to lie down on the bean bag once more. He leaned over you and returned his grip to your hips as his mouth met yours once again. Your chest was flush against his, and you reached up to run your hands along the expanse of his shoulders. You tried to tug him impossibly closer, though it must have been a little too hard, because one of his hands shot out to steady himself before he could fall. You giggled into his mouth and you felt him smile against yours.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t make yourself pull away or push him off of you. The only thing you felt was relief with each meeting of your tongues and shared quickened breath. You brought your hands to Satoru’s waist as silent instruction for him to swing his leg over yours-

And then Suguru murmured something loudly in his sleep, snapping you out of your kiss-drunken haze with a gasp. Both you and Satoru jumped away from each other as though you’d been zapped with static electricity. Your eyes met worriedly, and you let out a unified giggle.

Fuck that line, the line that you’d drawn from decency and responsibility. That line was irrevocably destroyed.

***

“Suguru.”

Silence.

“Hey.”

Satoru’s friend did not stir, his chest continuing to rise and fall passively despite Satoru’s attempts to rouse him. Nothing was more important than the message he was about to deliver.

“Suguruuuuu.”

Clearly his current methods were proving fruitless. A figurative lightbulb went off in Satoru’s head. He touched the tip of his index finger to his tongue and stuck it directly inside of Suguru’s ear.

Suguru jolted wildly and his dark eyes flew open as he let fly a string of curses.

“What are you doing?” he cried, his voice thick with drowsiness.

Gojo grinned wide and cheeky, completely disregarding the seething glare being sent by his friend.

“I made out with her,” Gojo said. “I win.”

Still recovering from his unpleasantly abrupt awakening, Geto rubbed at his eyes and stared blankly at the other boy.

"What?”

Gojo groaned and said your name loudly.

"The bet, Suguru," he elaborated. "I. Win."

Geto caught on at the mention of your name and let out an irritated sigh.

"When?" he asked, not totally convinced and still holding out hope.

Satoru's grin only grew wider as he relayed the previous night's events. It was a triumph he was going to revel in until his last waking moment.

“Uhhh last night. After everyone went to bed.”

Suguru made a face. “Right there next to me while I was sleeping?”

“Yeah, but you’re a really heavy sleeper so it’s okay.”

Suguru groaned and flopped onto his back in the bed.

"One day," he muttered. "I am going to kill you."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo #suguru geto #fluff #jjk fluff #satoru x you fluff

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happilyhertale · 5 months

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Sweet dreams – Tom Bennett x female!reader

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Summary: Like every night, Tom sneaks into your room so you can have some togetherness. But after you've fallen asleep, he suddenly has other things on his mind than letting you sleep.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fingering, dirty talk

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

Tom lies in the warm bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, a silent observer of the dance of shadows. Sleep eludes him, and the cigarette dangling casually between his lips releases a delicate stream of smoke with each puff, enveloping him. Outside, a relentless snowfall rages, enveloping the world in a serene white embrace.

However, the pristine beauty of the snow presented a challenge, making it difficult to climb up the façade to your window. But just seeing you standing at the top spurred him on, and every near slip was just a fleeting obstacle on the way to you.

His gaze wanders thoughtfully to the window. The glow of a distant street lamp falls into the room and casts a soft light on his outline. You lie next to him, your form turned away, and your rhythmic breaths create a soothing rhythm. The calm lulled you into a peaceful slumber after he made you cum on his cock, a subtle smile gracing your lips as you sank into the depths of dreams.

But as he listens to the soft murmur that escapes your lips, followed by a gentle sigh, his attention turns back to you. He watches your form, from your shoulders to your waist, until his gaze remains fixed on your ass – until you mumble something again.

Was that a "Tommy"?

He leans towards the bedside table for a moment, puts out his cigarette and then turns to you. His face finds its usual place in the crook of your neck, he inhales your sweet scent, which almost drives him crazy.

His hand slides under the blanket, covering your body with caresses until he gently caresses your bum. You haven't put your panties back on yet, his hand has free rein. You stir slightly, but your eyes are still closed, lost in your sweet dream. He savours your soft skin and how he can snuggle up to your body almost perfectly. Gentle kisses adorn your neck as his fingers continue to caress you. Until you suddenly moan softly in your sleep. Very softly, almost inaudibly.

He starts to knead the soft flesh of your bum, gripping it lightly. His face is still pressed into the crook of your neck as you whimper lightly in your sleep. A slight grin now forms on his lips. The soft, sweet sounds leaving your lips make the desire inside him rise.

His hand glides around your body. It reaches purposefully between your legs and he lets it slide gently through your already wet folds. Your whimpers get louder.

"Hmm... already so wet for me," he murmurs into your neck. A sigh leaves your lips as his fingers find your sensitive bundle of nerves. Gentle but firm movements are left by his fingers and you begin to move your hips slightly.

He nibbles lightly on your neck as the movements of his fingers quicken. Your eyes flutter open as his fingers begin to lightly tease your entrance.

"Tommy," you gasp.

But Tom only grunts slightly, letting his fingers enter you slightly.

"I couldn't resist, love... You were already so wet..." he whispers.

You whimper again as his fingers penetrate you deeper. Your hips start to move towards his fingers, hoping they would thrust deeper.

You bite your lip to stifle a moan so your parents in the other room don't get suspicious

"Tell me what you were dreaming about, Love," Tommy whispers suddenly. For a moment, a slight irritation crosses your face as your breathing becomes heavier. A low moan fills your room as his fingers thrusts deeper.

"You made such sweet whimpers in your sleep..." he continues to whisper.

He slips another finger in, rubbing just the right places. You gasp slightly, your eyes closed. You've been dreaming about Tommy visiting you at night and you spending wonderful hours together – like he really does every night.

"I-I've been dreaming about you, Tommy," you gasp.

He growls slightly as he hears your words, "About me? What were you dreaming about, Love?" he grunts lightly. You feel his hard cock pressing harder and harder against your bum and you whimper again.

"Of your tongue Tommy... How you make me come.. with your tongue..." you whimper.

Tom chuckles softly. His thumb begins to tease your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers rub over the rough patch deep inside you again and again.

You moan softly, biting into the pillow beneath you, your thighs begin to tremble slightly.

"Mmm, you'll have to make do with my fingers now... Is that okay, love?" he whispers.

But you can't answer – you feel your climax approaching and Tom‘s fingers thrusting into you faster. You're breathing heavily.

"Love? Is that okay... if I make you come with my fingers? When I thrust them deep inside you? Rub your sweet clit until your pussy clenches around my fingers... because she doesn't want to let go of my fingers?" Tom murmurs in your ear, nibbling gently on your earlobe. But again you don't answer, fearing that only a moan will leave your lips.

"But the way you're soaking my fingers, I'll take that as a yes..." he continues to murmur.

And that's enough. You literally cry out into the pillow as Tom pushes his fingers further into your spasming pussy.

He gently kisses your neck, "That's it, love... Enjoy it..." he whispers. The movements of his fingers slowly subside. You breathe heavily as the warm feeling floods your body and slowly subsides.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper slightly in response. As you look over your shoulder, you see him licking his fingers clean. You blush slightly.

"Tommy..." you whisper and slowly turn towards him. But he just grins and pulls you closer to him.

"Don't be so shy, love. You know you taste delicious... After all, you always kiss me when I've made you come with my tongue," he whispers.

"Tom!" you gasp, but he just chuckles slightly and pulls you closer to him.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @bellaisasleep @snh96 @echos-muses @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr

#12daysofsmuff #12 days of smuff #tom bennett #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fluff #world on fire #ewan mitchell #aemond #tom bennett x reader #tom bennet x reader #tom bennett world on fire #tom bennett fic #tom bennett x oc #ewanverse

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hey-august · 16 days

Text

Miles above, it’s so serene

A/N: This didn't win in the poll, but I just couldn't let the idea go! (See the smuttier fic here.)

Word count: ~1.4k Warnings: Pretty much SFW, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, partaking in the devil's lettuce 🍃, buggy is smitten, talks of sex but it doesn't happen, bit o fluff at the end

Title from "High as a Kite" by Weezer

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Cheers, shouts, and laughter from the pub spilled into the night street every time the door opened. A soft breeze carried the chatter and echoing footsteps, picking up the smoke from your group on the way. The edge of the glowing pool of light from the pub was the perfect spot to stand in a circle and bullshit about nothing.

A lighter clicked, creating a red cherry that flared as one person inhaled. The roll passed to the next hand and the ember burned bright, before making its way to your hand. You took a shallow drag, pulling in just enough to maintain your comfortable buzz, before continuing the chain.

Raunchy jokes, lonely laments, agitated frustrations, and casual gossip bounced around the circle. Lobbies and spikes were unpredictable. New topics and responses overlapped to create a tightly bound weave between the crew. When one pirate beckoned a newcomer to join the pod, the rest of the group shuffled aside to make room. The empty space was filled by your captain.

While extremely common for Buggy to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his mates, he was usually found in the pub draining bottle after bottle. Periodically, in certain crowds, he could be found with a cigarette dangling from his lips. It was rare, nearly fable, for him to choose to bond in a hazy cloud. And yet, there he was, standing next to you and effortlessly sliding into conversations like he had been here the whole time.

Soon it was time for your next hit. The roll sat between your fingers as you finished sharing a heated thought about the recent meals. It was a complaint that nearly everyone onboard had said at some point, yet you felt an odd strain emanating from your side. From your captain.

“...it’s whatever, really. Doesn’t actually matter, I guess.”

You wrapped up the venting with a non-committal comment, hoping it might ease the subtle tension that only you seemed to sense. Maybe it was all in your head, so you set to work filling the space with smoke. You exhaled slowly and held out the roll for Buggy to take next, half expecting him to pass.

You were surprised when he nearly snatched his turn from your hand and took a hard drag, the unseen pressure finally relaxing. Watching the smoke drift from Buggy’s painted mouth as he spoke, you found a way to wheedle your way into his conversation. There was something intriguing and novel about seeing your captain like this, and you needed an excuse to stare.

It quickly became clear that this was not an activity Buggy participated in frequently. His comments became looser and his booming laughter had him bumping against you more frequently. Buggy’s personality was infectious. When one of his hands clasped your shoulder as he doubled over in laughter, it brought out your own fit of joy.

A new roll began its trip around the group. Still comfortable with your buzz, you took another shallow inhale. Buggy, on the other hand, pulled the ember ever closer and refilled his lungs with more unfiltered air than they were used to. Focused on himself, the captain missed the glances and suppressed smiles that flitted around the group.

You accepted the non-verbal remarks when your turn came around again. This time, you passed.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head back. Captain, wanna walk back with me?”

“Heh, afraid of the dark?” he teased. “Sure, who better to protect you than the guy who ate the chop-chop fruit. No one will screw with us.”

You smiled, pleased that the plan worked. The warmth of the achievement flickered briefly when you realized that the roll hadn’t passed both of you yet. There was a possibility he’d take another hit, which is what you were hoping to avoid. The pirate standing on Buggy’s other side caught your eye and reached over to remove the obstacle. With the roll continuing it’s journey, you and Buggy left the group to start your own.

The walk to the ship was illuminated by the full moon. The ocean was calm, just barely rolling over the small stones on the shore. A soft wind followed you both, whispering through the palm trees and sea grass. With each step, you both continued talking and laughing.

Buggy’s comments started drifting more frequently. He’d end with trailing thoughts, repeat himself, and launch into conversations that started in his head. It was endearing. You were more than content to follow along, watching to see how high he’d float.

“Y’know, I wish we weren’t walking back together,” Buggy drawled, clearly saying the thought as it appeared in his head.

You stayed silent, waiting to see if he’d elaborate. Did he not want to head back yet? Or did he want to walk with someone else?

“Not tonight, you know? I wouldn’t be able to consent to anything. I want to, but I can’t.”

Despite his continued babbling, you still couldn’t follow the thread he was dangling in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

Buggy turned to face you, leaving his feet to continue walking forwards to the ship.

“If we were to do something back on the ship,” he said, with a tinge of annoyance that he had to explain something that was only obvious to him. “Something,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

You bit back a laugh and nodded along.

“You and me, having sex together. Something. But I couldn’t consent like this.” Buggy emphasized his point by spreading his arms wide. “I wish I could, though. With you. I like you.”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows. This was not how you expected the walk back to go. You rubbed your face, massaging your cheeks which would not relax or let go of the ecstatic smile hidden under your hand.

Buggy continued to prattle on, sharing all the things he likes about you. Observations that you didn’t think he noticed. Compliments that fill your stomach with butterflies. You captured your captain’s attention long ago and his list was long. From your fiery temper to your soothing smile, the way your hair caught the sunlight, how you smelled like the ocean, the scratch in your voice when you sang sea shanties, the shape of your hands, and so much more.

The monologue wrapped with another repeated lament about his inability to safely agree to sex. Buggy’s shoulders drooped and he hung over in remorse as he reconnected with his feet and turned away from you. He was adorably pathetic. Truly a clown.

“I like you too, captain. I promise not to take advantage of you, though.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

The rest of the walk was uneventful after that moment. If anything, it was as if the confessions didn’t happen. Buggy grew quieter and retreated into himself as you two boarded the ship. You knew that he was losing his hold and becoming untethered. It can be scary to feel like you’d float away, so you continued to fill the silence as you guided the captain back to his quarters.

“Fuck, why is the ship swaying so much?” Buggy whined, flopping into his unmade bed.

You talked through the laughter that threatened to slip out. “It isn’t. The sea is calm, remember?”

Buggy groaned dramatically and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Everything keeps moving when I close my eyes.”

“Keep one leg off the bed.” You slapped one of his boot-clad feet, prompting him to let it fall to the ground with a thud. “Does that help?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” Buggy stayed silent for a moment, breathing deeply. “It helps a little.”

You were only going to hang around until Buggy fell asleep. With how quickly the smoke consumed him, it shouldn’t take long. However, the night had other plans.

You found yourself waking up in the captain’s bed, with the sounds of your own sleepy breathing fading from your head. Moonlight seeped into the room, but not as much as when you were last awake. Both of you were still wearing the clothes from earlier and laying on top of his sheets.

In your hand was Buggy’s own, fingers entwined. Flattered heartbeats returned to your chest, nearly aching with how hard they started. As the content feeling flooded through your body, you gave a tentative squeeze. This was real. This was all real. While part of you was eager to know what tomorrow would bring, you also wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

A moment later, you felt the comforting hold on your hand squeeze back.

#buggy fluff #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

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kyovtani · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐊.𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 (𝟏)

✗ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✗ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭; 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫!𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

✗ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟑.𝟐𝐤

✗ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐨/𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫*𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐜*𝐡𝐨𝐥; 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐱/𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭: 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐠/𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐬 , 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦/𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮/𝐬𝐬𝐲), 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝/𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐨/𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

✗ 𝐀/𝐍: !𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭! 𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 (𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒!!!) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐞 <𝟑

✗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭…

“Mad has pink hair”, is the first thing to leave Oikawa Tooru’s mouth when his fellow bandmate and best friend enters their practice room half an hour later than usual.

At the mention of the lead singer, your head almost brutally whips to the side and nervously searches for the sight your best friend has just pointed out. And, as you let out a shaky sigh, you try to keep your composure as best as you can but just as usual, this turns out to be a bigger struggle than you make it to be.

However, despite the intensity of Kyoutani Kentarou’s dominant and strong aura, you can't stop yourself from letting your gaze subtly roam his tall figure.

His body is covered in dark leather from head to toe, the only colored part of his appearance being his freshly dyed pastel pink hair; tons of chains casually dangling from his waistband but also adorning his tattoo covered neck. Your eyes find their way to his strong hands, the dark lines on his tanned, veiny skin sending shivers down your spine and within a second, you catch yourself thinking about the mental image of having them wrapped around your throat.

You feel yourself getting flustered at the mere thought of doing such lewd things with the lead singer, yet every single night it’s him you think of when your hand finds its way into your drenched panties, regardless of how much he intimidates you.

A soft sigh falls past your lips when his strong scent, a mixture of cigarette smoke and citrus, hits your senses in the best way possible. However, that exact scent easily pulls you back into reality.

By the time you find your way out of your arousal filled haze, you’re quick to notice two pairs of eyes boring into you from the side.

“Why don’t you just take a p- ouch, Iwa!”, Oikawa’s soft voice breaks into a whine at his best friend’s elbow hitting his stomach in a rather harsh way and for the nth time within just an hour, you’re grateful for Iwaizumi’s presence and ability to keep the pretty guitarist in his lane.

“Sorry, little one”, Hajime mumbles and rolls his eyes, his fingers pulling the little cigarette from behind his ears before he gently lays it in between his lips and lights it right after, “he’s even more talkative than usual.”

“It’s okay-”, “I’m sorry for being late, guys, traffic was a pain in the ass as usual”, Kyoutani’s deep, raspy voice easily overtones your weak attempt at voicing out your gratitude towards Iwa and you hate, yet love the effect he has on you.

You don’t even care that he blatantly interrupted or hasn’t even made the effort to at least glance at you. Just the mere thought of his presence as close to you as possible is everything you need and want.

And you’re very much aware just how pathetic you are, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to deny anything regarding Kyoutani Kentarou anymore.

After knowing him for as long as you do, you’ve finally come to accept his rather negative or neutral, both equally bad, feelings towards you.

It’s been literal years since Iwaizumi, your childhood best friend and neighbor, had introduced you to his grumpy bandmate yet nothing has changed ever since.

Kyoutani’s never even tried to like or get to know you, despite the large amount of time you spent with him and the other guys.

In the beginning you struggled a lot with his distant attitude, your brain making sure to plant the thought of his distance towards you being your weight and your general physical appearance but as the years went by, you just grew used to it. Back then, he used to startle you whenever he started talking, whereas now you just enjoy the soothing sound of his raspy voice.

You can’t remember when exactly you had developed the huge and disgusting crush on the lead singer with the buzzcut, you just know that at one point you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It didn’t take long for you to realize just how bad you had fallen for him — a guy who made it seem like talking to or just looking at you was pure torture.

Iwa was also rather quick to notice your shy glances and dreamy stares towards his tattoo clad best friend.

But he waited until you came and talked to him about it, knowing you needed the time to process your own feelings before he got indirectly involved.

To his, and probably your own surprise too, you told him to never ever mention anything when Kyoutani is around. You simply didn’t and still don’t want him to know with the sole intentions of saving your own heart. You’ve had enough guys break your heart or take advantage of you because of your bigger body, you certainly don’t want to go through another one of those heartbreaks.

Because after everything, one thing won’t ever change — Kentarou doesn’t like you.

A harsh fact you’re very much aware of, which is why you definitely don’t need him to explicitly voice it out and make you feel even worse about yourself than you already do.

And you definitely like the little fake image of him, which you’ve created in your head over the past few years way too much to let go just yet.

So, just as usual, you calmly avert your gaze to the floor and let out a soft sigh before you let yourself get back to reality.

“Don’t worry about it”, Iwaizumi replies calmly, running one of his ring clad hands through his thick hair as he approaches the pink haired lead singer, “Tadashi’s sucking off Terushima in the storage room, so we can’t get started anyway”, he casually adds, eliciting a groan of annoyance from Kyoutani, but soft giggles from you.

“I woke up horny so I didn’t last as long as usual, big boy”, Terushima, the band’s drummer and Kyoutani’s best friend, suddenly exclaims as he strolls out of the door at the very back of the practice room, followed by his freckled boyfriend, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“We said no more blowjobs in the storage room, Teru”, Kentarou scolds the drummer, softly knocking the fake blonde’s head to the side as he comes to stand in front of him, “there are always cum stains everywhere and you never clean up after yourself, you fucking cunt.”

“Always with the swearing, I swear to God..”, Oikawa sighs and rolls his eyes as he puts his hair into a little bun before grabbing his guitar with care.

“Jokes on you, I cum in my bunny’s mouth, all the way down his pretty throat. He’s the one who likes to get messy”, Terushima shamelessly replies, his response making all of you let out growls of annoyance and slight disgust because of its lewdness.

“Yuuji!”, Tadashi finally intervenes, freckled cheeks tainted in the deepest shades of red as his boyfriend’s choice of words leaves him flustered.

“Was that TMI?”, this time he looks directly at you and without missing a beat, you nod.

“Of fucking course it was, you little piece of-”, “That’s enough, you little fuckers. Let’s just get started with practice already, we’ve got an important gig soon”, Iwaizumi is the one to take the lead; his naturally dominant aura making it way easier for him to handle two personalities as strong as theirs.

“Oh, my Goodness– yes! I just know this time we’re gonna get that producer to listen to our tracks and put us under his label and after that we’re going to get big. I can feel it in my cock”, Oikawa replies, his pretty eyes gleaming with excitement as he talks about his biggest dream.

You can’t help but smile at the way neither of the boys say anything, knowing all of them think- or hope for the exact same thing to happen. After all, they've been working towards this exact dream for literal years now.

And now that they’ve finally gotten such a good opportunity, it’s been a lot more stressful and nerve-wrecking than they had expected it to be. This isn’t the first time said producer’s going to watch the boys perform live, but this performance is going to be their last chance to show him their potential.

You don’t know what’s going on with Kyoutani but you know the other three boys are basically just piles of anxiety and nervousness after months of waiting for this day to come around.

“You’re right, Zumi”, Kyoutani sighs and takes off his heavy leather coat, exposing his toned body to your hungry eyes and without even hesitating, you let your eyes take in the sight of his black shirt basically clinging to his torso.

However, just when he’s about to keep talking, your eyes fall to his right hand and at the sudden sight of his bruised, partly even blood covered knuckles and fingers, you can’t help but let out an audible gasp.

“What?”, Terushima quickly reacts to you, his eyes roaming your face nervously before the other boys, including Kyoutani, turn their heads to look at you.

“Your uhm- your knuckles”, your voice is a mere whisper, the lead singer’s intimidating gaze making your heart pound against your rib cage, “you’re bleeding.”

Kyoutani tilts his head to the side before he lifts his right hand up, obviously not even remembering his little injury as he nods and just shrugs it off.

“What the fuck happened, Kenta?”, Iwaizumi hisses, approaching the younger one with concern-filled eyes before he comes to stand in front of him.

“It’s not a big deal”, said singer just replies, pulls himself out of his best friend’s grip and moves to grab one of the water bottles you had set on a random chair when you arrived, “I got into a fight with my...him. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

You gulp harshly at his words; instant memories of Kyoutani’s current situation at home flashing up in your mind and easily sending shivers of discomfort down your spine.

He doesn’t talk about it with you, of course he doesn’t. But from what Hajime and Tooru have said, you know that Kyoutani has always been struggling with his family due to several reasons.

You don’t know as much as you’d like to, but you’d rather not dig further into something, especially if the possibility of Kyoutani getting mad at you knowing about his life is potentially high.

“Bro”, Terushima lets out a deep sigh, his pierced brows furrowed in anger and a soft blush grazing the apples of his cheeks as he takes his best friend’s face into his big hands, “you have to move out. Take your mother and the girls and get the fuck out of there or else he’s going to make you kill him.”

You attentively watch the way Kyoutani’s whole body tenses up at the drummer’s words, his hands balled into tight fists and his jaw visibly clenching.

The heavy tension in the air feels suffocating; breathing properly suddenly seems like a whole challenge and with one glance at Yamaguchi, you know you’re not the only one to feel that way.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that when he’s not letting them go, Teru? Every time I tell my mother to pack her and the girls’ fucking bags, he threatens her with some kind of shit and makes her back out of it”, Kyoutani presses through gritted teeth, the volume of his voice steadily growing the more the madness seems to take over him.

“And besides that”, he sighs, “it’s not like we have anywhere to go. Neither of you can take us in and I simply can’t get us a new apartment because I don’t have any money”, and suddenly, you feel your heartbeat picking up its pace with such intensity, you feel it thrumming in your throat.

It takes you a good minute to calm yourself down, the thoughts racing through your mind are easily sending you into a heavy bliss of anxiety and nervousness.

However, before any of the guys can say anything or you get the chance to overthink that one thought in your head, your body acts before your mind can follow.

“You could stay at my place”, you throw into the silence of the big practice room; your voice a lot steadier than you expected it to be, “my sibling just moved out and I have a spare room your mum and sisters could stay in”, you explain with your gaze falling to the floor when the fear of Kyoutani’s reaction overwhelms you.

“What? Are you serious? Don’t you dare fuck with me, Y/N”, he suddenly hisses; his brows furrowing even further and the way he comes closer to you has you gulping harshly.

It’s not even necessarily his choice of words but the general fact he’s even directly talking to you, which has your head spinning from the heaviness of your anxiety.

“Watch your language when you speak to her, Kenta”, Iwaizumi adds, quickly coming to stand next to you, knowing his other best friend has a tendency to let his emotions take over his rational thinking.

“Yes”, you say quickly, finally getting yourself to actually lift your head and meet his strong gaze, only to look away after a solid second because of the intensity of his stare, “I am either at work or campus most of the time and barely have anyone come over, so I don’t really mind having you guys there. And you don’t have to give me any money, either. My parents bought us the apartment before they passed away, so I don’t have to pay for rent anyway.”

Kyoutani listens to your every word, his eyes rapidly roaming your face as you speak before he lets out a loud sigh of relief, followed by his facial features softening in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“That’s uhm- that’s really kind. Thank you, Y/N”, he sighs and when his lips suddenly stretch into a genuine, sweet smile to the point that his dimples appear on each side of his cheeks, you can’t help but look at him in complete shock.

“Of…course”, you smile back awkwardly, pulling at your fingers and trying your best to calm your heart and mind down, “I know how it feels to live in an abusive household, so I’m always happy to help someone escape from one.”

In response to your words, silence fills the room.

And that’s when you realize that, different than usual, you actually mentioned something this significant about yourself to someone other than Iwaizumi.

You feel the anxiety crippling up your spine in the most disgusting way possible; a shaky exhale falling past your lips as your body desperately tries to calm your rushing mind down.

“Anyway”, you suddenly say, nervously scratching your neck while lifting your head to meet Kyoutani’s slightly overwhelmed gaze, “how about you tell your Mum to pack her stuff so we can pick her and the girls up and bring them to my flat? I’ll make sure to make them feel at home, I promise.”

You don’t really know why or how you managed to form all those sentences when Kyoutani Kentarou, the guy you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for years, is standing so close and is actually talking to you. However, you definitely like the warmth spreading in your chest and the pride filling your veins when you think about all those times you oh so desperately wanted to talk to him, but let your anxiety get the best of you.

But, none of that changes the fact that your heart is brutally slamming against your rib cage, thrumming in your ears with such high volume, you struggle to hear your own words properly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? My youngest sister is three years old and the other one just turned five, so I don’t know if you really want to deal with kids after such long days”, Kyoutani mumbles, running his tattooed hand over his freshly dyed buzz cut before he starts playing with the rings on his fingers.

You can’t help but smile at his behavior. The usually so cold and distant Mad Dog, a nickname Oikawa gave him years ago, turning into this sweet, flustered little puppy right in front of you is definitely not something you’ve expected to witness any time soon.

“I like children and they usually like me”, you smile encouragingly, “so yes, I am sure I’m okay with this. Give her a call and tell her we’ll be there after you guys finish practicing. We can grab some food on the way and maybe some snacks for the girls because I only have instant ramen noodles and two bananas in my kitchen right now”, you continue, earning a loud groan of disappointment from your best friend who loves to spend his time scolding you for your awful eating habits.

“Alright then, I’ll do that really quick and – thank you, Y/N. I appreciate this a lot”, Kyoutani gives you one last smile of gratitude before he pulls his phone out of his pocket, quickly sticking a cigarette in between his lips as he exits the practice room to talk to his mother.

And as soon as the pink haired lead singer disappears, you let go of the breath you’ve been holding subconsciously.

“Damn, little one”, Oikawa suddenly says, throwing his arm over your shoulder and casually pinching your chubby cheeks with his slim, ring clad fingers, “you’re finally gonna get a chance to suck his cock just like you’ve been imagining it.”

“Oh, fuck off, Tooru”, you hiss through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes at his words before you push him away from you.

“He’s kinda right, though”, this time it’s Yamaguchi’s soft voice which gently cuts through the silence in the practice room and with your eyebrows raised in utter shock, you turn to face the freckled boy, “don’t get me wrong, I am not saying you’re gonna jump his bones now. But you’re getting to spend some more time with him alone and at some point he won’t have a choice but to talk to you, so the two of you might get closer”, he explains, his words making it even easier for your brain to create a row of fake scenarios and without replying anything, you nod softly.

“Or you just tell him you want him to father your children and boom, case solved.”

At Yuuji’s take on the situation, the whole room grows silent, yet again. Only Tadashi reacts by giving him a soft kiss on the lips before the others continue to get their instruments ready.

“I’ve told you this a couple of times but he doesn’t hate you, I promise”, Iwa continues after a beat of silence had filled the room, “especially not after this, so stop being so fucking shy about it.”

At the persistent tone of his voice, you can’t help but look at Iwaizumi with furrowed brows since he’s never been like this when it came to your not so little crush on his bandmate.

But before you can even question it in any way, the front door is being opened again and you watch the front singer walk back inside.

When Kyoutani returns, a big smile is planted on his face and literal relief gleams in his usually so cold gaze, a sight you definitely could get used to. And for the first time in years, he looks you directly in the eyes and shoots you a wink; his change in demeanor leaving you completely overwhelmed. Yet you can’t help but feel your whole body growing hotter as your head repeats the beautiful image inside of your mind until it becomes the only thing up there.

Usually, practice goes by rather slowly. You enjoy spending time with your best friends and listening to their music; the general atmosphere in the practice room calms you down in a really different way which is why you even crave these kinda evenings after long, exhausting days.

However, this time the three hours of practice seem to fly by because by the time the boys start packing up again, you struggle to remember which songs they played and what they talked about in their short smoking breaks.

You know it’s because your body is still buzzing with anxiety at the thought of Kyoutani and his family staying at your house but for some reason you also can’t stop overthinking what your best friend had told you a couple of hours ago.

Iwaizumi isn’t the type of person to just say something without there being some kind of meaning to it, not even if it’s to calm you down, so now you’ve already come to the point where you can’t seem to stop yourself from reading more into his words than usual.

“Kawa picked you up, right?”, the sudden sound of Kyoutani’s voice filling the rather quiet practice room is the one to pull you out of your thoughts and without properly processing who actually asked you that question, you start nodding.

“Alright”, he adds and pushes his freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, “then we won’t have to go in separate cars”, Kyoutani locks his phone and pushes it into his pocket before he looks up at you and then searches for a lighter.

You’re quick to hand him the one in the little front pocket of your bag which you carry around in case Iwaizumi or Oikawa happen to have lost theirs again.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence filling the empty space of the alleyway, making it a bit harder for you to maintain your composure and despite the cold weather, you can’t help but appreciate the fresh air filling your lungs.

“Kimiko and Koharu”, Kyoutani suddenly begins and places his cigarette between his plump lips, the names obviously making him smile and you can’t help but look at him with confusion written all over your face.

“The one who just turned five is Kimiko and the three year old’s name is Koharu”, he’s quick to explain it and as you realise that he’s talking about his little sisters, you understand his genuine and soft reaction.

As you watch the way Kyoutani takes a long drag from the deadly stick, you decide not to add anything to his words just yet because it feels like he has a little bit more to tell you about the two girls you’re about to meet.

And just as you expected, he continues to talk once he starts blowing the smoke out with a soft sigh.

“To keep it short: they’re basically like ‘Kawa and Zumi”, he explains to you and this time you can’t stop your lips from stretching into a wide smile at his words.

“Now I need you to elaborate on that, please”, after finally letting yourself calm down a little you manage to make a comment and when Kyoutani chuckles softly, the tension in your muscles finally seems to disappear.

You can hear the boys’ voices from inside the practice room and for a moment you feel the urge to frown because you won’t get to be alone with Kyoutani anymore but his voice quickly pulls your attention back to him.

“They fight and argue a lot because their personalities are so different but they also can’t live without each other”, Kyoutani runs a tattooed hand over his freshly dyed pink buzzcut, his eyes roaming your face attentively as you start nodding at his words with an approving smile on your lips.

You wonder what he thinks of you. There’s a part inside of you which wants to know whether or not he thinks you’re pretty or if he likes your eyes, your smile or your voice. You want to know whether or not he finds you attractive and maybe even sexy, your brain allowing you to ignore the possibility of him not being into bigger girls at all. But it doesn’t take long for you to get back to your usual way of thinking since you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not his type long ago and he probably doesn’t even care about what you look like because you’re not worth his time.

It takes you a good moment to shake off those annoying thoughts and in just that moment, Kyoutani decides to add something else to his explanation.

“They’re good kids. They’re well behaved and don’t really cause any problems or troubles. My Mom’s tried her best to give them what they need and their scumbag of a father treats them okay. He prefers to mentally and...physically abuse me and my Mom, just gets a little louder when they cry too much but that’s it”, Kyoutani’s words are carefully chosen; he takes his time to find the right ones and doesn’t rush himself in order to avoid any misunderstandings and it doesn’t take a psychologist to understand that he’s incredibly hesitant to open up about his family issues.

You can’t and wouldn’t blame him because you’re basically the same when it comes to these difficult topics yet you struggle to hide your reaction because after all this is the very first time he’s ever told you anything about himself.

“I think they’re both gonna like you a lot, but Koharu’s going to love you. She loves spending time with pretty girls and I honestly can’t blame her for that”, is the last thing Kyoutani casually adds and you know it’s to ease the tension in the air but as soon as your brain manages to process his words, you freeze.

You barely manage to react to Terushima’s unnecessary comments as the four boys come to join you two in front of the door and if it wasn’t for Oikawa almost brutally nudging your arm with his elbow, you wouldn’t have moved another inch for God knows how long.

Kyoutani Kentarou, the guy – your crush of several years who was basically unreachable for you up until an hour ago, told you that he considers you pretty or at least sees you as a part of the “pretty girls” and you absolutely hate the way your chest starts blossoming with this very special warmth.

“What’s wrong?”, this time it’s Iwaizumi's deep voice which brings you back to reality and when you lift your head to meet the comfort of his green eyes, you can’t help but let out a loud sigh of frustration.

“Absolutely fucking nothing”, you reply and throw your backpack over one shoulder before rolling your eyes at yourself, “and that’s the fucking problem.”

“You’re stressing me the fuck out, did you know that?”, Iwa shoots back with his eyebrows furrowed in irritation before he follows you to the cars and tells you to text him once you get home only for you to pout at him like a teenager.

Thankfully the ride to pick up Kyoutani’s Mom and sisters is a lot less stressful and nerve wrecking, mostly because you’re accompanied by Terushima and Yamaguchi but you also feel a little less tense and anxious for God knows what reason.

Something about Kentarou’s body language tells you that he seems just as nervous as you and you wonder if it’s because he’s scared of their reactions or if it’s because he’s going to stay in your apartment with them.

Neither one of you has bothered to mention it, but it seems like the only plausible option the whole plan comes with so you’ve been trying your very best to prepare yourself for the upcoming time. Of course there’s also the possibility that one of the boys takes Kyoutani in but you still like to keep your hopes up high.

You’re nervously pulling at your fingers as you calmly inhale the cold air of the night in hopes of making the waiting a little more bearable.

Kyoutani’s still talking to Terushima and Yamaguchi as they finish their cigarettes only to throw them away as soon as they hear the contagious chuckles of one of the two girls currently approaching the car alongside their mother.

You try your very best to stop yourself from staring but as you watch the girls pick up their pace just to jump into their older brother’s arms, you find yourself mesmerized by the heartwarming scenario in front of you.

It’s not difficult for you to tell the girls apart despite their similar facial features. They not only share the same hair color and style but their big smiles are almost identical and as you let your eyes roam their soft faces, you spot the little dimples on each of their chubby cheeks, the little detail basically emphasizing the family resemblance even more.

It takes the girls a good minute to shift their attention away from their older brother but as soon as their eyes meet yours, you can’t help but smile.

Yet, before you can actually greet them, you notice someone in the corner of your eye and without hesitation, you turn to face Kyoutani’s mother with a polite smile.

“Good evening, Ma’am”, you begin calmly, lifting your hand before you bow slightly, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

You feel your heartbeat fastening as you try your best to stop yourself from staring at her but there’s just something that makes this incredibly difficult, yet you can’t seem to point out what it actually is.

Her dark hair is put in a bun, a few strands falling into her rather young looking face and the second your eyes meet hers, you feel a sense of comfort and safety surround you like a capsule.

“The pleasure is mine, my Love”, she replies calmly before placing her delicate hands over yours, making the warmth of her skin meet yours, “thank you so much for this. You have absolutely no idea how much we needed this. I don’t know what Tani has told you already, but it’s been really bad lately and I know this is gonna do wonders for the girls.”

Her voice is soft, slightly hoarse yet oh so comforting and as you watch her speak, you can’t help but smile at her mentioning her nickname for the lead singer.

“I’m happy to be some kind of help, really. If he told me a little sooner, I would have made this offer a long time ago since I wasn’t gonna look for a roommate anyway”, you explain thoughtfully, genuinely enjoying the way Kyoutani’s mother is still holding onto your hands oh so dearly before she lets go and pushes a dark, curly strand behind her ear.

“You’ve got such a kind heart, I can tell by the way you’re looking at me. I hope your partner knows how lucky they are”, she breaks into a soft chuckle and at the mention of a lover, you can’t help but get flustered before joining her.

“I don’t have a partner”, you add quickly and shift your gaze to the floor, “but my boys appreciate me a lot so there’s no lack of that!”

Kyoutani’s mother smiles at your words, her gentle eyes slowly shift to the tall figure of her son who’s currently trying his best to balance both of his sisters on his back.

You wonder what she’s thinking about because there obviously seems to be something that’s occupying her mind yet you don’t find it in you to ask her about it just yet.

And you don’t even get another moment with her as loud cheers start ringing in your ears before you watch the way Terushima walks up to his best friend’s Mother and pulls her into a tight hug after bowing to her.

After about an hour, you find yourself cleaning up the kitchen while Kyoutani and his family get started with unpacking their things and although it’s been quite fun with the girls, you still feel this certain kind of tension lingering in your muscles.

It’s never been just you and Kentarou for longer than five minutes and now you’ve spent the last two hours casually talking to him, his sisters and his mother.

You lose yourself in your rather nerve wrecking train of thoughts and if it wasn’t for the sound of a door opening, you would have gone even deeper.

By the heavy steps and the sounds of dangling chains, followed by the familiar scent of cigarettes and vanilla you don’t even have to lift your head and finally meet the rather calming gaze of your new flatmate.

“The girls fell asleep and my mum’s in the shower”, Kyoutani whispers, the soft expression in his usually so tense and strict features suddenly making him look a lot younger than he is and you can’t help but love this side of him.

“Did you tell her about the towels I hung up for her and the girls?”

You try your best to stay calm and composed but just feeling his strong eyes roaming your body makes you nervous and all of a sudden you regret changing into your pajamas before making sure that everyone’s asleep.

In your defense: you genuinely didn’t expect to talk to any of them before heading to sleep which is why you’re now dressed in some random shorts and a really old shirt that barely leaves anything to anyone’s imagination.

And on top of it all, a wave of anxious thoughts about your body, your big thighs, your tummy and your big arms makes this whole situation a lot more difficult than it already is.

Kyoutani obviously notices the way you’re losing yourself in your train of thoughts, which is why he doesn’t hesitate much with his response.

“Mhm, I did”, he says and finally manages to make you look up at him again, “she probably hasn’t had a hot shower in weeks so I told her to take the time she needs, I hope that’s okay.”

Right before you properly process his words, you start nodding, just to stop mid-action when you realize what he had just told you.

“Wait…what do you mean she hasn't had a hot shower in weeks?”

A beat of complete silence follows your words and that’s how you know that this is one of those rather difficult topics for him.

To your surprise, Kentarou comes to sit down at the counter, nervously playing with the many rings on his fingers as he tries to find the right words.

“Her menace of a fucking husband doesn’t have a job so they can’t always pay the water and electric bills…Most of the time my money’s only enough for the rent and some groceries, so she’s been heating up water for the girls and opt to cold water for her own showers.”, Kyou’s tone shifts from angry to sad as soon as he stops talking about his mother’s partner and if it wasn’t for the weeks you’ve spent watching him and analyzing his body language, you wouldn't have noticed the way he started pulling on his fingers to calm himself down.

“My mother used to do that for us, too”, you say before you get a chance to overthink your words and you can’t help but tense up at the thought of opening up to Kentarou, someone you know but don’t actually know.

“And of course that’s absolutely okay. I want her to feel as comfortable and safe as possible; this is their home now, too”, to shift the attention away from your little slip into your own childhood, you try to wrap it up by responding to his previous question.

“Miko and Haru already love it so much, they don’t even mind sharing a bed for now”, Kyoutani continues and lets out a soft chuckle, his big hand reaches for one of the little water bottles on the counter and you can’t help but smile when you realize that he’s slowly getting more comfortable in your presence.

“Haru asked if she could sleep in my bed but your Mother intervened”, the memory of your conversation with the three year old has you smiling even bigger before you lift your head to look at him; your heart skipping a beat the moment your gazes meet, “I wouldn’t have minded that at all, though. She’s adorable and absolutely hilarious.”

And before you could even finish your little comment, Kyoutani Kenatrou throws his head back and lets out a genuine row of laughter, his reaction easily overwhelming you since you’ve literally never heard him laugh like this before. Not even with his boys.

You subconsciously start enjoying a sound so special and dear echoing through the silence of the night and you don’t even think about forgetting it ever again.

“She’s so unnecessarily funny for a three year old”, he says and rubs his chin, his eyes so much softer and calmer ever since you’ve arrived at your apartment and you can’t deny how much you like this new version of him.

“Anyway, I should get going, now that everyone’s safe and sound”, Kyoutani gets up from the chair and reaches for his jacket, doesn’t even give you enough time to register his words.

“What?”, you blurt out and look at him with confusion gleaming in your eyes, not even realising how loud your voice is.

“Huh? What do you mean? I’m leaving to stay at Teru’s”, Kyoutani explains and looks at you, adjusting his leather jacket and barely holding back his little smile in response to your outburst.

“Oh”, you sigh softly and try your very best to find the right words but you can’t avert your gaze from his strong body; basically devouring the poor guy alive and for a moment you lose absolute track, only to be pulled back into reality by the sound of Kentarou’s voice.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl”, his words hit you like a truck and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re seated already, you would have lost your balance, “what was that ‘oh’ about, hm?”

“I – uhm – I wasn’t expecting you to leave”, you reply and try to maintain the last bit of your composure but the longer you look into his hungry eyes, the weaker your knees become and for a moment you feel yourself fall even deeper into the haze of your arousal.

Kentarou seems to enjoy your reaction to his choice of words and you hate how every bit of your body wants to give yourself to him, when this is probably just his casual way of talking to people he feels comfortable around.

“Really? You’d be okay with me staying here?”

Without even missing a beat, you start nodding.

It feels like your body is running on autopilot because of the sudden change of the tension between you two.

“Yes”, you say with a little more confidence, “I’m sure your mother would much rather have you here with us, too.”

Of course you’re not going to tell him about how you're absolutely desperate to spend even more one-on-one time with him; not any time soon, at least.

“My mother, huh?”, Kyoutani smirks and takes his jacket off again, making your heart skip a beat.

All you can do is nod. Your throat has already dried up and you feel like you’re going to pass out from the sudden heat overwhelming your body. You try your very best to keep your reactions down, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt and avoiding his gaze like he’s going to turn you into stone if you looked at him.

“Hey, what happened with you and your little puppy boy?”, Kentarou asks, his voice is a little less amused and there seems to be a sudden shift in his expression which you can’t exactly pinpoint.

It takes you a whole minute to understand who he’s talking about and as soon as you realise, you roll your eyes in annoyance. Not because of him, but because of the “puppy boy” in question.

“We broke up”, you begin and get up to get yourself and him something to drink, but mostly to hide from his strong gaze, “everything was going well at first but then he got all weird and kept doing and saying things which made me super uncomfortable. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he got unnecessarily defensive instead of respecting my boundaries, so I called things off.”

You let out a loud sigh at the memory of your ex-boyfriend, just the thought of him never failing to exhaust you.

“What kind of things are we talking about?”, Kentarou replies calmly, thanking you for the cup as he watches you turn on the kettle.

“Only if you’re comfortable answering that of course”, he quickly adds and makes you smile just like that, yet again.

“At first, my weight was never a topic in our conversations”, you say and feel a wave of disappointment hit you, “but the longer we were together, the more he started mentioning it. But…not in the way you might think. He didn’t tell me to lose weight or fat shamed me, he actually did quite the opposite but in the most uncomfortable way possible.”

There’s a beat of silence once you finish your sentence, your focus falling to the way Kyoutani is playing with his rings as you wait for the water to boil.

“This is gonna be quite TMI and I actually can’t believe I’m telling you this, of all people, but I’ve got nothing to lose so why not”, you warn him and fill up his cup before you do the same with your own and then come back to sit right across from him.

A weird kind of comfort fills your chest; something you haven’t felt with anyone in quite a while and you've never expected Kyoutani to be the reason for this.

“I’ll be okay, go ahead, pretty one”, his response is cool and calm, yet pushes you to the edge of your seat and you hate how much his words affect you.

“He wasn’t the best with words – at all. However, his dirty talk was absolutely horrific”, you cringe at the memory of all those nights you had to listen to your past lover say things you would have never expected to hear from anyone with an ounce of decency, “he always included my weight and when we first started dating, i thought he was worshipping or like – appreciating me, but boy was I wrong.”

Kyoutani looks at you with furrowed brows and you can tell from his body language how he’s slowly beginning to despise someone he has met exactly once before in his life.

And for some reason, you like his reactions, but then again, you’re head over heels in love with him so that’s not surprising you in the slightest.

“Long story short, I dumped him after he kept calling me his…fat bitch while we were having sex”, you come straight to the point, not wanting to do this to yourself and Kyoutani any longer.

And once those words pass your lips, the lead singer’s jaw literally drops.

You try to play it cool to hide your embarrassment, taking a little sip from your tea and looking up at him through your lashes.

“Please, tell me he at least made you cum”, Kentarou suddenly whisper-growls, his dark eyes roaming your features attentively and taking in the way you gulp harshly in response to his intimate question.

“No”, you simply reply and shrug, “I didn’t get intimate with him that much, so he didn’t have that many chances but the ones he had, he actually missed.”

Kyoutani seems shocked, to say the least.

His eyes are focusing you as he tries to wrap his around the loser of a man you used to date.

“I’m glad you dumped his fucking ass”, is the first thing he says after his initial, wordless reaction, “you deserve so much better.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that”, you chuckle and scratch your neck, “I think I’m gonna take a break from seeing anyone. Being a fetish or the wannabe “success” story of people is quite draining so I’ve decided to just drop it, you know?”, you explain to him, your eyes softly meeting his gaze before they drop to his mouth and you feel your body literally aching for his soft lips on your skin, something you can only ever dream of.

Kyoutani wants to say something, anything. There are so many things on his mind, yet he falls completely silent in front of you.

But how is he supposed to tell you how he’s what you deserve? How could he possibly explain to you that he’s wanted you to be with him since the very first time he’s laid his eyes on you?

He’s not even brave enough to show any kind of interest in you with his boys, his literal brothers, around. Where is he supposed to find the balls to tell you all of the things he’s thinking?

If you only knew how much he liked you, how much he wanted to be everything those guys failed to be – in every aspect possible.

“Oh, Goodness”, you suddenly say and pull Kentarou back into reality, far away from all of his thoughts and unsaid words, “it’s so late already and I’m rambling like a teenager to you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry about that, Y/N”, Kyoutani suddenly says and manages to smile up at you, “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to talk to me like this. And thank you for answering my question so honestly”, he continues, yet never once looks away from your face until he watches the way you get up.

He can’t help but let his gaze roam over your curves, the thick flesh of your thighs and the way your shirt is hugging every part of your body just right never fails to leave him lightheaded. A sight he’s always had to admire from afar up until today. He could be less obvious about it, but he’s had to hide it for so long already, at this point he’s just tired.

“Thank you, Kyoutani”, you say and smile at him, “I’ll go get you a blanket and a pillow so you can get comfortable on the couch. I also don’t mind sleeping here if you wanna have some privacy.” All of a sudden, you feel way more nervous than just a few minutes ago and you hate how the feeling of his eyes on your body leaves you completely lightheaded. You’re surprised you’ve even managed to form a proper sentence, let alone offer your room to him.

“The couch is perfect”, Kyoutani says and gets up, coming to stand right in front of you – a lot closer than you could have ever imagined him to be.

“I know I’ve always been quite cold to you, pretty girl”, he suddenly whispers and gently caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, knocking every bit of air out of your lungs almost brutally, “but I actually enjoy your company a lot. My distance is just a self defense mechanism.”

His sudden explanation leaves you confused and absolutely overwhelmed but does not fail to reassure you just the way you’ve been craving it.

“I – what do you – really?” You’re stumbling over your words like a toddler, your brain just struggling to process whatever is going on and still you manage to feel hope fill the emptiness in your chest after dreaming of moments like this for so long.

“Iwaizumi told me about your worries and how you think I hate you”, Kyoutani calmly continues, reaching for your wrist before he places your hand on his own cheek, “I’ve never hated you. How could I when you’ve been nothing but kind and understanding?”

You’re…shocked.

At least, that’s the only way for you to explain the way his words leave you completely overwhelmed.

Never in a million years did you expect something like this to happen between the two of you; every single one of your daydreams is currently a lot closer to reality than you would have ever dared to imagine and you simply don’t know how to handle it.

“And I promise you, I’m not saying these things because you’re giving me and my family such an amazing opportunity. I’m telling you these things because for the first time I feel…brave enough.”

Kyoutani seems to choose his words carefully, rethinks and reassigns them as he speaks to eliminate any sort of misunderstanding.

You’ve never seen him like this; so hesitant and calm, nervous even. And although it definitely surprises you, you have absolutely no idea what to expect so all you can do is wait for what you’re about to hear next on the other side.

“Say something, Baby”, he suddenly says, his voice is a lot raspier than just a second ago and the way his hot breath fans your skin sends goosebumps over your whole body, “I don’t care what you say, just something – anything.”

“My head is – I’m – I don’t know”, you whisper and subconsciously reach for the fabric of his shirt, gripping it a little tighter than intended, but also not realising how you’ve been pulling him even closer to yourself until you look up at him with needy eyes.

“Fuck, you’re cute”, Kyou replies and closes his eyes, smiling softly before he gently nudges your nose with his, “and so fucking pretty, too. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Please, don’t do this”, you gulp harshly and wait for him to look at you before you continue, “if you’re going to b-break my heart, I can’t – I can’t take it, Kentarou”, you’re aware just how desperate you sound, but the fear of having your dreams destroyed is just too big to consider your pride right now.

“No, no, no. Baby…I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The tension between the two of you is thick and heavy, enough to almost literally cut it in half and for a short moment, you feel your breath hitching in your throat as you struggle to gasp for air.

Your thoughts are rushing through your mind at the highest speed possible, your heart basically hammering against your rib cage and your panties slowly turning into a mess with every single one of his words.

“I’ve never had towels as soft as these! Might wanna show me where you’ve got these from so I can – oh, Goodness! I’m so sorry”, Kyoutani’s mother suddenly exclaims and her sudden appearance manages to have the two of you take two big steps away from each other, leaving some much needed distance inbetween and you feel the tiniest bit of embarrassment washing over your body as you look away from the sweet woman’s face.

“I didn’t mean to walk in on you like this, pardon my manners, my sweet Y/N”, she says and looks at you with apologetic eyes, not even caring a bit about her flustered mess of a son right next to you.

“No, no, it’s okay, Ma’am”, you reply quickly and scratch the back of your neck before you reach for your phone and finally dare to look at Kyoutani, “it’s no problem.”

“You know what? I’m just gonna go back to the room and head to sleep. Goodnight, sweet loves.”, is everything she says and basically speed runs into her shared bedroom with the girls, probably more than just aware of the awkwardness she’s put you in.

“She’s always had amazing timing”, Kyoutani mumbles and rubs his forehead before he scratches the back of his head and looks up at you.

“Did you see how she literally ran away?”, you chuckle and throw your head back, finally getting rid of some of the tension in your bones, especially once Kentarou calmly joins in on your amusement.

“How about we talk about this tomorrow morning, hm? Today was a big day for everyone so I think it's best if we call it a night for now”, all of a sudden you seem a lot more confident than just a few minutes earlier and you have absolutely no idea how to feel about it.

“You’re right, yeah”, is all Kyoutani says before he gets up again and takes another sip from his tea, yet doesn’t leave right away.

“Thank you for everything, pretty girl”, he mumbles and smiles softly, his eyes attentively roaming your features, “sweet dreams.”

Maybe it’s because of the exhaustion rushing through your veins or maybe because everything that has happened in the past few minutes has felt nothing but surreal, but if it wasn’t for the feeling of actual shivers running down your back, you probably wouldn’t have registered the feeling of Kentarou’s soft lips placing the softest kiss on your forehead.

By the time you find yourself lying in the comfort of your bedsheets, your heart is still brutally slamming against your ribcage and you have absolutely no idea how you’re supposed to sleep after a day like this one.

You try your very best to think of something – anything else, but Kyoutani Kentarou and his pretty face and his strong hands and how they might feel roaming your whole body in ways you’ve been craving it oh so badly, yet you seem to lose every single time to those exact thoughts.

The responsible part of your brain is already losing every bit of its patience, since sleep does not seem to be an option at all, despite the busy day you’ve got ahead, whereas your body has been enjoying all the little shivers and rushes of excitement you’ve been dealing with the past hour.

After a while, however, you simply can’t help yourself anymore. Your brain is basically stuffed with lewd images of Kyoutani touching you just how you like it and you’re way too tired to give it another thought.

The urge to just reach for your cute little toy and make yourself cum a couple of times to shut your brain out has your fingertips tingling in the best way possible, yet the possibility of someone hearing your silent noises of pleasure easily balances it out.

“Fucking…Kyoutani”, you mumble to yourself and let out a sigh of frustration, unable to control yourself any longer.

The decision might not be your best, but it’s definitely the one you prefer over staying up all night and basically torturing yourself in another way.

At this point, the way your hand finds its way into your panties is almost mechanical. Endless nights spent by yourself, taking care of your needs and your arousal in ways no man has ever managed to do.

You’re quick to bury your face in your pillow to muffle the desperate whimper you let out as soon as your fingers find your needy clit; the little bundle of nerves already swollen and way too sensitive from how worked up you’ve been all day.

As the memories of Kyoutani’s scent and the feeling of his soft lips on your skin fill your head, you start drawing firm circles into your clit, sighing every single time the motion sends a sweet sensation through your veins as you get closer and closer to your relief.

Maybe it’s the way arousal has already clouded your brain in the best way possible or maybe it’s the fact that you’re too close to pay attention to your surroundings but the second your door slowly opens, your heart basically drops to the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N?”, Kyoutani’s soft voice fills the empty space of your room in an instant and you can’t help but whimper as you quickly pull your hand out of your drenched panties, hoping he’s not aware what you’re up to.

“Yes–”, your response comes exactly a heartbeat later and you hate how tiny your voice is.

“Can I come in?”

Kentarou seems hesitant yet determined and something in the way his pretty eyes are hooked and way darker than an hour ago has your cunt clenching like crazy.

As soon as you start nodding, Kyoutani walks past your doorstep, closing and locking the door behind him, something you should have done, before he comes to stand next to you. His eyes are roaming your body, basically devouring you alive and leaving you breathless.

Nobody has ever looked at you like this.

And the fact it’s Kyoutani kentarou, of all people, just pushes you even closer to the limits of your sanity.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”, he whispers and kneels down next to your bed to be on eye level with you, making the whole situation a tad bit less awkward and as soon as you look at him, you feel your body loosening up.

“What..are you talking about, Kyoutani?”, you try your very best to stay composed but everything is overwhelming you right now and you have absolutely no idea what to think or how to feel.

“Why did you go and touch yourself when you could have just asked me instead?”

And with this one he finally manages to leave you completely speechless.

You stare at him with big eyes and your mouth open, your cunt reacting before the rest of your body has a chance and you hate yourself for being so weak in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re–”, “Don’t lie to me, Baby”, he’s quick to interrupt you, gets on his feet again and wordlessly asks you to sit up as he reaches for your arm, “I’ve been watching you for so long, I know exactly how your body reacts when you’re getting needy. The sound of your voice changes and then your eyes…those God damn eyes of yours are the only reason for my sleepless nights.”

You’re listening to every single word he says without averting your gaze from his perfect face even once and with every single word your cunt starts clenching even harder.

Of course his sudden interest is surprising to you but you can’t hide just how much you enjoy it and if it wasn’t for the way he was gently caressing your arm, you would have thought of this as a dream.

“Do you really think, I don’t notice the way you press your thighs together whenever you stare at me for a little too long, hm?”

You know he’s teasing you, you know he’s enjoying the way you’re squirming underneath his strong gaze and you know – he won’t stop any time soon, yet as soon as your brain has processed his words, you let out the softest whimper.

“Now, now, cat got your tongue, Baby?” A soft chuckle follows his words and you feel your chest warming up at the sound, easily ignoring the situation you’re in.

You just can’t seem to focus, your brain finally shutting down, only for your body to take over and you are not quite sure if you like it as much as you expected to.

“Kenta…”, you finally manage to whisper, his first name feeling foreign on your tongue as you’ve gotten so used to being as formal with him as possible.

You’re hesitant, your voice is still tiny and a lot hoarser than just a few minutes ago, yet as soon as Kyoutani throws his head back with a moan that’s way too loud for this time of the night, you finally feel yourself letting go of every worry and doubt.

“There you go, that’s my good girl”, he’s quick to praise you for basically nothing, probably more than aware just how worked up he’s getting you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby. I promise I’m gonna do whatever it is. This is all about you.”

His offer sounds dreamy; something you’ve never heard before, something you’ve only had the courage to daydream about because asking for anything in your previous relationships felt uncomfortable.

You don’t even know why. Your ex boyfriends weren’t the best nor the worst lovers and now that you think back to it, you could have easily asked for what you want but your lack of self confidence made it difficult for you to think of yourself.

“Are you sure?”, you whisper, a wave of uncertainty hitting you the moment you think about your physical appearance. You subconsciously start pulling down your oversized shirt, trying your best to hide your big thighs and arms, way too scared of Kyoutani being disgusted by the sight of you.

“Stop that”, Kenta’s voice cuts through the tension in the air like a sharp knife and you can’t help but gasp, “of course I’m sure, Baby.”

A beat of silence follows his interruption before he places two of his tattoo clad fingers underneath your chin to push your head up and finally meet your gaze.

“I’ve wanted this – you for so long and I’m not just saying this to make you feel better. You’re perfect to me and I’m determined to show you. However, I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to. We can just kiss, cuddle or sleep next to each other. For fuck’s sake, we can just hold hands all night if that’s what you want. I want to…give you everything those little Losers couldn’t and I’m willing to wait for as long as you want me to. Got it, pretty girl?”

His words of reassurance leave you…flabbergasted.

There’s absolutely no other word to describe the way his sweet little speech has made you feel and after years of wishing for something like this – someone like him, you can’t help but get high on the addictive feeling of being wanted and desired.

“I want you, Kenta”, you reply softly, reaching for his face and gently placing your hand on his cheek, “I need you.”

And that’s exactly what he’s been waiting for.

Without missing another beat, he pushes your blanket away, revealing your pretty legs to his hungry eyes, a soft grunt escaping his throat the moment he realises you’ve gotten rid of your shorts from earlier.

“You’re so fucking hot”, he whispers and takes in the sight of your body, “please tell me what you want me to do to you or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Kyoutani reaches for your inner thighs, pushing his hand in between your legs and gently groping the soft flesh, kneading it and never once looking away from your face to make sure he can watch the way you melt for him even further.

“I want you to eat me out, Kenta”, this time you sound nothing but needy, something he’s wanted to hear for as long as he’s known you, “I want you to be the first one to make me cum like that.”

Kyoutani’s eyes physically perk up at your request and just when you’re about to regret what you said, he starts nodding as if it took him a good minute to process your words and yet again you find yourself surprised at his intense reaction to…you.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and sit on my face, hm? I’ve been thinking about this for God knows how long”, he confesses right after gently asking you for something you never thought you’d ever get asked in your lifetime.

Which is probably why you stare at him with big, almost fearful eyes.

“No, you’re not too big and to be honest I absolutely don’t give a fuck about it anyway, I just want you to cum all over my face”, he’s quick to reassure you yet again and this time you finally push yourself to just stop worrying and nod in response to his sweet words.

Kenta’s pretty lips stretch into the sweetest smile, deep dimples appearing on each side and you feel yourself falling for him all over again.

“I’m gonna take my shirt off, okay? If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to do it, Baby, I just want to make you feel good.” As he speaks, his hands find the hem of his shirt before he pulls it over his head and finally reveals his toned, tattoo covered torso to your needy eyes.

“Please”, is the only thing you can get out before you sit up on your knees and place both of your hands flat against his strong chest, gulping harshly at the feeling of his rapid heartbeat underneath your palm.

“Open your mouth, angel”, he whispers after waiting a few seconds to give you your time, “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You have absolutely no idea what he wants to do, your head spinning way too fast from all the arousal and adrenaline rushing through your veins, yet your body reacts to his words before you can realise it.

Kyoutani nods appreciatively as you part your soft lips and look at him with curious eyes, knocking the breath out of his lungs with just one single stare.

And as you try your best not to whimper when he pushes his hand into your panties, easily finding your cute little clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, Kyoutani puckers his lips and lets a thick drop of his spit fall onto the back of your tongue.

The feeling of his saliva slowly coating the hot muscle in your mouth has your cunt clenching even harder and you can’t help but thrust your hips into his grip even further.

“Look at how needy my little princess is”, Kyoutani teases and runs his strong fingers up and down your drenched slit, “you’ve made a mess of your panties, Baby. What a good girl you are.”

All you can do is listen and nod, your mouth still wide open, his spit sits on your tongue as your body waits for any sort of command from the lead singer in front of you.

“Swallow.”

With the word falling past his lips, Kyou wraps his hand around your throat and growls as soon as he feels the way you swallow every bit of his spit just like that.

Before you can think another thought, he pulls you into a needy kiss, pushing you even deeper into the haze of your arousal as he pushes his tongue into your mouth and gives you exactly what you’ve been craving for so, so long

You shamelessly moan into his mouth, barely able to keep up with his fast pace from how much your head is spinning yet with every single kiss you feel your body getting hotter.

“That’s my good girl. Now, if you keep doing so well for me, I’m gonna give you my cock, too. You want that, don’t you?”, Kyoutani nods along with you, his soft lips pouting slightly as he takes a step back and looks at you.

The two of you switch places, whereas you struggle to stay still from how bad your legs are already shaking as you take off your ruined panties, but as soon as Kentarou places his head on your soft pillow, you crawl back onto the bed, loving the way his hand never once stops touching any part of your body.

After taking another breath of courage, you sit yourself up and finally spread your legs over his perfect face, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you once you realise just how wet you are.

“Look at this perfect cunt”, but with just a few words, Kyoutani wipes away all your doubts.

"Fuck", you whimper as soon as Kenta’s hot breath meets your hot flesh, his face so incredibly close to your cunt, it you simply can’t help but whimper.

“Look at my sweet, sweet girl", he whispers and slowly collects your arousal ok his pretty fingers before he pushes them into his mouth with his powerful gaze focused on your face, “mhm..just as sweet as I thought", he adds with a little smile.

Your fingers instantly wrap around the headboard of your bed the second his digits find your sensitive clit. Kyoutani doesn't even give you the time to get used to the feeling of his fingers against your flesh as he licks a long stripe over your drenched pussy. You throw your head back almost brutally, your hips moving against his skilled tongue the second he starts thrusting the muscle inside of your sensitive hole.

Kyoutani eats you out like a man starved, loud slurping noises, deep grunts and heavy moans as well as your high pitched whines and the pathetic attempts of saying his name being the only noises to fill the silence of your room.

Your hips seem to have a life of their own as they grind against his mouth in hopes of reaching your oh so desperately needed high. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, your orgasm so close you can literally taste it on the tip of your tongue and when he decides to insert two of his strong fingers, you know you're going to stumble over the edge head first.

Your cunt starts spasming around his digits every time Kenta grunts against you. As your moans get louder, your whimpers a lot needier and the grip on the headboard tighter, you slap a hand of yours over your mouth to muffle your noises.

You look down between your legs, his beautiful eyes focused on you and just as your lids are about to flutter shut, Kyoutani lifts your hips away from his mouth, leaving you high and dry just like that.

A loud whimper leaves your lips, your heart thrumming in your throat with your cunt clenching around nothing, the sudden ache in combination with the frustration literally sending tears into your eyes.

You press your thighs together with quiet sobs, "w-why?", you ask him with your voice dripping in arousal and just as you're about to bury your face in your arm to silence yourself, Kenta grabs your waist again, and pulls you onto his naked lap, his hard erection laying flat against his toned stomach; precum already staining the tanned skin of his stomach.

“I'm sorry, Baby", Kyoutani says and caresses your sides softly, "I need to be inside of you, pretty girl", he whispers and gently moves your hips to rub your cunt against his sensitive tip.

As soon as you feel his pulsing cock against your sensitive flesh, you bury your face in his neck and try your best to muffle your high pitched moans.

It’s then that Kyoutani sits up with you in his arms before he takes your face into his big hands and finally pulls you into a needy kiss before he places a soft one on your forehead and then pushes you on the other side of your bed.

“Gotta make sure you stay quiet, Baby”, he whispers right into your ear and moving his hips in between your spread legs and gently slapping his cock against your cunt. You can tell how much he’s holding himself back from the thin layer of sweat covering his skin and his strong grip on your waist.

Your brain is so clouded by your arousal, you barely register his words, only remembering that he had said something when he suddenly pulls away and comes to sit on his knees with his pretty fingers firmly wrapped around his cock.

“You’re – big”, you whisper and stare up at him, subconsciously pushing your shirt up and groping your tits as the arousal completely overwhelms you. With anybody else, you would have never done something so lewd and brave but with Kentarou, everything just feels natural.

“I know, Baby”, he responds and teases your sopping wet hole with his leaking tip, looking up at you with flushed cheeks and needy eyes, “I haven’t been with anybody in months, I promise. Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

“Yes, yes, I am – please just fuck me already”, your words are basically slurred and rushed, not an ounce of composure left as you look at him.

Kyoutani is quick to spit on your drenched cunt, his hot saliva slowly dripping down your folds before he aligns himself up with your clenching hole, yet only pushes the tip in.

“Kenta”, you start whining way too loud, not even realising and caring even less, just wanting to feel what you’ve been dreaming about for literal years.

Kyoutani however just takes a deep breath, obviously trying his very best to calm himself down and not just ram the whole of his length inside of you because he knows how careful he has to be.

It doesn’t take him too long to regain his composure and place his big hand over your mouth after bending down to be as close to your face as possible.

“Look at, princess”, he whispers and gives you another forehead kiss, slowly pushing his cock a tad bit deeper inside of you and without even realising, your eyes roll into the back of your head, “come on, Baby, look at your boy, hm? Be good for me, look in my eyes when you take my cock.”

How could you ever deny him a request as sweet as this one?

Without missing another beat, your gaze meets his and just when you’re about to whimper from how soft the moment feels, Kyoutani thrusts his hips in just the right way, pushing almost his whole length into your sensitive cunt.

No matter how good you’ve made yourself feel before this, nothing comes even close to the feeling of his tip grazing your sensitive walls, leaving a trail of precum inside of you and pushing you closer to the edge every time he twitches in response to your body’s reactions.

A row of muffled moans and grunts fills the silence in your room and you both try to take in the overwhelming feeling of being as close as never before, something you would have never imagined to become reality, which is probably why you feel yourself growing slightly lightheaded.

“Good girl”, Kyoutani growls softly, bottoming out inside of you and letting out a guttural moan at the feeling of his tip grazing the entrance to your womb.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight", he hisses through gritted teeth, giving you the time to adjust to his impressive size, your breaths hitching in your throat because of the amount of pleasure rushing through your veins.

“That’s my good little slut, you’re taking my cock so well, Baby. I’m so proud of you”, Kyoutani mumbles against your cheeks before he starts slowly moving his hips.

“More, Kenta, I want – ngh, fuck – need more", you whine and scratch your nails over the skin of his broad back when his movements start picking up pace.

His long and sensually slow strokes against the sensitive walls of your cunt give you a hard time focusing on anything else but him and his cock.

Kyou hums in satisfaction at your words, his thrusts even deeper than just a second prior and the way he pulls all the way out only to thrust into you with full force leaves you dizzy.

Your mouth falls open as his harsh pounding elicits loud (yet still muffled) whimpers from you with every single thrust and at this point, you’re way too far gone to realise how loud you’re being.

Kyou fucks you just how you needed it: edging you multiple times as he brings you close to your orgasm, only to pull away when you're about to let go.

Your cunt firmly clenched around his thick cock like a god damn vice, your whole body on fire with sweat dripping down your temples and your own drool coating your chin because of your inability to close your mouth.

"P-Please, Kenta", you whimper with a tiny voice the second he lifts his hand from your mouth,the taste of your orgasm coating your tongue because of how close you are.

“You've been so good for me, Baby, so fucking good. Cum for me, show me how good I can make you feel", he orders and with the words leaving his beautiful lips, you finally stumble over the edge head first.

Waves of pleasure overwhelm your whole body, your sight turning blurry for a solid second as the intensity of your orgasm has you choking on your own breath.

You feel Kyou’s hungry gazes on you as he helps you ride out your orgasm. You take a deep breath after finally calming down again, your fingers finding his cheek before you look him in the eyes. A choked out moan leaves his lips before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering as you apply pressure,

"Fuck, I’m cumming", Kyoutani whispers, his voice is strained because of his heavy breathing and you can tell by his sloppy thrusts and soft whines he's about to reach his high.

“Do it, Kenta, need you to fill me up", you whisper into his open mouth, your lips connecting as you start swallowing his beautiful noises and with one last thrust, Kyou’s whole body tenses up before he cums inside of you, painting your cunt in the prettiest shades of white with the thick spurts.

Kyoutani throws his head back with a sharp inhale once he’s pulled out before his gaze shifts back between your legs and attentively observes the way his orgasm dribbles out of your tight cunt with his eyes gleaming in excitement.

You have absolutely no idea when or how you fall asleep, convinced Kyoutani has fucked you into the deepest sleep you’ve ever experienced. What you do know is the fact that Kyoutani was calmly sleeping next to you, just to wake up to him being long gone.

You try not to worry too much about it, knowing how busy he is at the moment and calming yourself down with a shower and some fresh clothes.

“Good morning, Ma’am”, you say and wave at the girls before you turn to their mother, smiling gently at her as you hope she slept through everything that had happened last night.

“Good morning, sweetness”, she smiles back and hands you a cup of coffee, “Tani’s left already. He told me he’s going to stay at Yuuji’s tonight so we won’t have to wait for him, I thought I’d let you know.”

And as she continues with her breakfast, you feel your heart sink into your stomach in the worst way possible when you manage to process her words.

What a fucking bastard.

#haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #kyoutani smut #kyoutani x reader

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infinitegalahad · 9 months

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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 3

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: Your relationship with Robert grows stronger and much more intimate. While he is a man of experience, you are not. However, Robert has no issue in helping you explore. Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: First-time touches prove to be a little overwhelming for the reader in the beginning but are 100% addressed and consensual. This is a minor piece of the story. Notes: This chapter and the next one were planned as one big chunk, but I separated them. Since A, I haven't written the other half, and B, I loveeee cliffhangers! Also, once again, thank you so much for the support! It keeps me going. And don't worry, the next chapter will be here veryyyyyy soon! It should hopefully be worth the wait :D Taglist | Masterlist

Fall in the West is far different from what it is in the Northeast.

There’s a breeze but not a chill in the air. The sun is still warm, yet not as warm as it is in the summer months, which is enough for sweater weather to commence. You thanked your mother for shipping out some of your fall wear. While you knew you had the money to buy new clothes, you saw no need as most of them were hand-me-downs from your older sister, who was seven years older. The two of you differed in fashion, and you thought some of the sweaters made you look older.

But Robert–sometimes Oppie–said the sweaters made you look kept. In fact, he said he liked them because he could see the curve of your “gorgeous, nymphet” figure. He said that to you as you sat on his knee while a hand slowly ran down the side of your hip and down onto your thigh, inches from the hem of your skirt.

Maybe they didn’t look old.

Hatomi had been used to these falls, which were usually for you. One Fall afternoon, your classes had finished, and you two wanted to study in a space outside the library and outdoors. The Hearst Mining Circle was the perfect place to do so. So you both grabbed your books and a blanket to sit on the grass and study, basking in the outdoors. Hatomi read one of her American History textbooks as you copied down equations from your Physics textbooks. The edge of the page had been crumpled previously from one of your sessions with Robert. He had snuck behind you, pressing small pecks from the side of your neck down as you explained the existence of Black Holes.

The sheer thought made you grab the side of your neck and nurse it. You turned to see Hatomi; her nose stuck in her textbook. Turning over, you watched people walk down the paved walkway, ranging from socializing students, faculty children, and busy teachers. Eyeing for a distraction, you scaled the walkway, and somehow, in looking for what you did not want to think about, you found Robert.

Robert stood outside the Physics building, smoking a cigarette, chatting and congregating with other science professors. As he chatted with his fellow science professors, his laughter resonated through the air like a melody, inviting those nearby to share in the camaraderie. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened when he laughed, adding a touch of charm to his rugged handsomeness. The wind blew away the bottom of his jacket, showing the white Oxford shirt that clung to his skin.

A cigarette dangled casually from his fingers, wisps of smoke curling into the air around him, adding an almost cinematic quality to the scene. The way he held the cigarette, an effortless gesture, enhanced his allure as if the act was imbued with intrigue. The tendrils of smoke danced around him, almost like an extension of his presence, creating an enigmatic halo that further piqued your fascination.

You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him. His hands moved gracefully as he spoke, emphasizing his words with subtle gestures that only added to the magnetism he emanated. The ruggedness of his appearance was balanced by a gentleness in his eyes, a combination that held your attention like a moth drawn to a flame. His handsome features, framed by the sunlight and the curls of smoke, seemed to encompass a world of intellect, charm, and mystery. It was a fleeting moment, an unguarded glimpse into his world, yet it left an indelible impression long after he had moved on.

“Y/n, this is what I’m talking about,” Hatomi explained as she plopped herself next to you, pointing to some page in her textbook. While you listened, you found it hard to tear your eyes off your handsome and regal professor.

“The Theory of Social Change says that everything and everyone, in different times, all fall into the same universe and repeat themselves within four cycles; The High", "The Awakening", "The Unraveling" and "The Crisis."

–

Since Hatomi told you about the Theory of Social Change, you began to ponder if you and Robert, with whatever you had, were prime examples of this.

Your cycle continued, and minus the newfound acknowledged mutual pining, nothing had changed. You went to his house, skimmed the idea of Physics if needed, ate dinner, and then kissed and cuddled until the late hours of the night. Most of your “meetings'' ended up finishing on Robert’s couch. Other than the multiple cigarette buds on the ashtray and empty martini glasses on the coffee table, you would end up entangled on top of Robert. His hands would rest on your back or hair, gently stroking both. Sometimes, he’d be smoking a cigarette; other times, he’d worship you like a goddess as he decorated your body in soft kisses.

These small instances of affection did not continue to go away. You enjoyed them just as much as Robert did. It took you time to adjust to seeing him outside of his house and inside of the academic setting. After he had kissed you, which was your first kiss ever, locking eyes with him was difficult—seeing him as just your Physics Professor instead of a poetic, lustful older man who confessed that he used the meetings to help you and get to know you more.

In a scene infused with an air of both familiarity and affection, Robert's voice carries across the room like a gentle melody, beckoning the reader with a tender summons.

"Sweetling," he murmurs, the endearment a whispered promise of comfort and connection. His arms unfold, a silent invitation that spans the distance between them, transforming the couch into a sanctuary of shared moments.

Your heart flutters at his call. A sense of intimacy envelops as you waltz over and ease into the space beside Robert, nestling against his side as if drawn by the irresistible force of his presence.

As they settle into the embrace of the couch, a soft sigh escapes the reader's lips, a sigh that resonates with the comfort of being in his proximity. Like a pair of puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit, your bodies mold together seamlessly. The warmth of his frame envelops her, an encompassing cocoon that soothes away the troubles of the world beyond.

A hand is extended, its touch a promise of connection that transcends the physical realm. Your fingers interlace with effortless synchrony, your hand finding its place upon Robert's chest. Beneath your palm, the rhythmic beat of his heart reverberates like a melody of shared emotions. His hand finds yours, enveloping it in a gentle squeeze—a wordless affirmation of your bond.

You can make out the sound of Tchaikovsky from Robert’s record player as his hand moves from your back to your stomach. His hand sneaks under your cardigan, drawing mindless shapes onto your stomach.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Robert questions.

You look up to see Robert is looking forward and not as you. Seeing this, you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“Nothing much besides sleeping. Why ask?”

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Robert's voice carries a weight of sincerity that resonates through the air. With a touch both firm and tender, his hand rests upon your stomach, the sensation of his touch causing a soft flutter within. The thin cotton of your shirt yields to the gentle pressure of his fingers, creating a sensation that dances between comfort and connection.

"I want to take you out to Sausalito," he declares, his words wrapped in a sincerity that leaves no room for doubt, “Go for lunch and then shop for you.”

The prospect he offers feels like an invitation into a world where his presence is a guiding star, a promise of shared experiences and cherished memories. As his words unfurl, a sense of belonging blossoms in the space between you.

The subtle shift in his touch carries a hint of possessiveness, a claim that evokes both a giggle and a flush of color across your cheeks. Your connection with him deepens, your heart dancing to a melody that only the two of you share. His pride, wrapped around his words like a velvet ribbon, tugs at the strings of your own emotions.

“Oppie,” A playful slap lands upon his arm, a mock protest to his proposition, “People will see you; they’ll see us. They will know.”

The underlying sentiment is clear - the world's gaze could fall upon the two of you, and the reality of being seen together in public sets your cheeks aflame with a delightful shyness. But in his presence, the hesitations and external considerations seem to hold less weight than the simple joy of being with him.

As you giggle and tease, his grip becomes a deliberate caress, his thumb tracing tender circles against your skin. The fabric of your shirt becomes a barrier that barely impedes the sensation of his touch, and the way he scrunches the fabric only seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. His voice, a timbre laced with newfound intensity, murmurs, "I want you by my side. I want to show you, y/n."

The unspoken allure between you deepens as his desire becomes palpable. The words he utters hold a double meaning, a claim that encompasses both the invitation to accompany him and the electrifying spark that courses between you. His possessive undertone, magnetic and primal, sends a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire that flares within the confines of your connection.

The blush on your cheeks takes on a new hue, a mixture of shyness and the intoxicating realization that you're affecting him in this very moment. You feel his gaze upon you, an ardent flame that strips away pretenses and bares your vulnerabilities. The sensation of his fingers against your skin becomes an echo of a deeper connection, a touch that ignites a firestorm of desire in both of you.

"Oppie," you cooed, this time with a subtle hint of breathlessness. His name, a whispered plea, seems to fan the flames of his desire. The weight of his possessiveness, interwoven with the age gap and a burgeoning passion, adds a layer of complexity to the bond you share. The unapologetic way he wants you, the unfiltered truth behind his words, sends a jolt of heat through your veins.

Robert bends his head to catch your lips as he begins to suck at them passionately. A noise escapes as his lips engulf yours. His hand travels down your stomach and stops at the end of your shirt. His lean fingers crawl under your skirt and up to your lower waist, where his cool fingers touch the soft stomach of your skin. Much to your dismay, a soft moan escapes your mouth. Robert hums to himself as he tastes you, his hand slowly caressing your hip. His hands are cold, yet warmth feeds onto your skin.

His hand progressively moves up and now rests under your boob. His thumb draws circles, edging towards the line under your bra. No man had ever gotten this close, let alone touched you like this. Robert was the first and only to do so. His touch was gentle and possessive, and as much as he pleased you, it was all too much at once. Everything began to overwhelm you; Robert, the age difference, the power dynamic, and its imbalance all hit like a train.

“Robert,” You cried as your legs uncomfortably shifted.

Immediately, he removed his hand from under your skirt. You crawled away from his side and breathed heavily, running a hand through your hair. Your legs began to shake, and you could somewhat contain the sudden rush of anxiety.

“Y/n?” Robert called your name, worry evident in his voice. He dared not move over, but he held out his hand, “Sweetling, did I hurt you?”

As he rubbed his temples, he stumbled on his words, “Forgive me, please. I lost myself there. I forgot that you are less experienced than I am.”

Your arms wrap around your body as you look at Robert, who looks like a wounded animal. The thought of hurting you devastated Robert, and it was evident in his body language.

“Robert, I’m okay,” You assure him as you stand with your arms still wrapped around you. At a loss for words, you shake your head and head to the kitchen to gather your coat and bag.

“I’m just rather tired. It’s been a long week. I can assure you it’s nothing with you. I’ve just been,” As you put your coat on and grab your bag to exit the kitchen, you see Robert standing in the doorway. He stares at you as his hands smoothen down the material on his pants. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say or do.

“Conflicted. That’s all.”

You fastly walk by him, brushing against his side. He turns to watch you walk to the doors. Just as your hand grabs the knob, Robert speaks.

“Sausalito. Not San Francisco or Berkeley, Sausalito. I’ll take you there tomorrow in the morning. We can spend the morning there if you wish to be seen with me.”

While your hand remains on the knob, you look back at Robert, sinking into your coat collar to hide your blush.

“I do wish to be seen with you. I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Oppie.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

–

That very next morning, Oppie keeps to his promise. You arrive at his house, and he’s in his Cadillac, awaiting your arrival. You smile and climb in, greeted by a peck to the cheek. Oppenheimer’s smoking another cigarette, and while he looks happy to see you, he still seems bothered by last night. You tell him to forget about it, but he shakes his head, saying he should know better.

He brings this up again as you finish driving over the Richmond Bridge, close to Sausalito.

“A man my age, especially with someone as young as you, should know to control himself,” Robert muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, “But since you’re so, well, beautiful, I just..”

“Robert, I insist it’s no issue-”

“But it was. You yelped. I never wish to see you afraid of me, y/n.”

“I yelped because I was shocked, that is all.”

“You wanted me to stop, but I didn’t,” He admitted, “I was not thinking with my head, y/n.”

Although he didn’t explicitly state the phrase after, it was enough for you to piece it together. Robert knew how inexperienced you were. Just a month ago, you had your first kiss with a man a little over a decade older than you, who so lovingly happened to be your Physics professor. Your mind replayed the events of last night. You had enjoyed his touch, but it was too much at once. While Robert was gentle, he moved too fast for you, and you didn’t have the courage to say it to him. The last thing you wanted to do was make Robert angry at you, and as much as you wanted to say this, you didn’t know if it was the right time, let alone how to phrase it.

Last night, you lay in bed, running a hand under your shirt, pretending it was Robert’s hand. The imagination was a powerful force but could only do so much.

As Robert parked the car, you sighed and looked forward, fidgeting with your hands.

“I understand, Robert. But let me say that, honestly, I enjoyed your touch. It was a lot, but it brought me pleasure, and–” You quickly find a way to say what you want, “--I do want to explore this later. But for now, I want to put this behind us. You said you wanted to dine and shop for me, which I would love to do now. Can we do that, please?”

Robert looked over with a conflicted look. He looked takeback, trying to hide a smile of pleasure, relief, and joy. There was a hint of lust in his eyes as well. But after all, that was for later.

“Thank you for that, y/n. And yes, we can,” Robert said with relief.

Robert opened the car door and helped you out of the Cadillac, his touch lingering longer than it usually did.

After you two got lunch at a restaurant that Robert said his friend recommended, some French Cafe on the water, he asked if you had certain stores you wanted to go to. You shrugged your shoulders, saying you were more than happy to follow him where he took you.

The two of you walked close side by side. In the crowd of ongoing bypassers, questions raced within your mind. What if someone knew you were from Berkeley, seeing you waltz along with your professor? Robert looked much older than you, and you barely looked like an adult. Older men had always been a fantasy of yours, but when that was turned into a reality, it was both a curse and a blessing. All of the issues that you had to avoid in your fantasy, you were forced to confront in real life. Hopefully, not soon or ever.

Robert reached to grab your hand and held it close, bringing you slightly closer to him.

“Settle down,” Robert squeezed your hand, “No one knows but you and me.”

You gulped and contained a sigh as you leaned into Robert. Looking for a distraction, you looked at some of the store windows. Some of the stuff was too bright or expensive, but you did catch a beautiful black purse. It was a Chanel Black leather crossbody with a simple, elegant golden chain. You had seen some of the girls at Berkeley with them. For what reason they needed it, you did not know, but you simply admired it. You made a note to ask for your parents for Christmas.

Robert saw you eye-shopping and stopped in his tracks. He leaned down to whisper in your ear if you wanted that purse. You shook your head, saying your purse was perfectly fine, ignoring that you had complained to him a week ago that your books were breaking the bottom of your bag.

Robert ignored you and bought the purse, despite your pleas for him not to.

“Thank you,” You politely grumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You can hide how red your cheeks are from him, “Robert, I did not need that. You know what.”

“I do know that you did need a new bag,” Robert pointed out. He smiled to himself, a small boost to his ego, “It made you smile. I should also find you a new outfit to match the bag. Something elegant and dark.”

“Where would I be carrying that expensive bag? To class?”

“To events with me, along with the expensive clothes and perfumes I plan to decorate you in,” Robert cooed to you, “Fine things for a fine girl.”

You blushed and leaned into his shoulder, sighing and shaking your head. “Well, I suppose I should look down so you don’t buy me anything else.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work, dear. You have a tendency to blush at the slightest of things.”

At that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to smack or kiss Robert in his stupidly, hauntingly handsome face.

After some more shopping, Robert dropped you off at a bookstore. He said he needed to run a quick errand but told you to pick out whatever you wanted from the store. He said he would be back and pick out some books for you and, if you wish, to pick one for him. With a kiss on your head, he promised not to be gone for long, his hand lingering on the side of your arm.

You had been trying to get Robert into Greek mythology for the longest time. He introduced you to Hinduism through the Bhagavad Gita. He could talk about it for hours on end as he felt you. Feeling the need to return the favor, all while being held by Robert, you picked out a few of your favorite classics; Prometheus and Athena, Cupid and Psyche, and Hades and Persephone. There were plenty more you could have chosen, a part of you knowing Robert would buy every book you wanted.

Just as you tried to reach for one, a hand behind you reached for it and grabbed it. You looked behind and saw Oppenheimer examine the cover of the book.

“The Odyssey,” Robert read out the cover and turned the book, “Have you read it?”

“Twice. Once in school, and once with my father,” You replied, watching Robert open the book. As he skimmed, you leaned on his arm to read along in the book. Robert took notice and subtly leaned into you, “I think you’d like it.”

“If you like it, I’ll love it.”

You hummed and smiled to yourself, looking down at the pink bag Robert held. Quirking an eyebrow, you asked, “What exactly did you buy me?”

“You’ll see once we get home,” Robert promised, his hand finding the way to the small of your back. He pulled you close to his side. You looked up at him and smiled at his sheepish grin, which hid something devilish.

“Before you get to enjoy your gift, let me buy your books and the Iliad.”

“And then what?”

Robert’s hand rests on your hips as he brings his lips to your ear, slightly lighting you up to whisper into your ear.

“And then we can enjoy.”

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer #robert j oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer x reader

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huntingingoodwill · 1 year

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how to steal a million (t.s.)

masterlist

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

prompts: must include: a confession, hurt/comfort, a family tradition, forced proximity

a/n: this is my fic for @runnning-outof-time 's holiday bingo challenge! i hope you like it <3

You hitched up the skirt of your gown, the silk gathering in your fingers and tumbling past your knuckles as you hurried down the hallway.

You heard your name echo down the corridor, and you swore under your breath, wisps of hair falling from your perfect coiffure as you evaded the voice.

“Where are you? Everyone’s asking after you! Come down and join the party!”

Your eyes landed on an inconspicuous door, and you scrabbled toward it, heels clicking frantically against the marble floor.

You slid into the broom closet, hurriedly clicking the door shut behind you. You were immediately plunged into darkness, the only sliver of light peeking through the gap at the bottom of the door.

You watched that little strip of light fall across your feet, holding your breath. Your fingernails dug into the soft flesh of your clammy palms as you heard the voice get closer, footsteps quickly approaching.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the footsteps receded into the distance, the voice growing fainter as the shadow that obscured the light moved past the closet.

The tension draining out of your body, you sunk toward the door, bracing your forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

You heard the click of a lighter behind you, and you whipped around to see a man in the darkness, illuminated by the orange glow of the small fire.

“Cigarette?” He mumbled, the smell of tobacco filling the cramped space as he lit the cigarette that dangled off his lips.

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed, jumping back in shock.

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord.

Suddenly, the tiny closet was awash in light, and you took in the sight of a man sitting in the corner, casually nursing a cigarette.

“Who are you?” You blinked at him, astonished.

“A guest.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms over your chest as you felt suspicion swirl through your mind.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubt. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy blue eyes holding your gaze.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a manicured finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I’m technically a host.”

“Well,” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “You’re not being a very good host if you’re hiding up here, are you?”

You gave him a tight smile, eyebrow cocking as you looked at him. You hadn’t been able to put your finger on it before, but recognition now registered in your mind.

“I remember you.” You wagged your finger at him, beginning to catch on. “I saw you with May Carleton at Cheltenham in March. Tommy Shelby. I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning that gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not? We’re good fun at parties.” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Cut the shit, Shelby. What are you really doing here?”

“Well, if you must know,” He sighed, bothered by your incessant questioning, “I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently.” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, punctuating his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“You’re seriously admitting to me right now that you came here to steal a million from my family?”

“You’d hardly miss it.” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

“Well, I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Mr. Shelby, but I won’t stand by-” You said, turning to leave and warn your father.

“You’re not going back down there.” He interrupted.

You swivelled back around, glaring at him.

“Is that a threat?” You spat. “I’m not scared of you.”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re not going back down there, because you don’t want to.”

“What?” You said softly, your tough exterior faltering for a second.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.” He said.

You reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers. Your hand returned to your side.

“Move.” You ordered, and Tommy listened, sidling closer to the wall as you squeezed next to him, pressed up against him in the cramped space. You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag for yourself. You took a breath, carefully considering your next words.

“It’s not that simple, you know.” You mumbled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Sure it is.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled.

“How so?” You furrowed your eyebrows, turning to gaze at him.

You could hardly fathom why he’d care. Still, you felt the emotions you had kept bottled up all your life bubble up within your throat. You pressed your lips firmly together, fiddling with your fingers nervously as you felt a lump form in your throat. You felt so silly, feeling yourself unravel little by little, all because the criminal you were squashed up against in this tiny room asked you a simple question. But, no one had ever really asked you about how you felt, living in the gilded cage of high society. It felt foreign, sharing your feelings, and you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“I don’t know.” You muttered, folding your hands in your lap meekly. You could feel the barrage of emotions pooling in your mouth, the true feelings you had kept hidden for so long ready to spill out. “It’s one of our many family traditions, this stupid holiday party. I don’t like any of it.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, just thinking of it making you feel dizzy. “All the parties, all the gossip, all the expectations. If I make one small misstep at one of these, I’m immediately filed under disappointment.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “I feel…trapped. It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family because I wear the wrong dress, or my soiree conversation isn’t polite enough.” You forced out a laugh. “Sorry. It probably sounds stupid to you.”

“It doesn’t.” He replied immediately, and you turned to him, a little stunned. “I’m not going to pretend I know all about what it’s like being a high society woman,” He started, earning a little laugh from you, “But, I think you deserve better than this. You should go. Leave it all behind.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.”

“It won’t be.” He replied. “But, I think you deserve better than living a life you hate. I’ve heard about you for a while now. As you said, stupid high society gossip. But, meeting you has confirmed it. You’re bold. Brave. Intelligent. You should do what makes you happy.” He paused, thinking over what he wanted to say next. “I… would like to see you happy. I want you to be happy.” He said, trailing off quietly at his final revelation.

“Really?” You whispered.

“Really.” He cleared his throat. "And... if you ever need any help, come find me, alright?"

An uncontrollable smile tugged at your lips. You reached out for him, pulling him into a hug. You felt him tense under your embrace, but he soon relaxed, melting into your touch.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into his shirt, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He mumbled, patting you awkwardly on the arm, already missing you as you pulled away.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, leaning against each other’s shoulders in the small space.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised, noses practically brushing each other due to your proximity.

‘How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

#tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurbs #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy imagines #cillian murphy #cillian x y/n #fluff

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vasyandii · 4 months

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KruegerNak FIC- PLUMERIA

Synopsis: Nak tries a cigarette, talks before a mission.

Warnings: Mentioning of Drugs, Smoking, Violence, Murder

Word Count: 1,000+

Type: Casual, dialogue heavy

Characters: Sebastian Krueger, Phayvanh "Nak" Sotsvahn

Creator Notes: This is actually the most I've ever written in my life xD have fun

Sop Ruak; Chiang Saen, Thailand. It’s the heart of The Golden Triangle; Laos was just across from where they stood. Nausea rarely gripped her, but being here was too close for comfort. The Mekong River was the only thing separating her from what she had two years ago.

It felt familiar, almost nostalgic—if she could even call it that.

She's never been fond of Counter Narcotics Operations; interdictions specifically. Nikolai proposed that Phayvanh's first hand experience with this area would be useful during their time in the East. The setup, at least for larger trafficking operations, was always the same; outdoor labs, “product” stored in barrels or polypropylene woven sacks.

Maybe her feelings are more akin to regret.

“Light.” Sebastian requests, leaning against the guard rails overlooking the Mekong, an unlit tip of a cigarette dangling from his lips. That snapped her out of her introspection.

She pats her pockets, nothing. Fuck, was it like her to be so forgetful?

“Don't got one.”

“Right.” He murmurs, retrieving his own to light for himself.

“Why even ask?” Phayvanh squints, scowling.

A smirk plays across his lips, tendrils of smoke spiraling from them, “I like it when you light them for me.”

That son of a bitch.

“Drop dead.” She mutters, not wanting to look at him after his ridiculous confession.

That got a chuckle out of Sebastian before a silence settled in. It felt uncomfortable, something she’s not used to feeling with him. Maybe it's just her.

It wasn't like she could ignore and forget where she was even for a moment– the humidity in the air, the smell of leaves that were too sickeningly sweet– it's all overwhelming. Not to mention that damn sight in front of them. Maybe that's why he smokes? It Feels like she could break out in hives or have her hair turn gray.

“May I?” She holds out her hand.

Sebastian gives her a skeptical look, cigarette perched comfortably between his fingers. “Thought you didn't do shit like this.”

“You're going to die sooner because of it, might as well catch up.” Phayvanh utters, waving a dismissive hand.

“Fair.” He hands her what remains of his cigarette.

Her fingers awkwardly held it up; more familiar with handing them out than holding one. Phayvanh tentatively brought the borrowed cigarette to her lips. As she inhaled, a harsh burn seared her throat, and a sudden fit of coughing overtook her. The acrid taste lingered, catching her off guard.

“You're supposed to inhale, you know.” Sebastian watches with amusement.

She couldn't help but shoot him an exasperated glare between coughs; a miserable attempt of recovery as the acrid sting from the back of her throat shoots back out.

“So much for trying to catch up with me, huh, Schatzi?” He teased, retrieving what remained from the cigarette , Sebastian expertly drew another lungful before tossing it somewhere on the ground.

"So much for that" She grumbles, finally being able to speak properly.

Krueger smirks, nudging her shoulder with his.

“Want to try that again?” He goads, giving the end of her ponytail a light tug.

Phayvanh swats his hand away “Not really. I thought it'd have more..you know.”

"Tastes like shit and kills you slowly, Phay." He shrugs. "It doesn't offer much in the realm of comfort or relief.”

"I want it to." She sighs, overlooking the Mekong."I feel like I'm back to where I started again.”

A silence settles between them, only the hum of insects and faint splashing of water. "This place isn't Laos," Sebastian says finally after what felt like an eternity.

"But that place is." Phayvanh's eyes direct him to look the strip of land across the river. “And we have to go back there.”

Sebastian follows her gaze. "Are you up for it?" He doesn’t add anything, just leaves the question to hang there in the space between them

The words seem to not want to come out. Phayvanh makes a vague gesture with her hands, hoping he gets what she's trying to say.

"Wow, you should become a spokesperson. Really got me raring to go." he says with a dry grin.

“Don’t be a dick.” She complains, wanting to sulk a little longer.

"Too late for that," Sebastian retorts,the smirk on his face tightens; he gazes at Phayvanh as if he's challenging her to toss another insult.

“I don’t know where I stand in this anymore,” she vents out.

“Bullshit.” Krueger cuts through any potential excuse or argument Nak could throw up against him. “Right now is not the time for a fucking existential crisis."

His curt tone stings worse than when she had taken a puff from earlier -

“What if he's there?” She gives him an incredulous expression- just what right does he have giving life lectures?

Sebastian's gaze sharpens. He doesn't need to ask who she is referring to - he knows.

The snake of the Laotian underworld, mingled with blood and fear.

“He’d kill me.”

“Not if I’m there.” Sebastian chuckles

"He’d kill you first."

"Then we kill him," he replies, as if they were discussing the weather instead of plotting murder.

“..What?” She takes a step back.

Phayvanh had to do a double take at Sebastian's words. Kill him? She was lucky enough Kapano didn't send anyone after her the first time she tried.

"We kill Vang." he repeated,

"No." She lets out a small laugh of disbelief, it eased her more than she liked to admit "Is the heat getting to your head? There's no guarantee we'll even run into him.”

"No guarantee, no," Sebastian concedes with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. He then leans in to look at her directly.

"But you and I both know this world isn't kind enough for sweet coincidences." His voice lowered into a whisper "This is your chance Nak-- One bullet- just one can send him straight back to the sty he slithered out from”

"What, so we go out of our way to find him? I can't do that Sebastian." Phayvanh reasoned, crossing her arms.

"That bastard has had a chokehold on your neck since you were old enough to walk,” Sebastian retorts, he knows he's not wrong “It's deserved.”

She wasn't stupid. Naga would cut off the hand she used to stab him with. Then he would use it to do the same thing she did to him years ago; he'd get away with it as well.

“It's not about that, I could lose my job. Isn't this against protocol?" She reminds “He's not a target.”

"No one's going to care if that bastard drops dead, Phay." He urged her

It was clear she considered it for a second.

"I'll take care of it- You just have to be there with me. Like always.”

“You wouldn't.”

"You underestimate me." Sebastian scoffs. "I’d have his head put on a tray for you, Phayvanh.”

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abiiors · 6 months

Text

halloween 🎃 // george daniel x reader

promptober '23 - day 31

a/n: omg the last one 🥹. bbf!george, this one's for you!! and also hehe i have been evil, as is the theme for halloween :) cw: suggestive so i'm just gonna add the mdni anyway wc: 1k

“boo!”

george startles and almost drops the joint he’s been quietly smoking in the alleyway behind his house. it’s quiet at this time of the evening—well, as quiet as it can get with a bunch of people partying inside and screaming louder than the music thumping through the speakers.

it’s especially loud this year considering they just moved out and into a little matchbox apartment.

but it’s theirs.

it’s george’s own space, free from his parents and free from matty’s (as much as he loves denise and tim). downside though—he hasn’t seen her, in quite a while.

and now here she is, shit-eating grin on her angelic face (literally, she’s in all white with a crooked halo hanging off her head for dear life). there’s glitter on her eyelids that blinds him in the moonlight. and george can’t help but grin back.

“hi, sweetheart,” he approaches her, a bit shy for some reason and about to say something when she launches herself at him and engulfs him in a bear hug.

“i missed you!”

his heart skips a beat. she missed him… she missed him.

she smells faintly of alcohol, maybe even a cigarette and george stops to think about how much she’s changed in the last few months, how much she’s come out of her shell.

“i missed you too, sweet girl,” he murmurs in her hair and closes his eyes. “you could come by more often you know…”

she laughs in his chest. “i love my brother but not enough to stop by every week.”

she’s teasing, george knows she’s just taking the piss, but it stings regardless. because of course, why would she stop by their place if not to see matty? as far as matty is concerned george is just casual friends with her. someone she hangs out with along with matty’s other friends.

“besides,” she continues, “your flat is on the third floor. can’t exactly climb the pipe up, can i?”

“i—” george clears his throat and pulls away. the joint dangles between his fingers, burning away and crumbling to ash by the minute but he doesn’t necessarily care about it at the moment.

“you don’t have to…” he murmurs and clears his throat. “you don’t… we could, we should tell matty…”

she stares at him for a moment and george suddenly feels stupid. tell matty what exactly? it’s not like she’s his girlfriend. fuck, maybe he should start by figuring that out first and then—

but then she breaks into the most breathtaking smile he’s ever seen and for a moment george stops breathing.

“you want to? i mean what would we even tell him? that we want to try dating? god this feels like being in the 50s! it’s not like i need his permission,” she rambles on, pausing very very briefly to take a deep breath and george stifles his smile.

“it’s not like i’d ever expect him to ask my permission if he wanted to date one of my friends. actually no, scratch that, matty with one of my friends, that’s nightmare fuel. but oh my god, let’s not tell him about the… you know… about us—”

“having sex?” george grins and she shiftily looks away.

“yeah,” she whispers, “yeah that.”

he flicks the joint aside and takes a step forward, towering over her until she’s pressed against the wall and looking at him through her eyelashes. a flush spreads over her cheeks, right under her artificial blush, subtle enough that he would have missed it had it not been for her biting her bottom lip nervously.

that makes him groan.

“fuck, sweetheart,” his hands rest on the wall on either side of her face. “i love it when you blush.”

“i wasn’t–i was—” but george is already cutting her off with a kiss.

his teeth tug on her bottom lip, hands sliding down to her waist so he can pull her closer. public alleyway be damned, he needs to feel her now. he needs to swallow all her soft sounds and feel her giggles reverberate into his chest. when her fingers tangle into his hair, he almost groans with pleasure.

fuck. she’s kissing him back just as hungrily. fingers playing with a few strands of his hair while her hips grind against his and fuck, he wants to have her now but not here, not like this. and so george continues to kiss her like a man starved, trying and failing to find the willpower to pull away. just another few seconds. just another minute.

“shit, shit,” she pulls away first, looking at him with wide eyes and lipstick smeared around her mouth. “george, i–fuck, take me back to your room?”

“now?” he tries not to sound to eagers, not to freak her out but really he wants to fucking whoop with joy.

almost like she can read his mind, she tugs him towards her once again for another quick, searing kiss. another one that knocks the wind right out of his chest.

“now,” she confirms. the word half disappears onto his lips.

and then she pulls away, grabbing onto his hand.

if george had turned even a second sooner, he would have missed it—missed the way her face goes from flushed and eager to pale and grey. would have missed the way her breath hitches and she practically stumbles into the wall.

if george had turned even a second sooner, it might just have been him stumbling into the wall instead.

“fuck…” she whispers again, sounding absolutely nothing like she did just seconds ago. “matty, i—”

but the words die on her throat.

and at the mouth of the alleway, matty’s jaw drops to the floor.

lemme know what you think <33

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add yourself to the taglist

#promptober75 #the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george x reader #george x you #george daniel fic #george daniel fluff #bbf!george #the 1975 fluff #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #minors do not interact

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legends-of-apex · 2 years

Text

‘Only If For A Night’ Ch.1 | Tangerine x Reader

{Click here for series masterlist}

rating: M for canon-typical violence, threat and profanity

word count: 2012

summary: There is a price on your head. Lemon and Tangerine are hired to protect you from those aiming to claim it. There's tension between you and Tangerine right away and he's not quite sure what to make of you. Prequel to Bullet Train (2022)- no spoilers for the film. The reader isn't referred to as being any specific gender

‘Something about this doesn’t feel right,’ Lemon grumbled.

Tangerine sighed, rolling his eyes with impatience. ‘I know, Lemon.’

‘So why are we still taking this gig? Things are so much easier when we’re just pulling a trigger-‘

‘Because he’s already paid us half, Lemon!’ Tangerine interrupted, ‘What about our fucking reputation then? We’re professionals, Lemon. Reputation is everything in our line of work and I intend to keep ours intact.’

The repetition of his name annoyed Lemon to no end. It sounded like Tangerine was scolding a child. He had barely muttered a fine in response when Tangerine raised a ring-clad finger in the direction of someone crossing the street. The rental car’s windows had finally unfogged enough for them to see the details on the other side of the glass. Lemon glanced at the picture of their target on his phone then back at you as you sidestepped a particularly mucky puddle.

‘Is that definitely the target?’ Tangerine asked, excited at the prospect of not having to wait around any longer.

But Lemon was already getting out of the car before answering the question. He hadn’t even bothered to take the keys out of the ignition so Tangerine rolled his eyes and reached over to do it himself. The last thing they needed was their car getting stolen on a job.

You reached the cafe’s hulking glass entrance. It looked tall enough for a giant to fit through. No wonder the staff kept the door open all the time, it must have been to ward off cobwebs in impossible-to-reach corners of the doorway.

The cafe was heavily gentrified with Einstein light bulbs dangling against a dark wood backdrop and a glaringly overpriced menu pasted along the walls. But the staff were nice every time you’d been in.

It was the only place you’d allowed yourself to frequent since they put a price on your head.

Tangerine noted the way you looked from side to side a couple of times.

Left then right. You were scanning the passing crowd. Left then right.

People on the run tended to have a sixth sense for when they were being watched and he was absolutely not in the mood to chase someone today. Not in this humidity, not ever. So he pulled out his lighter and stood to the side of the car, trying to look like he was casually smoking a cigarette and getting some air after a drive as anyone would in this weather.

He and Lemon stuck out like a sore thumb, of course. But thankfully you didn’t even glance in their direction.

‘Don’t engage until I say so. Can’t have you scaring them off with you jabbering.’ He blew a puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth.

‘I do not jabber! I’m a very concise talker.’

If the past few days were anything to go by, that was definitely not true. If Tangerine had to so much as hear another whisper of one of Lemon’s cartoon trains in conversation then his brain would start leaking from his ears.

The moment he saw you sit down through the cafe’s window he flicked his cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe. There was no time to waste.

Lemon frowned. ‘Pick that up.’

‘No.’

‘The planet is dying and you’re littering the ground with your rubbish!’ He maintained, ‘If anything it’s just a waste of a cig!’

Tangerine didn't offer a reply.

The café was a little quieter than when you’d last been in. Customers were sparse and the staff dawdled and chatted between themselves. One of them offered you a warm smile of recognition. Her eyes lit up and her pink-painted lips stretched into a wide smile as she greeted you. The music in the cafe wasn't too loud today, just loud enough to make its presence known.

Taking a seat at the same place you always did, you looked out the window to the street and passersby. The street was packed full of cars parked on either side jutting out like black piano keys but the road itself was quiet. Every half a minute or so a car drove past and the pleasant sound of rainwater splashing against the wheels filled your ears.

The few people that also sat in the café didn't seem worth any worries you might have. There was a man with a heavily receded hairline and thick-lensed glasses on the end of his nose reading a newspaper as he sipped his drink. Two women sat talking quietly amongst themselves at the other end, excitedly showing each other photos of their pets as they shared a blueberry muffin.

You should have been analysing these people, seeing if they were potential threats to you. Anyone could have been right now, even the baristas. But your soul had grown heavy and tired. All this running and hiding and looking over your shoulder was exhausting. You’d barely slept, barely ate. So just for a moment, you decided to let yourself breathe. You closed your eyes and listened to the soft murmur of the song in the background, of the water occasionally splashing on the road.

The sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted your thoughts.

‘Mind if we join you?’

Your eyes snapped open and you immediately met the gaze of two men standing at your table. The taller of the two with white-tipped and tightly coiled hair smiled at you broadly, with almost perfectly white teeth. The man at his side looked between you and the customer reading the newspaper a few tables down like he was trying to assess something about him. He had his hair slicked back so faultlessly that you were surprised to see the ends fighting to snap back into their natural curl when he turned his head.

You tried not to panic. At the very least you tried not to let the two men know you were panicking, that you knew they were probably the harbingers of your death. The shorter of the two held out his hand the moment you took a particularly sharp breath as if to reassure you.

‘Don’t worry. We’re not here to hurt you.’ He spoke quietly.

You found that incredibly hard to believe.

They outwardly greeted you like old friends, false familiarity etched across their faces. To anyone else, they must've looked normal because no one even looked at them strangely. But to you, they dressed like assassins. Or maybe people who worked in especially high-end finance. These two men looked dangerous. Not in the way that they would hurt you or mean anyone any harm on the day-to-day. They might have even been good people if you could ignore the part about being contract killers. But even so, they looked like they’d do anything for the right price and that made them dangerous to you with the price on your head. Two weeks ago you wouldn’t have had a clue about any of that but oh, how quickly sensibilities change.

‘Mind if we sit down?’ The taller man asked again.

They each took a seat opposite you without you answering, too frozen to even nod or shake your head. Some small part of you thought it was oddly polite that they at least waited a moment before taking a seat regardless.

‘Excuse me?’ the taller man asked the barista as she set your drink down in front of you, ‘Could I get a latte, please? With three sugars and a pump of caramel if you don’t mind.’ He smiled broadly at her, politely even.

‘Of course!’ she scribbled something very hastily in her notebook with a pen whose end was chewed into oblivion, ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked the other man.

‘No, thank you.’ he replied, ‘But can you put his latte in a to-go cup, please? We won't be staying long.’

You didn’t get to soak in their unusual politeness for trained killers, you were too busy looking for a way out of this. As tired of running as you were, you weren’t ready to die just yet.

As the barista walked off you eyed the door and Tangerine noticed. ‘Listen, we know you’re on the run from some very bad people and-‘

‘What?’ You interrupted him, ‘You’re going to try and convince me that you’re not one of those very bad people?’

He was taken aback by your attitude if only for a moment. But his painfully blue eyes almost burned you as he watched you sip your drink.

‘Nah. But we were hired to protect you.’ Lemon answered for him.

You made a face that Tangerine thought was oddly cute. It was the kind of face you might pull if someone just told you the sky was actually green instead of blue. Despite your confusion at Lemon's statement you didn’t seem too disturbed by his admission that they were in fact very bad people. You were right of course but it struck a nerve within Tangerine that he didn’t like. Lemon couldn’t have cared less.

‘By who?’ You questioned, eyes narrowed.

‘No idea. He never gave a name, never saw his face. But he hired us to get you out here and bring you somewhere he thinks you’ll be safe.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Cause if we wanted you dead, we’d have killed you like fifteen minutes ago.’ The taller one replied.

You liked him, you decided. He was straight to the point but in an endearing, aloof way. Unlike his partner with the crease between his brows and a voice like he contemplated every word he spoke. He was calm but too calm to the point where you knew that was just a front.

‘What happens if I try to run?’ You asked, receiving a groan from them almost in unison.

The shorter man cleared his throat and adjusted his cufflinks before leaning forward so he could speak to you softly. He noted how the baristas eyed your table with suspicion. They seemed fond of you, he thought, and he didn't want to cause a scene.

‘Well, we certainly won’t try to stop you. But the way I see it? You can leave the city with Lemon and me or you’ll probably end up leaving in a body bag. Because if we’ve found you? It won’t be long until the people who actually want to hurt you will too.’

You sat for a moment, weighing up your options. Neither were ideal. You could run and go back to the way things had been for the past few weeks - All this running and hiding. Or you could go with these two complete strangers who promised to protect you and risk what little safety you had built for yourself. But what good is safety if it’s fleeting? Their employer, whoever he was, might be able to offer a more permanent solution to your problem even if he has an ulterior motive too.

As you were mulling things over, a sudden realisation dawned on you. ‘Wait, I’m sorry. Your name is Lemon?’

‘Yep! I’m Lemon, that’s Tangerine. They’re our operational names.’ He held out a hand for to you shake as the barista brought him his latte, ‘Nice to meet you!’

Well, there goes their cover for being your old friends.

‘We don't have time for this,’ Tangerine griped. ‘Are you coming with us or not?’

You liked making this man irritated, you decided. It was a good look on him. You liked the way he thumbed one of the thick golden rings on his fingers and his face set into a hard line. Lemon seemed taken aback by Tangerine’s impoliteness but didn’t comment on it.

‘Half the city’s underground wants you dead,' He continued, 'Every gang in competition with Hollow Eye that’s worth their weight in coke is probably tearing up the floorboards of everything even remotely resembling a safe house looking for you right now. So if you’re coming then we need to go.’

So against your better judgment, you took their word for it.

tagging: @icy-spicy @simpingforclaudette (if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this fic then please feel free to send an ask/message/comment <3)

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train movie #tangerine x reader #bullet train 2022 #bullet train #only if for a night #fic #my writing #k.exe #fanfiction #series

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em-prentiss · 2 months

Text

picture of your face in an invisible locket

-----

“You’ve got a team of master profilers,” Emily crosses her arms and leans against the counter. She shrugs casually, a smile on her lips, “It should be easy for them to figure it out, don’t you think?”

Aaron laughs. “Deceiving them on your first day?”

“It’s not deception,” she refutes. “I’m just…testing their skills.” She winks at him.

Or, Emily joins the BAU from Interpol. How long will it take for the team to realize she and Aaron are married?

Chapter 2

Word count: 6.2k

-----

1996

“You’re not supposed to smoke on the premises.”

Emily turns to find a security guard looking disapprovingly at her, his hands stiff at his sides and his brows drawn tight in annoyance.

She blows out her smoke in his face and smiles to herself when he continues glaring at her through it.

“Really?” She drawls as she takes another drag, her eyes sweeping over him. His hair is neatly parted, his dark suit just a little loose at the shoulders. Every button is perfectly done, every inch of fabric meticulously pressed and unwrinkled. It fills her with the urge to mess him up, run her fingers through his lightly gelled hair and see what he’ll do as it flops over his forehead. She feels a familiar tug in her gut when her eyes meet his.

“Who told you that, Agent?” She turns her head to blow out the smoke this time, feeling his gaze burn her skin as she does. She inhales the sticky summer air before she turns back to him lazily, her long hair spilling over one pale shoulder.

“The ambassador made it perfectly clear.” He says tightly. His voice is low and smooth, and for a delirious second Emily wonders how it would sound breathless and panting.

She really needs to get laid.

Emily smiles. “For employees, maybe.”

Aaron’s patience grows thin. He did a last sweep of the grounds out of courtesy before he leaves, but now he’s really fucking regretting it. He can hear his watch tick in the silence, time crawling closer to midnight.

“Can you put it out?” He scowls at the burning cigarette held between her fingers, the glowing tip traveling closer to her knuckles.

Emily idly taps it, sending ash fluttering to the floor. It lands next to his shiny shoes. “The ambassador has better things to worry about than people smoking on the grounds,” she muses as she puts it to her lips again.

Aaron bites back a sigh. By now he can tell she’s Emily, the ambassador’s daughter who wreaks havoc and chases away the security guards. He knows it’s not personal, she’s just rebelling against anything and everything, but he doesn’t want to deal with this right now. Or probably ever.

“I’m just trying to do my job.” He says tiredly.

“Your job doesn’t apply to me,” she says flippantly, waving him away.

It actually largely applies to her, but he’s not going to argue with her. Emily finally stubs the cigarette and tosses it into the grass, breathing out slowly, smoke coming out of her nostrils.

Aaron breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Her resounding hum tells him she didn’t do it for him, but he doesn’t particularly care. He turns on his heel and promptly heads home, his tired shoulders slumping when he gets into his car.

And that’s how it begins. From that night she’s seemingly everywhere he goes, in the kitchen and the grounds and dangling from balconies, books and more cigarettes balanced between her fingers.

He feels the pull of intrigue one night when she teeters past him on her heels. She stumbles and he quickly grabs her elbow, rightening her before she falls.

Emily blinks at him. “Thanks,” she slurs. She’s steady now but his hand is still on her elbow, large and warm. She looks down at it and he pulls away.

“Sure,” Aaron clears his throat. He returns to his perch against the wall, his brows lifting in surprise when Emily follows him. Her back thuds against the wall as she leans against it.

“What was your name again?” She asks as she digs into her purse. Her dark hair falls in front of her face, obscuring her features from him. Aaron finds he can still imagine them perfectly beneath her hair, and when she finally finds what she’s looking for and tosses her hair back, coffee dark eyes stare into his.

“Aaron. Aaron Hotchner.”

Emily hums slowly. He hears a click and looks down at her hands, sighing in dismay when she starts lighting another cigarette.

“You can’t-”

“What do you know about the stars, Aaron?” She asks as she looks up at the sky.

He can’t speak for a moment, his stomach lurching at the way she said his name. Slow, lazy, like the smoke curling languidly around her fingers. She looks back at him and he shrugs as he clears his throat, fixing his eyes on the sky above them. “They’re balls of gas, I guess,” he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The sun is a star.”

Emily smiles as she looks up. The stars are scarce here, nowhere near as bright as they are in the Alps, but the ambassador’s estate is isolated enough that she sees a little more than she normally would at the heart of DC.

“D’you know any myths?”

Aaron stuffs his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but he’s nowhere near the end of his shift yet so he indulges her. “I only know one—Orion. The hunter,” he says, and Emily nods.

Her eyes snag on Orion’s Belt as she takes a small drag of the cigarette. “Do you see it right now?” She asks him.

Aaron nods. Emily points to the star directly under the belt. “You see that star in the corner? The one under the belt?”

He squints for a moment before following the direction of her finger, her bitten nail leading him to a bright star. “I see it,” he murmurs.

“That’s Rigel,” she tells him. “Keep lookin’ at it, don’t lose it. If you just look to the right,” she draws a vague shape with her finger, “you’ll find Eridanus.”

Aaron looks to the right. His eyes catch on a strange shape, the stars fainter in this one than in Orion. “I don’t really know what I’m looking at,” he confesses.

“It’s the river,” Emily says. She throws the cigarette on the floor and crushes it beneath her heel, grabbing Aaron’s arm by the sleeve and drawing the shape of the constellation. He’s frozen for a minute, unable to think of anything but the weight of her hand on his arm. Their skin doesn’t even touch, but his throat closes at the casualness of the gesture.

“See,” she murmurs as she moves his arm, absently feeling the strength of it beneath her fingers. The stars shine faintly, her practiced eyes catching the shape easily, but something’s different this time. “Huh,” Emily tilts her head as she looks at it, her hazy mind replacing the usual image of the river with something else.

“It looks like a worm,” she laughs suddenly, the sound gritty as it escapes the back of her throat. She drops Aaron’s hand as she doubles over, her back shaking with breathless giggles.

Aaron looks at her in bewilderment. He turns back to the constellation, vaguely able to see it now, and his lips quirk upward when his eyes trace the shape. It does kind of look like a worm.

Emily is still bent in half, clutching her stomach as her laughs break the silence of the night. She wobbles on her heels as she tries to straighten, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Okay,” Aaron grabs her elbow again as she lurches forward, unsteady. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes bright from the alcohol. Tiny giggles escape her as she looks up again, making his stomach twist. “Bedtime for you now,” he mutters under his breath.

“I promise you it’s not that funny,” Aaron says as he lightly tugs her inside the house. Emily stumbles forward and he places his other hand on her back, his fingers catching the soft tips of her hair.

“Is too,” she laughs, squinting when they walk into the bright foyer.

“You’ll think otherwise in the morning,” he says as he walks her to the stairs. “Get some sleep.”

“Y’re no fun, Agent,” she sticks her tongue out at him. “Agent Aaron,” she muses as she kicks off her heels, suddenly shrinking down. The top of her head is level with his chin and he looks down slightly, biting back a smile when she raises her head to look up at him.

“No, that’s not how these things work, is it? Agent—what was your last name? Hotchner.” She snaps her fingers in triumph before he can answer, looking awfully pleased with herself.

“Agent Hotchner,” Emily slurs as she points at him, “you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

Aaron snorts. Emily’s eyes light up when his dimples pop out, deep in his cheeks as he chuckles. “You’re not wrong about that, actually,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair and looking down at his watch, surprised to see his shift ended ten minutes ago.

“Are you fine to go up on your own?” He asks, strangely wanting to prolong their contact.

Emily scowls at him. “Perfectly.” She declares, looking at him over her shoulder as she grips the railing with one hand, the other holding her heels. She’s so focused on him she almost trips again, but she catches herself just before she face plants on the stairs.

Aaron coughs to hide a laugh. “I heard that, Hotchner!” She yells, and he chuckles outright this time. Emily finally reaches the top of the stairs and flips him off before she stalks off to her room.

“Good night, Miss Prentiss,” Aaron calls out, smiling to himself when she doesn’t respond. He hears her bedroom door thud closed and turns to leave, still smiling as he climbs into his car.

It only takes two months before he finds himself pressed against her, his lips firm on hers to taste her laugh on his tongue. He still remembers the way she bit his lip and grabbed him by his tie to keep him close, how he knew in that moment he was so deeply fucked.

****

Emily never imagined getting married young. She barely even entertained the thought of marriage at all, certain she was doomed to eventually marry a politician several years older than her just to ease her mother’s endless prodding.

That’s not quite what happened.

She’d just come home from a shitty day, her shoulders tense as she hung up her coat, not even the comfort of the home she and Aaron had built together enough to make her tight muscles relax.

It was only after she walked into the living room that she noticed the lights were strangely dimmed, the warm scent of food and—roses?—thick in the air.

“Aaron?” She had called out, her lips lifting as she walked into the dining room. “What’s—oh my god.” She gasped.

The sight of him kneeling with a velvet box in his hand, rose petals and candles scattered on the dining table behind him, was enough to make her heart stutter.

Immediately the stress of her horrible day melted off her shoulders, the fact that he could turn her mood around effortlessly making her sob before he could even speak out the words. She had knelt in front of him, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him firmly, her desperate yes lost between their lips.

2010

Emily runs to the door and opens it a little too forcefully, startling Aaron. Her eyes are rimmed red, the lines of her face tight with tension, and when she sees him propped up on the pillows, thick bandages on his arm and chest, she promptly bursts into tears.

“Hey, hey,” Aaron rasps as she leans over the handles of his bed and carefully takes his face in her hands. A choked sob escapes her as her fingers run over his temple, feeling the broken skin next to his hairline.

“I’m okay, Em.” He soothes. The pain in his whole body says otherwise, but her eyes are wild, frantic, and he finds himself lying without thinking just so she can calm down.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.” She gasps, desperately pulling his head into her chest and tangling her fingers firmly in his hair. Her head falls on top of his as she holds him, her tears soaking his hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers again as she closes her eyes, guilt and revulsion turning her stomach.

She wasn’t there. And this never would’ve happened if she was.

She barges into Clyde’s office the next day and demands she be pulled from undercover ops, ignoring his confused frown and his protests that she was one of their best. All she can think of is Aaron, how he had been all alone in their apartment when a psychopath attacked him. And she was miles away, deep undercover and unreachable. All for a profile.

Clyde sees the determined set to her jaw, knows there’s no arguing with her when she avoids each question he asks. So reassigns her to the local drugs unit where she works a desk job; 9 to 5, stopping shipments and shutting down labs, reports and files continually on her desk. The same cycle, the same profile.

Aaron can see how miserable she is, even though she doesn’t admit it; quite the opposite. She keeps on insisting she’s fine, she likes her job. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know she’s lying—and badly at that, but each time he tries to talk to her about it she shuts him down. Emily can’t even bear the thought of going away anymore, being unreachable whenever he needs her. The guilt eats at her as he’s dismissed from the hospital, bubbling out of her in the form of smothering, which Aaron takes with no complaint for once.

One day he can’t hold it back anymore when he sees her glum face as she sets down her purse, her lips barely lifting into a smile even for him. He walks over to her and pulls her into a hug, “You know Clyde would still take you back.” He whispers.

Emily immediately shakes her head. “I don’t want to go back,” she refutes.

“But you loved your job,” Aaron protests, his chest aching with more than the pain of the scars. It’s the second time she’s given up something for him. He suddenly finds himself thinking of years back, when they had a huge fight over an undercover operation in Tuscany, the words indefinite amount of time making his stomach roil the moment she spoke them.

He’d held her back even then, despite her insistence that it was her own choice not to go. Aaron feels the familiar guilt climb up his throat, choking him.

“I love you more,” Emily shakes her head as if it’s no big deal, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to throw away her whole job for him. “You were attacked,” her voice breaks, “in our home and I didn’t know about it until three days later.” She takes a shivering breath as tears spill down her cheeks. “All for what? For a profile? It’s not worth it, Aaron. This wouldn’t have happened if I was with you in the first place-”

“Hey.” He cups her cheek, feels his heart squeeze painfully when she desperately wraps her fingers around his wrist. “Stop it,” he whispers as his thumb slides across the wetness on her cheeks, gathering it on his skin.

“He would’ve attacked me whether you were here or not. And I’m really fucking glad you weren’t,” he breathes, his voice suddenly shaky as his mind entertains the thought. Aaron shakes his head as if to dislodge it from his brain.

“But-”

“You saved me, Emily.” He interrupts.

He always joked about how paranoid she was for stashing a spare gun in their living room, in the drawer where they kept their alcohol, no less. But he found himself reaching for it instinctively when he heard footsteps behind him, his shoulders tensing as he sensed a presence he knew wasn’t Emily’s.

He hadn’t been able to point it before Foyet knocked it from his hand and shoved him on his back, slamming him in the temple with his own gun. Aaron thought it was over as the knife glinted above him, tore through his body with little resistance.

“Where’s the missus, Aaron?” Foyet rasped. Aaron’s body tensed further at the mention of Emily, making him gasp when Foyet drove the knife into him again.

“Think she’ll like these new scars? They’ll be just like mine.” He mused, lifting his shirt to show him the shiny silver scars on his abdomen.

Aaron closed his eyes, trapping his sudden tears beneath his closed lids as panic raced through him. His fingers twitched and he dug them into the carpet to stop them from shaking. He gripped the fibers of the carpet desperately, trying to hold on when he felt the edge of the gun.

Foyet was still talking above him, Emily’s name on his lips as Aaron grappled for her weapon, weakly pawing at it until it slid into his hand. It almost fell from his grip, his hands shaking and his vision blurred from the pain, but he was somehow able to fire off a shot, somewhere in Foyet’s chest, then again in his neck until his body had slumped half on top of Aaron’s. He’d weakly kicked him off, finally blacking out to the sound of the neighbors pounding on his door.

Emily’s shaky breaths pull him out of the memory.

Aaron tries to wipe away her endless tears, his heart hurting at the wetness on both their skin. “I didn’t shoot him with my gun, I’d taken it off already. It was yours. The one in the drawer,” he tells her, his eyes pleading on hers, trying to convince her that she was the reason he was still breathing.

“You saved me, baby.” His voice cracks as he presses his lips to her forehead, his tears falling on her skin. Aaron leans forward so she can fit her face in his neck, the warm space between his shoulder and his jaw where she so often sought comfort. “You saved me,” he whispers, running his hands over her shaking back.

Emily only sniffles in return. She buries her face in his neck and presses her lips to his pulse, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him as tightly as she dared.

****

She looks up at the sound of papers slapping on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Application form,” Aaron says and she picks it up with a frown. “We’re down an agent in the BAU.”

Emily’s eyes snap to his. The BAU. “I—” She shakes her head as her pulse gallops suddenly. Her soul perks up at the prospect, but she squashes her hope as quickly as it rises. “We’re married,” she crosses her arms. “Surely they won’t allow that.”

“Contrary to popular belief, fraternization isn’t forbidden in the FBI,” Aaron shrugs. “Just highly discouraged. There have been married couples on the same teams before.”

Emily chews on her lip as her eyes skim the form. It’s like a carrot being dangled in front of her and she wants so badly to take it, but something tells her it won’t be that easy. Anxiety churns in her stomach as she thumbs the form, her fingers tracing the words.

“Why are you hesitating?” Aaron asks.

“I don’t know,” she sighs and leans forward on her elbows, her hands reaching for his. He takes them immediately, rubs his thumbs over her soft skin. “I mean, you’d be my boss, for starters. How’s that gonna work? And you hardly have a stable schedule, how are we going to take care of our kids if we’re both gone? And your team, surely-”

“Hey, hey,” Aaron cuts off her rambling. “It’s just a suggestion,” he soothes, squeezing her hands. She looks at him with uncertain eyes as she worries at her lip, and he feels his heart twist.

“You’re miserable at your job, honey. Just think about this,” he says softly, watching as her tense shoulders slump at his words. She doesn’t even try to correct him this time, both of them aware it’s futile by now. “It’s an out if you need it. You obviously don’t need to make any decisions now, just think this over. We can figure out the problems later.”

Emily sighs as she looks down at the form again. “Okay,” she whispers, something in her loosening when Aaron leans across the counter and presses his lips to her forehead.

She quietly opens the door to his office a few days later, smiling at the sight of his overly concentrated face as he works on his laptop. The hinges creak and he looks up, his frown melting off his face when he sees her. “Hey,” he leans back in his chair and beckons her over.

Emily doesn’t hesitate to sit on his lap. She curls into him, her feet going through the handles of the chair and her arm pressing against his chest. Aaron rubs her back as she settles onto him properly. She finally gets comfortable and stops shifting, leaning her head in the space between his neck and his shoulder. She’s quiet for a while, placing a hand on his forearm and idly playing with the soft hair she finds there, stalling as she tries to find the words.

Aaron waits. He settles his other hand on her hip, securing her on him and rubbing warmth into her skin through her pajama pants. Emily takes in a slow breath.

“I don’t like my job.” She says quietly into his neck, her voice small.

He mentally breathes out a sigh of relief. “I know, baby,” Aaron squeezes her waist.

“I thought about the BAU,” she tells him as she draws mindless patterns on his shirt, “but I have some concerns.”

“Tell me,” he says.

And she does. They spend most of the night discussing it, Aaron smoothing over her concerns and patiently answering her questions. He lays out a plan for their future children and she hums slightly, still tentative.

“It’s late, sweetheart,” he says when his thighs have gone numb from the weight of her on top of him. The inky night presses against his office window, the only light in the room coming from the small lamp on his desk, his laptop long since dead. “Let’s sleep on it.”

They sleep on it and talk about it again—and sleep on it and talk about it again—until Emily is confident in her decision, Aaron’s solid reassurance that either one of them could switch to another department calming her down. She hands him the signed papers and he takes them with a kiss to her forehead, trying to press comfort into her skin.

Her CV is impressive, even to Strauss, who raises a manicured brow when Aaron admits she’s his wife. She twists her face in displeasure, well aware of the challenges a married couple could bring into her team. But Emily’s skills call out to her like a siren, and when she sighs heavily as her eyes skip over her files, Aaron suppresses a smile. They’re understaffed, overworked, and all of the previous potential hires were underwhelming, fresh-eyed straight from the academy or barely exceeding the qualifications.

Emily surpassed them easily.

He speaks up when she closes Emily’s file. “You asked me if I knew anyone. She’s the best agent I know.”

Strauss leans back in her chair, her brows arching slightly. “And you’re saying that because she’s your wife?”

Aaron almost laughs. “No. How many agents do you know are fluent in six languages and already have experience working as profilers?” None, he knows, because he’s gone through the candidates with her. He takes her silence as a reason to continue. “She’s intelligent and empathetic, she works well with others. Her skills in the field and in profiling will be a great asset to us.”

Strauss steeples her fingers together. “How do I know this isn’t just a whirl? You were attacked a few months ago-”

Aaron’s jaw tightens. He cuts her off, “This isn’t a whirl, Foyet has nothing to do with this.”

At least not in the way she’s thinking.

He feels defensiveness for Emily rush through him, hot and burning in his gut. The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “I’m not taking advantage of my position by recommending her to you. Agent Prentiss is a good fit for the team, and she just so happens to be my wife. I don’t think our relationship should be enough reason to dismiss her.” He says, more firmly than he means to.

He hears his watch tick in the silence as Strauss looks at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses him, the situation. She nods after a beat. “I’ll think it through.”

In her book, that’s a yes.

Relief washes over him like a wave, abruptly distinguishing the burning fire in his veins. Aaron bites the inside of his cheek to hide a smile. “Of course,” he nods and leaves her office.

Five days later, Emily is officially a member of the bureau.

2011

“I still need wedding pics,” Penelope says as she folds her napkin into a crane.

Emily pulls out her phone with a small eye roll; her newest friend is still not entirely convinced of their marriage, despite the matching rings on both their fingers.

“We didn’t really have a wedding,” she says, smiling anyway as she pulls up the pictures of her and Aaron at the courthouse. They were so young, she thinks as she looks at the pictures again, her brows plucked thin and Aaron’s face carefree, his posture relaxed, the responsibilities of Unit Chief not yet on his shoulders.

She turns the phone to her friends and smiles as JJ gushes over her billowing white sundress and Aaron’s messy hair, fluffed up by the wind that day. In her hand is a small bouquet of spring flowers; daffodils and tulips and magnolias, a daisy tucked into her hair and a matching one peeking out of Aaron’s breast pocket. Their hands are firmly around each other’s waists, new rings glinting proudly in the sun.

“You look like spring fairies,” Penelope whispers reverently and touches her fingers to the screen.

Emily laughs loudly, the sound spilling out of her as Aaron’s face twists at being called a spring fairy. He grimaces as Emily squeezes his hand, her eyes bright with humor.

“Not you, sir,” Penelope looks up hurriedly, her horrified eyes meeting Aaron’s. “I meant Emily. She looked like a spring fairy,” she clarifies. Her eyes widen minutely when she hears Dave and Derek snicker. “N-Not that you didn’t look absolutely dashing-”

Penelope cuts off, eyes bugging out of her head, when Aaron starts to laugh. It’s deep and rich, making Emily grin wider as his dimples dig into his cheeks. The table grows silent as they gape at him, Reid’s subtle eyebrow raise and Morgan’s stunned grin a little more discreet than Penelope’s wide open mouth and JJ’s tiny squeak of surprise.

“I appreciate that, Garcia,” he smiles at her warmly, making her briefly freeze in place.

She regains herself after a few moments and beams back at him brightly. “Only ever the truth, sir.”

Emily can tell they’re trying hard not to physically react when Aaron wraps an arm around her shoulders, his fingers playing idly with the ends of her hair as he listens to her talk. By the time they’re halfway through dinner they’ve finished telling their story, and for the most part the attention is off them. Penelope and Morgan take over storytelling, though Aaron couldn’t care less.

His other hand on her thigh is hidden beneath the table, his finger running distractingly over the seam of her jeans. Emily’s body heats at his touch, a flush crawling up her cheeks, and she tunes out Morgan’s voice and turns to him.

“Is it always all or nothing with you?” She whispers to him, slightly exasperated as she links their fingers together, firmly putting a stop to his wandering touches.

Aaron grins at her brightly, not noticing the way JJ swoons at the sight of his dimples. “I see no reason to hold back,” he murmurs, laughing lightly when Emily rolls her eyes. “You’re my wife, my pregnant wife, and they know that now,” he kisses her forehead. “You can’t expect me not to be all over you, you know that, honey.”

Emily melts at his words. She knows this outward affection won’t last long in front of the team, Aaron still drunk on her news and softened by the glass of wine he had with dinner. He grows a little more relaxed as the night goes on and they have dessert, his self control crumbling and his palm occasionally drifting to her stomach beneath the table.

Even without the added proof of the wedding photos Penelope would’ve believed it, the love between them palpable in their soft glances, their comfortable touches. He moves when she does, following her effortlessly and adjusting his arm on the back of her chair when she shifts, rests a knee on his under the table.

Some part of it still feels unreal as he hands her his spoon and shares his portion of dessert with her, meeting her sheepish smile with a soft one of his own and a little nudge of the plate toward her. She turns to Morgan, finding him already smiling at her as he mimes to zip his lips shut. Penelope nods vigorously, not wanting to scare them away with her excitement and let them clam up, aware even with her short time with Emily how private of a person she is.

Aaron mindlessly taps out a pattern on Emily’s thigh, tuning out the conversations around him, just thinking of when he’d go home already and cuddle with his wife like he’d been wanting to do all damn day—or rather, ever since she came into his office.

Emily turns to smile at him, her giddiness overflowing. Her nose nuzzles against his cheek with how close they are, but for once they’re both unconcerned about prying eyes, too wrapped up in their happiness to care. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s go home, hm?” She murmurs. Aaron nods, feeling his chest grow warm with how well she knows him, “Sure.”

Dave watches through the restaurant window as they walk outside, Aaron’s arm around Emily’s shoulders as they walk, matching each other step for step. There’s an effortlessness to them that comes with years and years of knowing each other, existing around one another and becoming intimately familiar with the way their bodies move, separately and together. Her shoulder knocks into his, his into hers until the separate lines of their bodies blur together and he can’t even tell where Aaron ends and Emily begins.

He smiles as they stop beneath a lamppost, warm golden light shining down on them as they kiss, clearly unaware they’re still in sight. Dave turns his gaze back to the team and knocks his knuckles against the table when he finds them all looking out the window too.

“Okay you nosy people,” he says, willfully ignoring their protests, “let’s leave them alone.”

2012

Aaron walks out of the kitchenette with his coffee mug, his head snapping up when he hears Emily’s voice, the familiar sound of his daughter’s garbling.

He walks over to them on Emily’s old desk, still awaiting her replacement, and bends down to lightly kiss Emily’s forehead. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey,” she smiles up at him as he sits down next to her on the desk and leans over to kiss his baby’s hair.

“What are you doing here?” Aaron asks as Emily takes the coffee mug from his hands, smiling down at Olivia as she flails her fists excitedly at the sight of him.

“Hi princess,” he chuckles and takes a tiny fist in his hand, pressing a kiss to it as his daughter coos at him.

Emily smiles and sets the mug down. “Somebody missed you.” She strokes a gentle thumb over Olivia’s cheek.

“I’m guessing it’s you,” Aaron murmurs.

Emily laughs and shakes her head, “Nope, it’s this little one,” she presses a kiss to Olivia’s forehead. She turns to look at Aaron, her hands secure on her baby’s back as she narrows her eyes at him. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Mr Hotchner.”

Aaron’s soft chuckle carries across the bullpen. His hand goes to the dip of her waist, his palm warm through her clothes as he squeezes lightly. “Considering we’ve been together over a decade, I think I’d have reason to be, Mrs Hotchner.”

Emily clears her throat and throws her head back haughtily, trying to distract him from the slight heat in her cheeks. “It’s Agent Prentiss to you when we’re on government property,” she arches her brow.

“If this is your way of flirting, I don’t wanna hear it.” Morgan’s voice reaches them, making Emily roll her eyes. He walks over to them and completely ignores Emily, bending down and focusing all his attention on the baby on her chest.

“I don’t know how you deal with it, princess,” he coos to Olivia, lightly pinching her cheeks and grinning when she giggles.

“Your mommy and daddy make me wanna throw up sometimes,” he twists his face dramatically to make Olivia laugh. Her sweet giggles echo through the bullpen, catching JJ’s attention as she walks down from her desk.

Olivia places her tiny palm on Morgan’s cheek, squealing as her hands run over the coarse hair of his goatee. He chuckles as she buries her fingers in it, not sensing the danger until Olivia closes her fist and pulls tightly.

“Mother-”

“Morgan.” Aaron barks.

“-fudger,” he ends lamely, smiling weakly at Olivia with watering eyes.

JJ and Emily burst into laughter as Emily untangles her baby’s fist from Morgan’s goatee. “You show him, baby,” she chuckles as Olivia finally lets go of his face. Her daughter gurgles happily at her as Morgan rubs his chin and straightens, shoving off JJ’s sympathetic palm on his shoulder.

“You’re such a good girl,” Emily coos as she smothers her face in kisses and blows raspberries on her cheeks, her lips turning up into a grin as her daughter squeals. Aaron smiles at the sound too, his dimples popping out.

“Give her to me,” he demands lightly, smiling when Olivia holds out her hands for him as Emily lifts her from the carrier on her chest.

“Hi baby,” he kisses her soft cheek, his heart melting when she cuddles into the space between his neck and shoulder, a spot both she and Emily have developed a liking for. She babbles into his neck, her tiny shoes digging into his ribs, but Aaron doesn’t care.

JJ pulls out a chair and sits down in front of Emily, both of them talking as Morgan goes back to annoy Reid and Aaron cuddles with his little girl, enjoying the brief, rare moment of quiet in the office. His coffee mug lay forgotten as Emily sips from it, halfway into it and in no way eager to give it back, but he doesn’t mind.

Olivia pulls on his tie and he looks down to find it in her mouth, one tiny hand fisted in his jacket and the other feeding more of the fabric into her mouth.

Aaron chuckles as he pulls it from her mouth. “Sweetheart, we talked about this,” he frowns at her playfully and unwraps her fingers from the tie. “I know daddy’s ties are delicious but you can’t keep eating them,” he chides softly as she grabs his finger in her fist. She looks up at him with her deep brown eyes—Emily’s eyes—and babbles something to him, her tone vaguely telling him she’s upset with him.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s mean,” he grins as he brings her hand to his lips, kissing it repeatedly until she giggles.

He hears the click of heels and looks up, abruptly pulled from his own universe with his daughter. Emily grins as she knocks her shoulders with his. “Brace yourself,” she warns him, looking down at Olivia and smiling at her, “you too, sweet girl.”

Penelope walks into the bullpen, heading towards Aaron with her arms outstretched, one goal on her mind. “My senses told me baby Hotchner was here,” she says as she stands in front of him, wiggling her fingers impatiently until Aaron sighs and relinquishes his baby to her.

Emily chuckles as she leans into him, her hand reaching for his. “It’s so hard, isn’t it?” She whispers to him teasingly, her eyes bright with humor at his downturned lips.

“Torture,” he grumbles, linking their fingers together and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, her closeness somewhat making up for the distance between himself and his baby girl.

“You’ll get her back soon.” Emily soothes.

They both know that’s a lie.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #criminal minds #aaron x emily

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