#Like little chalk board friends!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norikuna · 1 month ago

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(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

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v6quewrlds · 2 months ago

Text

❝ know no better, m. barzal. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: with your work responsibilities taking you away from long island, you and mat haven't had much time to blow off some steam. his friends, however, are tired of being on the receiving end of mat's "steam" and enlist you to help.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: about half way through the nnn series! i am a diva!mat truther so enjoy. day five of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, oral (male receiving), mat’s a lil grump.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.4k.

You looked up from your laptop, your eyes scanning the crowded airport lounge. The clacking of keyboards and murmur of distant conversations created a familiar backdrop to your focused silence. You sighed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you awaited your flight's boarding call. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up, expecting to see a message from work reminding you of the deadlines that had kept you in Boston for nearly a month. Instead, you found a text from Ethan Bear.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You hadn't spoken to Ethan in ages, not since the last time you and Mat had seen him over the summer.

The message was simple: "Hey, noticed Mat's been on edge lately?"

You read it again, a hint of confusion creasing your forehead. Of course, you had noticed. Mat's mood swings were like the tides, but you had just chalked it up to the pressure of his season and your demanding work schedule pushing distance between the two of you.

You typed back, "He makes it hard not to lol he's prob just stressed with the season. Why?"

Ethan's response was swift and to the point. "It's that dumb No Nut November bet. He's losing his shit like a little bitch. Can you fix him?"

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Mat, your six-foot hockey player of a boyfriend, reduced to a grumpy mess over a bet? It was almost endearing in its ridiculousness. But Ethan's concern was clear, and you knew you couldn't ignore it.

You replied, "I'll see what I can do," with a winking emoji, feeling less than guilty for the amusement that bubbled up inside you.

As you boarded the plane, you couldn't shake the image of Mat, all six feet of brooding masculinity, brought to his knees by his own stubbornness. You chuckled to yourself, imagining the look on his face when you told him you knew about the bet. The flight back to Long Island was a blur of work emails and half-hearted attempts at relaxing, your mind racing with ideas to tease him into dropping this absurd challenge.

When you finally stepped into your apartment, the tension hit you like a wall. Mat's heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you could hear him muttering under his breath. You set down your bag and called out, "Honey, I'm home!" with a playful lilt in your voice.

Mat appeared around the corner, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and annoyance. "Fucking finally," he grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in an attempt to suppress a smile.

You rolled your eyes, your amusement clear. "What crawled up your ass?" You stepped closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mat sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "You wouldn't understand."

You stepped closer, your curiosity piqued. "Try me."

Mat rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "It's just this stupid bet with the guys. I can't believe how much it's messing with my head."

Your smile grew. "Oh, the No Nut November bet? That's what's got you all worked up?" You couldn't resist poking the bear. "You know you can just tell them you can't do it, right?"

Mat's jaw clenched, and he glared at you. "It's not that simple. My pride's on the line."

You chuckled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Okay, tough guy," you said, your voice gentle and teasing. "But if it's really bothering you, maybe you should just, I don't know, not do it?"

Mat's eyes searched yours for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his gaze. He was torn between his pride and his desire to end the torment. You decided to take matters into your own hands. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I have an idea," you murmured against his skin. "How about I help you relieve some of that tension?"

His eyes widened, and you knew you had his attention. "How?" he asked, his voice gruff with hope.

You stepped closer, your hands sliding down to his chest, your thumbs tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "How about I give you a little something to take your mind off of it?" you suggested, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You saw the spark of interest in his eyes and knew you had him in your grasp.

Mat's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickering with curiosity and a hint of desperation. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his tone cautious.

You smirked. "I could give you a reason to lose the bet?" you offered, your voice laced with playful challenge. You watched as the realization dawned on him, and his eyes grew dark with need.

"Did someone set you up to this?" he asked, his voice thick with suspicion, trying to hide his growing excitement.

"Let's just say I have my ways of finding things out," you replied with a wink. You could feel the tension in the room start to ease as Mat's curiosity took over.

Mat looked at you skeptically. "Alright. But if you're just messing with me..."

You giggled, standing on your tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "I'm not messing with you, baby." Your breath was warm and sweet, sending a shiver down his spine. "I want to help."

Mat stared at you for a moment, trying to gauge your seriousness. He was desperate for relief, and the thought of losing the bet was becoming increasingly more appealing by the second. With a huff, he stepped back, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?"

You took a step closer, your eyes never leaving his. "Well, I was thinking..." you trailed off, your hands moving to the hem of his shirt, "maybe I could help you relax." You began to lift his shirt, your hands gliding over his abs, your manicured nails lightly scraping against his skin. "You know, just a little something to take the edge off."

Mat's resolve was crumbling. The feel of your hands on him was too tempting to resist. He let out a gruff chuckle, trying to maintain his tough exterior. "You're really going to do this?"

Your smile grew mischievous as you continued to lift his shirt, exposing his toned stomach. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your eyes flicking up to meet his. "I think it's only fair that if you're going to be a grumpy mess, I get to enjoy the perks of helping you out."

Mat's arms fell to his sides, his eyes locked on yours as you continued to explore his torso with your fingertips. "And what perks would those be?" he asked, his voice low and gruff with anticipation.

Your smile was sly. "Well," you said, your thumbs grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, "I was thinking I could give you a nice, long, slow release."

Mat's eyes darkened, and he took a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that sent shockwaves through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you gave in to the passion you had been craving for weeks.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. You pushed him down onto the bed, your body straddling him. You could feel his heart racing under you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his muscles taut and his eyes filled with a desperate need that made your own pulse quicken.

Mat's hands found the zipper of your jacket, his fingers fumbling with the fabric as he tried to get it off of you. You laughed and helped him, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it aside. You leaned in again, your mouth tracing a line of kisses down his neck and chest, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew ragged, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you kissed down his body, you felt the tension in Mat's muscles start to unwind. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you knew that you were winning the battle against his pride. With a knowing smile, you began to undo the drawstring of his shorts, your eyes focused on his.

"Missed this pretty, perfect dick," you murmured against the fabric of Mat's shorts, your voice muffled and playful. Mat's body tensed in anticipation as you slowly pulled them down, revealing him to your gaze. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and desire.

Mat groaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets. "You're evil, you know that?"

Your eyes gleamed with victory. "Only when it's for your own good," you teased, your fingertips brushing against his arousal. You watched his reaction, his eyes rolling back slightly, raven hair beautifully contrasting the crisp white sheets.

Mat's hand reached up to tug at your hair, urging you closer. "Just do it," he begged, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pushy," you said, your voice low and soothing. You leaned down, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Mat shivered as you pressed a kiss to the tip, your lips curling into a smug smile at his gasp. You took your time, teasing him with feather-light kisses and gentle strokes, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

Mat's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together. "Baby," he ground out, his voice a desperate plea. You conceded and took him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring his taste and the sound of his moans. His hips bucked upwards, and you held him down with a firm hand, keeping the pace at a torturous crawl.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching the myriad of emotions playing across his face: surprise, pleasure, and a hint of embarrassment at his loss of control. You took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, and he swore, his hands fisting in the sheets. The salty tang of his sweat mingled with the faint scent of his cologne, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could bring this strong, confident man to the brink of madness with just your mouth.

Mat's thighs tensed beneath you as you increased your pace, your hand pumping in time with your mouth. His breath grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. You took him deeper still, your throat tightening around him, the sensation of his impending climax thrumming through your body.

"Shit," Mat groaned, his voice tight with need. "C’mon, babe, I can't..."

You released him slowly. "You can't what, baby?" you whispered, your voice like velvet against his sensitive skin.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at you, desperation warring with the need to maintain his pride. "I'm gonna come, baby," he warned, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming. "Mmm, I know," you said, your voice a sweet taunt. With a devilish smile you held his gaze as you stuck your tongue out, a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his glistening cock. Mat's hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his eyes widening with shock and pleasure.

"You're gonna lose that bet," you whispered, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. Mat's jaw clenched, and he nodded, the fight draining out of him. His hand reached for you, guiding you back down to him. "Good boy," you murmured, your mouth enveloping him again.

Mat's hips began to thrust slightly, his movements growing more urgent. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your own desire spiking at the sound of his desperate moans. You tightened your grip, your tongue swiping against the underside of his shaft. His hips bucked harder. With one last, deep suck, you felt him pulse in your mouth, the warmth of his release flooding your mouth.

Mat's body went rigid as he came, his breath hitching in his throat. You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of him, and gave his cock one last gentle kiss before sitting back on your heels. You watched him, his chest heaving and eyes glazed over with pleasure.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by your ragged breathing. Then Mat's face contorted into a mix of frustration and relief. "Fuck," he muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. "How bad was I?"

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Oh, you were pretty bad," you teased, your voice light and playful. "Ethan texted me about it. Said you were being a little bitch."

Mat's face reddened as he buried his face in a pillow, muffling his groan of embarrassment. You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's okay," you said, your voice gentle. "You're my little bitch."

Mat threw the pillow at you, his laughter joining yours. "Fuck off," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You caught the pillow and tossed it aside, your smile widening. "It's all love, baby," you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But seriously, you okay?"

Mat took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't know it would get to me like this."

Your expression softened, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that had started to form. "No more dumb bets?" you asked, your voice a gentle reprimand.

Mat sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "No more dumb bets," he agreed, his voice gruff. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole."

Your smile was warm, your thumb continuing to stroke his cheek. "You should probably apologize to Ethan. Whatever you did to him, it's gotta be bad if he's asking for my help."

Mat chuckled, his irritation fading. "I'll text him later, tell him you talked some sense into me." He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you, the affection in his touch making your heart flutter.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal angst #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mathew barzal fluff #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal smut #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal imagine #x black reader #x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader

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icarusredwings · 4 months ago

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Be warned. I wrote this at midnight. I have no clue what im talking about. Do you get it?

"Why doesn't this wolverine teach history? Other wolverine did"

Well, because THAT Wolverine had a Charles. Let me remind you just how fragile Logan's mental state is and just how quickly his brain can throw him into a temporary amnesia due to shock and / or panic that is triggered by his CPTSD.

The thing is, this Wolverine has a Wade. Not a Charles. Sure, Jean could probably do something to him if things got too crazy but you know just how dangerous of territory that would be. Yes, Charles doesn't have a healing factor but it was his confidence and perfect reassuring words that helped him, plus If something did happen Im pretty sure he wouldn't blame him much anyway. He knows what hes dealing with. This isnt to say that jean doesn't but I can see her panicking too much and Logan would feed off of that fear and panic and become worse.

Wade, on the other hand, is neither calm nor says the right things, BUT he can't die :D Which is a massive YES when it comes to dealing with a panicking 3+ time war veteran with knife hands. And is known to attack first ask later.

Trying to teach the kids about 'Nam, a thing sets him off. He stares off into space for a bit, Backs up and his breath gets heavy. The hairs on his arms are raised up and his pupils dilate, they widden and its as if he doesn't even remember he's a teacher.

When he starts the whole "Who are you? Where am I!?" Thing, a student (probably the oldest or one that's been dubbed most responsible) slowly just gets up and leaves to tell a trusted adult.

"Mrs. Munroe?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Howlett is acting funny again."

"Okay darling. Go fetch Mr. Wilson for me? There's a dear."

She, calm as ever walks into the class room, standing away from the door so not to make him feel trapped, and very clearly shows her hands as she gestures the kids to leave.

Backing himself into a corner, he watches them one by one leave, Gripping at the chalk boards ledge and the windowsil, trying to balance and ground himself.

"Come now children. Quietly and slowly please. Good job. Go next door to Mrs. Summers please." Sending them to the next class room so to leave this one empty.

She stands off to the side of the room. Hands in front of her, smiling softly. "Hello Logan."

"What? Who are you?" He almost hisses but can't help but to feel not so threatened. He always did have a sweet spot for women. Maybe its their scent difference, but like most reactive animals, he's a little calmer for women. A little more trusting.

"Im a dear friend of yours. My name is Ororo. You are in no danger here." She states this practiced sentence with the same whisper of a voice.

"Where the fuck am I. How did I get here!? Did you bring me here!?" At this point he's growling.

"Logan, I assure you that no one forced you here. This is a school. You're a teacher."

"A teacher..?" Just a tad he softens, as if you had just told someone who wanted to be a vet when they grew up that they actually would become a very good vet, except the look in his eyes was as if questioning why they would ever him do that. Be a teacher I mean.

"Yes. If you would like to leave that is okay." She slowly sits in a spare chair, her leg crossing, not knowing how long she will need to play baby sitter but she hoped someone soon would alert the other staff of this. It IS a safety risk after all and Ororo knew that if he hurt anyone at all he'd immediately regret it terribly so when he woke.

"You.. you told her to go get someone. Why? Who are you getting? For what!?" Another snap, as if he thought she was trying to trick him into letting his gaurd down.

She smiles. "Your husband."

"What the fuck do you mean my 'husband'!? What are you sayin' lady!?" The venom in the way he says this makes her giggle a bit. Oh, goodness. He really did lose all of his memories, didn't he? How was the same man who once was so dastardly in love with scott to the point of shredding his heart into a gazillion pieces and is married to the silliest man alive, so internally homophobic? The irony of the thought made her laugh.

"And that kids is how you slice someone into sushi. Rice not included-" His weapons tatics and saftey class is interrupted.

"Mr. Wilson?"

"Oh hey, squirt! You wanna learn how to disconnect someone's joints without even leaving a puncture wound?"

"Maybe later.. uhm...Mr. Howlett's scared again..."

You just see Wade running out on these kids like "I'M COMING WOLVIE!"

"What, you think it's funny!? I ain't got a husband lady! Now, Im leaving! And there's nothing you can do to stop me!" He goes to walk out the door only to run into said husband, who immediately hugs him.

"Babe!! Hi! They told me- OUCH- okay yeah I deserved that- no tocuhy I forgot."

And is stabbed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!? Get off me! Freak!"

"D'aawww!! Did you see that? He called me a freak! I hate to tell ya cupcake, but you're married to this freak. Now, what's wrOOW- Mad kitty are we? Woah there tiger! Easy boy!"

Logan looks at him, confused, stabs him again, and is trying to figure out why Wade's not dying. He goes to slash him in the head and wades like "WAITWAITWAIT NOT INFRONT OF THE KIDS-"

Mrs. Munroe, by now, has gotten up and left, closing the door and letting out a big sigh, wondering what shade of red they were going to paint the room this time.

She does a little clicky on her walkie and infroms all the staff about the situation and so for the next half hour or so, Logan's kids get to skip class and said classroom now needs a deep scrub.

And this ladies and gentlemen is why this Logan doesn't teach history anymore.

P.E. is SOOOO much easier on his mental status, and sometimes Wade joins, and he puts the whole class against him to make them work on their team building skills. Plus- it's funny to watch your husband get slapped in the head with 20 dodgeballs.

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occamstfs · 3 months ago

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Sticky Fingers

Junpei finds himself drawn to sneak an early peak at Arcadio Carvajal's new exhibition. When the chance to take a piece home presents itslef, he'll find himself a little more than changed from the experience.

My first sequel! Arcadio from Marichismo decides to take the chance to find a new assistant and lover! In other don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation poll, ends Sunday! Otherwise enjoy this tale of muscle growth and otherwise masculine changes! -Occam

Junpei can’t believe that he somehow hadn’t heard about this art exhibition until just now. Like many a young thirsty gay across the country he does well to keep a tab on the illustrious (Read: Hot) work of Arcadio Carvajal. Many institutions are a little hesitant to host an artist whose name may well be synonymous with sexual provocateur but, with attendance numbers down across the board, even more museums are thrilled at the chance to host a man who almost magically draws in hordes of adoring patrons.

His latest exhibition on homoeroticism in popular culture is setting attendance records at just about every museum it stops at. Junpei was beyond thrilled when his friend Corey leaked that the gallery he works at was going to be hosting an exhibition of Arcadio’s starting tomorrow! Ignoring any concerns as to how odd it is that he’s not heard anything about the opening until the night before, Junpei grabs his backpack and makes for the gallery immediately, almost as if possessed. Something in his chest flutters with anticipation as he wanders the few blocks down to the hall where he’ll hopefully be able to sneak an early peek of some of the works on display.

Making the trip down a few blocks with haste he finds there’s surprisingly little activity at all in or around the gallery. Sure it’s after hours but the night before an opening, let alone an opening by an artist as impressive as Arcadio Carvajal? You’d think there would be some last minute prep work to be done. Skulking up to nonchalantly look through the front door, he puts his weight on it just as a little test. Just to see if it's locked, no overt plans as to what he would do with the information, he just wanted to know. Just wanted to see.

When the door gives, he can’t suppress the grin rising on his lips. In for a penny, he decides. Fighting to keep his expression guiltless he surreptitiously looks around to make sure no one’s watching the entrance before he sneaks into the dark hall. He tries to scheme up an alibi as he digs out his phone to use as a flashlight. Probably wouldn’t buy that he thought they were open. Could just say he was supposed to meet his friend here, though he’d hate for Corey to catch blowback. Junpei then rolls his eyes as he figures he could come up with something on the spot, if he’s even caught that is! Adrenaline keeps his conspiratorial mind from noticing he of course already has been, as the gallery’s cameras follow the young student into the exhibition hall holding Arcadio’s exciting exhibit.

The amateur intruder almost has a heart attack as he steps into the gallery proper and the lights flash on. Stumbling into a wall in shock, he ducks behind a display case and nervously scopes out the new space he finds himself in. After quietly ensuring that no one is actively here, Junpei chalks the lights up to be automatic and hastens his pace. Switching off his now unneeded flashlight, he starts scoping out the litany of artwork dedicated to the male form surrounding him.

His excitement eclipses whatever paltry dregs of anxiety or fear remain as he sees the works of incredibly influential artists gathered here. Junpei knew Arcadio was a titan but he could never have expected the prolific art that fills this place. First things first, as he enters he sees a diptych of the artist himself, under his breath he murmurs, “god he’s so fucking hot.” Somewhere out of sight surveillance footage shines onto a man watching him explore the gallery as he mischievously smirks.

On the student’s left are a wall of nudes and more softcore fare from artists across the ages. Mizers and Mapplethorpes hang floor to ceiling alongside more modern work by Arcadio and his own gay contemporaries. Near the far side there seems to be a whole section dedicated to portraiture of St. Sebastian but Junpei is less eager to explore the thorough history of homoerotic photography. Certainly a medium that has brought him endless pleasure, as it were, but they may as well just be prints to him. No, he wants to see the real stuff.

Wandering past some dozen miniature recreations of Michaelangelo’s David made of shining plasticine latex, some clad in leather, others in the buff as the artist intended, Junpei finds what he snuck in for. Spotlights shine down unto the wall opposite the photography, teeming with works from gay trailblazers of the art world. Namely the ones whose primary focus was on nothing but bulging fetishistic muscle and strong-jawed pretty boys. Those who crafted overt unapologetic pornography and others who snuck homoeroticism covertly to the masses. This is to say there is more work by Tom of Finland and Leyendecker than he could possibly appreciate in this brief time alone.

He spends as long as he thinks he can just staring at the work. Drinking in the graphite scraped bulges and tight leather uniforms of the massive men drawn by the Finn. Reverberations from his work still echo into the art and lusty imaginations of countless gay men today. Indeed upon gracing dear Junpei’s eyes they immediately cause some mobility issues to arise. He struggles with his pants as he struggles to walk forward with a package that only surges harder with each fervent tug of his pants. His rising issue stops not as he moves on to observe the bright colors and hungry eyes of the men in Leyendecker’s advertisements. Masculine forms idealized and gleaming opposed with the raw heightened sex found in the work nearby. Junpei can barely control the desire coursing through him, but knowing he can’t stay forever the young man continues onward, biting his lip as he tries to will his boner away.

Going through a curtain into a still darkened room, it takes a second for Junpei’s eyes to adjust before he sees a room dedicated to non-western homoeroticism. Finding aged Chinese scrolls of gay eroticism he snaps pictures, quite thankful that they are less visceral arousing than the work he just left behind, though he’s decidedly happy to see some shred of himself in the gallery. Turning around he gasps as he sees something he wasn’t quite expecting. Next to a wall of more deliberately pornographic bara men he sees panels from his favorite mangaka depicting bulging muscled men in provocative poses. But more thrilling than that, it seems the main sketch isn’t in a display case. It’s just sitting there, loose, free.

Junpei doesn’t know what came over him, he wasn’t even planning on coming in illicitly, but staring at the crisp art in front of him he cannot stop himself as he pulls a folder from his backpack. Before he can even issue a command to his body, the sketch is already in his bag and he’s sprinting away. The smirk of the man watching his every move grows wider as he watches Junpei clumsily flee the scene. Fleeing out the door into the dark streets, Junpei pushes past other students thoughtlessly as he races home, delirium setting in as struggles to understand and realize what he just did. Slamming his apartment door behind him he yoinks out the swiped art. He isn’t sure if it’s the image itself or the exhilaration from his crime but his only recently stilled cock begins to harden once more.

Mind barely present what can he do but obey his rising erection. Junpei begins to masturbate, staring at his stolen artwork, panting as he quickly comes close; free hand moving thoughtlessly he feels it scrape against something taped to the back of the sketch. Eyebrows furrowing as he continues to beat his meat, Junpei turns the picture around and he instantly stops as his blood grows cold. “Evening Junpei. I know what you did. See you Soon. Yours, Arcadio Carvajal.” Junpei drops the drawing and it flutters to the floor, lying face down, leaving the note facing up at him. His mind escapes from whatever haze compelled him to commit larceny as his thoughts race faster than could possibly be productive.

What do I do? I need to bring it back now. How did that note get there!? It certainly has my name on it, and it’s signed by Arcadio. Fear seizes him as he backs away from the stolen piece, tripping over the pants that had fallen around his ankles. In his scrambling he falls back and hits his head. Before he completely loses himself to unconsciousness he sees the picture purloined face up once more. Groaning as his vision begins to fade, his eyes latch onto his legs as searing pain slowly burns through him. Cresting into a trancelike state he mumbles incoherently as it almost seems like veins are bulging onto his thighs?

Perhaps unsurprising given the prominence of Arcadio in what lead him into this stupor, but as he’s truly overtaken Junpei sees the massive artist himself. The man’s arms are crossed but the expression on his face is not one of judgment or disdain at Junpei’s actions. Rather, to the best of the young man’s judgment, it looks like one of anticipation. Junpei tries to speak but finds his mouth dry up as the man across from him waves a finger, “Ah ah ah mi ladrónito. I believe you have something of mine.” The eponymous little thief pats himself down trying to dream his plunder into existence but produces naught. Arcadio pouts his lips but there is a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Well perrito. For your little transgression I think you owe me, si? Think I could use some more hands on deck to watch out for petty thieves, don’t you?” Arcadio’s expression loses all the performative animosity that remains as he looks at Junpei with glee and his intentions begin to suffuse the young man. Feeling his ability to speak return, Junpei opens his mouth but before he can produce a word he is wracked with burning pain from the artist's stare.

Beginning from his feet, clad in the cheap tennis shoes that he wore to his haphazard heist, heat sears the soles of his feet. At first it’s as if he’s standing on coals before simmering down to the pain of sprinting across a hot beach; finally it shifts to the pleasant warmth of a warm footbath. Pain swiftly gives way to pleasure as Junpei flexes his feet just to ensure he feels every sensation he can, only then does he feel his toes bump against the front of the small shoe, just as the bridge of his foot strains against the tongue. Junpei grunts as he hears stitches begin to give way, toes blasting through the cheap fabric while his soles rear through the sides and spill onto the floor as his feet totally eclipse the remains of his shoe.

Looking down at feet that may as well need clown shoes compared to the petit ones he’s always had, Junpei feels some new instinct in his mind. Almost like an intrusive thought, he feels a need to be brash, to spar with the man he so respects more than anything. Ignoring his usual nature he follows this instinct, it’s just a dream right? Fighting through the pain and pleasure still coursing through him, Junpei speaks up, “Grgh- What are you- Are you giving me a foot fetish or what?” Arcadio’s face lights with a smile as he hears the young man speak up with the slightest amount of acid on his tongue. With no words to betray his emotion at the seed of Junpei’s changing psyche he moves his eyes up to Junpei’s legs.

“Oh what the fu-” he’s unable to even finish the thought as his whole body convulses with the sensation of his legs lengthening before they start to pack on muscle. Shooting almost a foot higher, Junpei falls back on his ass as he clenches at his calves and thighs. His gaze follows Arcadio’s as the man stares at his tight calves, expanding with each pulse of the heart. Just like every other inch of Junpei’s body there’s initially little at all impressive, and then they flex larger, and then there's a bulge that will never leave, and then there is a calf that would inspire jealousy by any lesser men who glimpses it. More than baseballs, muscle bulges enough for even socks large enough for his massive feet would struggle to contain them. This is nothing however compared to the transformation moving upwards into his thighs.

Veins bulge thick as power seeps upwards, burning warmth sears his hands as they clutch at the hocks of meat that now constitute his thighs. Junpei blushes as he sees new distinct masses bulge out of his once bony thighs. Staring down at his increasingly powerful lower body he is filled with determination to get them even larger. The need for power begins to wash over whatever ideals or needs the young man had before this dream. Seeing the thick veins clearly pump and bulge larger with each beat of his heart, Junpei traces them with his finger and bites his lip as Arcadio can’t help but stare at the growing package that demands attention from the both of them.

Arcadio is more than pleased to stare, each second spent lingering on the cock sends waves of pleasure through Junpei as his mind struggles to parse that his cock and balls are stretching larger by the second. Quickly surging higher and thicker, his dick eclipses the size its been at its most turgid erection before now and it still pushes further with each groping grasp and sweaty breath. Similarly, beneath it his balls hang lower and the few dark hairs that shade his groin grow thicker and curl longer as his heavy balls rapidly increase production of the hormones this increasingly massive body demands. He cannot help but thrust into the air, his thin arms struggling to support the power his thighs summon. Landing back on his ass it too bulges larger with every flexing movement, quickly regaining its position as the largest muscle on the body as it becomes a bubble butt that would entice even the least male-interested eyes.

Moving on, lest Junpei blow his load all over himself, Arcadio's eyes continue upward to begin the most impressive work yet. Junpei groans as he desperately needs a break from the overwhelming pleasure burning in his lower body. He drags his hands across his inner thigh, feeling callouses scratch his sensitive sweaty skin before palming his cock to a spurt of pre before moving on. His fingers trace towards his torso as veins begin to trail upwards, crossing his abs as they bulge into existence.

His body involuntarily goes into a crunch as every powerful ab cramps, sending stabbing pain and searing pleasure through his mind. Drool flings out of his mouth as he launches forward moaning. Junpei’s rougher hands grab his beefy thighs to prevent himself from falling backwards once again. His eyes almost cross as he seemingly loses control of any unengaged motor function. Across from him Arcadio just smirks and watches as Junpei’s sweat soaked hair changes from the same unintentional look he’s had all his life into something far more deliberate and fashionable. Exactly what he would want in a body man.

Hearing the strained groans and hungrily looking to the ephemeral expression dancing across Junpei’s face, Arcadio hesitates before continuing. Feeling the briefest of pauses from otherworldly bliss, Junpei cries out, his voice rumbling deeper as he finds his neck has thickened, “Mrgh- Don’t stop boss. I want, more.” The artist’s lips twitch as he is more than happy to obey the thief’s desires. After all, it's about time to get to his favorite part. At the same time Junpei’s mind flickers to the massive pecs that he so enjoyed observing at the museum as he begins to feel building pressure, increasing potential, on his chest.

Summoning a laser focus, Arcadio stares at Junpei’s arms and currently non existent pecs. He has trouble ignoring the bulge dawning in his own pants as he sees Junpei’s stick thin arms begin to bulk up. Immediately his arms fly behind him as he rapidly alternates between stretching them and flexing. With each thrust away from his body into the air they lengthen, fingertips shoot longer as his palms widen. With every bulging flex veins are forced to protrude even further through his faultless skin. His biceps may as well be forged of cast iron as they become impossible to ignore, power courses through them as from now on even the smallest movement causes a medley of muscle to dance across his beastly arms.

In between his bulging biceps, above the cobblestone abs, underneath shoulders still widening and taps pushing against a shirt that barely holds on, his pecs finally begin to receive the attention they have always lacked. Junpei’s nipples increase from the dimesize they’ve ever held into half-dollar protrusions that will be impossible to hide under a shirt. Similarly, the measly pecs they stand strong on begin to grow at a rate more prominent than any change so far.

The sound of Junpei’s shirt giving way to muscle he couldn’t truly fathom before now burgeoning onto his chest overwhelms him more than he could ever know. In the moment of them bursting larger than life, he feels himself let loose of whatever restraining fragments of his past self remain. He wasn’t sure what caused him to take the sketch from the gallery, but Arcadio knew he would. Arcadio Carvajal, his boss, clearly had more planned for him than Junpei ever could imagine. As his pecs bloat beyond reason and he feels his chest pulse with power does he give himself totally over to become the perfect, powerful man that not for a moment in his life he thought he could become.

His body shines with sweat as he finally loses control, loosing load after load into the white dreamscape around him. He opens his mouth to cry Arcadio’s name but before a sound could release he finds his godly body pressing up against one of the few men he considers an equal. His new burning muscled form grinds against that of Arcadio. Getting his sweat all over his boss, his lover, his best friend, Junpei smirks in between labored breaths and slobbered kisses. Somehow feeling the scratch of Arcadio’s chest through his shirt the new body man can’t help but frot against the artist’s torso.

Shoving his bearded face into Junpei’s neck, which certainly doesn’t help matters, Arcadio moves his scratchy mouth to his lover’s ear and whispers, “Me esperas… See you soon mi amor.” Seeding desire more potent than anything, every bulging muscle clenches and forces itself larger one last time. Every inch of his impossibly large, inhumanly powerful new form sizzles with the capacity for more pleasure than could ever be bestowed upon him before. Junpei will evermore dominate any room he decides to grace. He will do so physically and intangibly with an aura that exudes strength and entices the appetites of all, though perhaps that due to constantly sweating through any clothing or deodorant he throws on within an hour.

Feeling emptiness fill him as Arcadio disappears from his dream after whispering in his ear, the now massive man has no recourse besides willing himself to wake up. And so he does.

Junpei wakes up on the floor of the apartment he’s been renting with Arcadio in the leadup to their new exhibition, for some reason the back of his head is sore as if he hit it. Though that’s nothing compared to the soreness that absolutely fills every last inch of his body. The giant groans as he wills his titanic upper body to sit up and smirks as he sees the sweat he must have just worked up. Scratching his pits and struggling not to sniff his hand after, his head briefly filled with countless memories of Arcadio chiding his poor hygiene, he hesitates before noticing some expensive paper lying on the ground.

Tilting his head and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat almost dripping from his hand, he takes great care to grab whatever this is without getting too much of himself on it. Turning it around he’s floored to see a sketch that’s supposed to be on the museum wall right now, worse than that it’s from an area that Arcadio has left to him! Taking no time at all to question how this possibly ended up here, Junpei puts it in one of Arcadio’s artsafe folders and sprints down the street to the gallery.

For being the assistant of such a fastidious man, Junpei has a habit of letting things slip through the cracks, but Arcadio never minds. He knows in the end Junpei will always more than make up for it, always aiming to go above and beyond and, somehow, more often than not exceeding what Arcadio even thought was possible. Entering the gallery the behemoth switches into the closest thing to a sneak that he can muster, unfortunately his massive clumsy feet would always betray his presence. His lover smiles as he hears Junpei’s failed covert operation.

Standing in front of the frame that is supposed to hold the piece that Junpei is now overtly returning, he turns with a sly smirk to see the man doing his best impression of a cat burglar. Arcadio rolls his eyes and goes to grab the folder, lest his lover get his streaming sweat onto it and create an awkward situation with the mangaka. After depositing in where it belongs and shutting it into a plastic case that was conspicuously absent earlier Arcadio returns his attention to Junpei who now looks around the gallery in wonder at what they have crafted together.

Arcadio’s grin grows wider with every step towards Junpei, nearing close enough to kiss, he stands tall and the two enjoy each other’s passion for the first time in reality. Though as Junpei’s deific form clearly demonstrates, what is real doesn’t matter all too much at all. Arcadio doesn’t quite understand the whims of the world he exists in and he’s pretty confident given enough time he won’t even remember being the impetus for his lover’s changes. In fact, as he stands in the arms of Junpei, memories already begin filling his mind of their years together that are as real as anything. Looking around he sees a room full of decisions they made together, body man he may be but the two of them are more than equals. Breaking away from the kiss, he sniffs the air and steps back from Junpei.

Arcadio looks at Junpei’s puppy dog eyes and ruffles his short hair, “Now go take a shower, perrito. Opening is in two hours and you stink, mi amor.” Junpei looks down at himself in shock, somehow forgetting the cold sweat covering his clothes and nods fervently before sprinting back out the door. The two lovers remain on each other's minds as they go about preparing for opening day. Ever but a thought away and always eager for the next moment that they will have alone together.

#male tf #mental change #muscle tf #male transformation #dumber #reality change #gay transformation

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whatiswrongwithpeople · 1 month ago

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A Moment of Clarity

Jayce Talis x reader

summary: Jayce and you had been friends and lab partners for what feels like an eternity. However, something different has been simmering underneath the surface for a while now. All until you reach a major breakthrough in your research.

warnings: none, fluff, pining

notes: I got my bachelors degree yesterday and inspired by that I just had to write a happy Jayce one-shot. Just a quick little something.

——-

The lab was filled with the soft hum of machines and the sound of chalk against the blackboard, but to you, it felt like everything had faded into the background. You had been staring at the same equation for what felt like hours, barely blinking as your mind raced to solve the problem that had been plaguing you for days.

The equation was complex—far more than you had expected—but you were so close now. You could feel it. You just needed that one last piece, that one final adjustment to make everything click.

Your lab partner, Jayce, stood across the room, absentmindedly flipping through a stack of papers, his usual confidence radiating even in his quiet moments. He was focused, yes, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes often flicked over to you—subtle, quick, but undeniably there. The way he leaned a little closer when he was talking, the way his smile lingered just a second too long. You weren’t imagining it.

And for the longest time, you’d told yourself you were imagining it. That this thing—whatever it was—between you and Jayce was just your mind playing tricks, but tonight? Tonight, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The air was charged between you both, heavy with unspoken words, and you felt your heart race every time his gaze lingered on you. It wasn’t just the work that had you distracted—it was him.

"Any luck over there?" Jayce called, his voice pulling you back to the present.

You glanced up at him, biting your lip. "I think I’m so close, Jayce," you said, your voice breathless with the excitement of discovery. "I just need to adjust this last part. If I get it right, I think I can stabilize the energy flow."

He raised an eyebrow, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. "You’re saying you’ve got it?" There was a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were serious, focused on you.

You nodded, stepping closer to the board, pacing as you ran through the calculations in your head. You could almost hear the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the satisfying click of the solution that had been evading you for so long. You could feel the rush of success just around the corner.

Jayce stood behind you now, his proximity sending a strange warmth rushing through you. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low, and a little too close for comfort.

You glanced back at him, your breath catching as you realized just how close he was. The two of you had spent hours working side by side, but tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you could finally feel the weight of every glance, every lingering touch, every moment when his hand brushed yours as you passed a tool between you.

"I—I’m sure," you said, trying to focus, but finding it difficult when his eyes were fixed on you with that same intensity. "I just need to…"

You paused, your heart racing again. You needed to finish this. You *had* to. Your hand was shaking slightly as you reached for the chalk to make the final adjustment. But before you could complete the equation, you froze.

There it was. The answer.

"I did it," you whispered in disbelief, staring at the board. "I did it!"

Jayce’s eyes lit up in response. "You’re kidding!" He stepped closer, his voice rising with excitement. "Wait—let me see it."

You moved aside, still in a daze as he examined the board, the equation you had just cracked. You could hear him muttering to himself as he read it over, nodding in amazement.

"This is—it’s genius, [Y/N]!" His voice was filled with awe, but there was something more there too. Something deeper. "This could solve everything."

Your pulse quickened at his words. You could hardly contain the rush of pride, but something else was bubbling up inside you too. You turned to face him, meeting his gaze, and suddenly, everything felt too close, too perfect, and yet so right.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words were out.

"I couldn’t have done it without you." You said it before you could think, and when you saw his expression soften, it felt like you had just crossed some invisible line that neither of you had dared approach before.

Jayce blinked, then smiled. It was soft, but genuine. His eyes softened even more. "You know, [Y/N], you’ve always been amazing. I—" He stopped, his words trailing off, and for a moment, there was only silence between you two.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You could hear your own breath, feel the beating of your heart in your chest, louder than ever. And just like that, in the very same instant that the weight of the breakthrough finally hit you both, Jayce did the last thing you expected.

He grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground in a swift motion, spinning you around with excitement.

You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as you laughed, the thrill of the moment carrying you both. The sheer spontaneity of it made you dizzy—not just from the excitement of the breakthrough, but from how it felt to be in his arms, so effortlessly close.

"YES!" he shouted, lifting you higher as he spun you in circles. "You did it, [Y/N]! This is huge!"

You laughed breathlessly, dizzy from the combination of his spinning and your excitement. When he finally stopped, your feet landed back on the ground, but Jayce didn’t let go. He kept you close, his hands still on your waist, his face lit with that same infectious grin.

You both stood there, catching your breath, the joy of the moment sinking in. And then, as if drawn by the same current, Jayce leaned in—quickly, impulsively, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was as sudden and spontaneous as everything else between you two.

You froze at first, stunned by the suddenness of it, but then all the tension you’d been holding inside melted away. This was it. This was what you’d been avoiding for weeks, for months. The spark that had been building between you both was finally igniting.

His hands moved to cup your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you responded instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your heart racing in time with his.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Jayce’s forehead rested against yours, both of you still trying to process what had just happened. His hands remained on your waist, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and… something else. Something softer.

"Well… that was unexpected," you said, laughing softly, though your voice still held a little disbelief.

Jayce grinned, his eyes still sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, well… I couldn’t hold back anymore." He laughed, a little sheepishly, as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’ve had me on edge for weeks, [Y/N]."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "I think I’ve had the same problem."

Jayce chuckled, pulling you closer once more, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page now."

"Me too," you whispered, your heart racing in the best possible way. "This… this is only the beginning."

He grinned, that same mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, I know. And I’ve got a lot of ideas for our next breakthrough."

And for the first time, you felt like you didn’t need to worry about the future or the uncertainty between you two. It was all clear now. The equation, the breakthrough, the feelings that had been building between you both—it was all coming together. And this time, there was no holding back.

#arcane #jayce talis #arcane netflix #arcane x reader #jayce talis x reader #arcane jayce #jayce arcane #arcane oneshot #jayce talis oneshot #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x y/n

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sc0tters · 7 months ago

Text

Betting On Brats | Nico Hischier

summary: when you decide to give Nico a taste of his own medicine it seems you two can only go so far.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), swearing, oral (fem receiving!), slight degradation, porn with post plot?

word count: 4.37k

authors note: I really don’t know when it was that I last released something so let’s not ask @heavenlyhischier how long this idea has been swirling around… but long story short Abby posted something with Nico in his car and I was like the car sex request was music to my ears. I actually love elements of this so I’m hoping it gets picked up by y’all too. Here’s to us getting more updates soon!

You were playing with fire.

From the moment you stepped into the venue, the smirk on your face should have given it away that you were ready to ruffle some feathers. Except it all started and ended with your fiancé and how he didn’t seem to care for the fact that you disliked your neighbour.

Mackenzie could have been the nicest person in the world, but that didn’t matter to you whilst she felt the need to flirt with Nico.

You swore things were going to be different when you came home with the giant rock on your hand. Yet your hopefulness quickly ran out when you saw her talking with him.

It was any old Monday as when you came back from Pilates, ready to tell Nico all about your day and how the Slovakian lady who owned a bakery left you with more baked goods for him to try “thanks for helping.” The voice made you freeze.

Mackenzie’s voice was like chalk against a board as she twirled her hair through her fingers “yeah our sink had that problem last week.” Nico nodded along as he clutched to the tool bag you got him months back.

You froze seeing Mackenzie in her pj shorts and a little vest. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she practically flashed her tits in his face “Hischier I’m going to shower if you want to join.” Your words came in a grumble as you shoved your shoulder into his.

It threw both of them off “we were in the middle of a conversation.” Mackenzie shot back as you scoffed.

Usually the sight of you all sweaty in your leggings and tight tops was enough to make Nico weak in the knees “I’ll be back in a sec okay schatzi?” He squeezed your hand but still that made you just roll your eyes as you pulled your hand back and left to the apartment.

That was four days ago and your comments to him have been with minimal contact. Nico noticed of course but he didn’t have the time to call you out on it with the start of the season quickly approaching.

It was what brought you both to today, the welcoming dinner for the returning and new players alongside their partners and it was your third season planning the event “schatzi please can we act-” Nico began as he went to squeeze your hand “Timo!” Your cheer cut him off as you saw the older boy smile at you.

Throughout your relationship with Nico you had gotten the chance to get close to Timo, and after convincing him to teach you Swiss phrases to then say back to Nico who of course was in awe of the gesture. After that you quickly found the boy turning into your friend as he now saw you like his American sister “you two still at it?” Timo smirked as he pulled you into a side hug.

Your sigh seemed to tell him all that he needed to know as he cracked a grin “knew you were wearing this for a reason.” It was a red sundress that Nico adored on you with the little slit that sat midway up your thigh that you paired with a white pair of heels.

Each time you wore it Nico seemed to end up pulling you into a room before the end of the night. So having it in place where he wasn’t allowed to touch you, was bound to be torture “it’s all just for a little bit of fun.” You smirked as you shrugged doing your best to ignore how Nico’s eyes glared at sight.

Timo simply nodded “is it still that Mackenzie girl?” The name made you scowl “if Nico could realise that she’s flirting with him then all of this could be avoided!” You wanted to pull your hair out at the idea of his constant disagreement of Mackenzie trying to do any bad in this world.

It made the older boy feel sorry for you “look maybe I can help you.” His offer was quick to make you raise your eyebrows in anticipation “since you want to get him jealous, why not stand with me.” The idea was perfect.

You were in your dangerous dress, Timo and you actually had a lot to talk about with the need to catch up, and if all went well Nico would get a taste of his own medicine. It almost made you mad that it wasn’t you who came up with it as you nodded “I owe you.” You added shaking his hand, leaving Nico confused at what was causing the smirks on your faces.

The questions only seemed to grow as Nico offered you the seat next to him - your normal seat - but instead you opted for the one across from the captain, right next to Timo “schatzi?” Nico did little to hide his confusion as sure he knew you were mad but he didn’t think that you were going to be that mad.

Instead you just offered him a smile “figured you’d want to see with Jacky boy no?” Your hand pointed to the boy who took your normal seat “yeah cap she got you all summer.” Jack matched your tone as he sent you a toothy grin paired with a wink.

Throughout that dinner Nico swore he was going to kill Timo and honestly Jack too. It seemed the American only loved to start talking when you were whispering things into Timo’s ear. All of the things had to do with random questions but the way it made Nico’s eyes burn into your soul left you feeling more alive than ever.

Nico was close to breaking his glass as he watched Timo help you push your hair out of your face as the freshly curled locks weren’t paired with a hair tie tonight “you’re so good t’me Timo.” You cooed sending him a smile as you sipped at your drink “Nico you good dude?” John was sat on the other side of the boy and felt how his body tensed.

It took the American a snap of his fingers to break Nicos gaze “yeah I’m fine.” Through gritted teeth you figured you had done enough for now to make him jealous “yeah baby you’re not looking too hot.” You turned your attention back to your boyfriend and that seemed to be the longest sentence you had give him in days.

Nico grew surprised but when your heel began to rub up the inside of his leg “schatzi I am good.” His voice came with a warning and a cough not sure how much more of your teasing he could truly handle from you.

You instead just smiled as you nodded dropping your foot to go back to your dinner letting the night go by quietly. Still you never gave Nico the satisfaction of standing in a conversation alone with him as Timo seemed to be attached to your hip, making the captain more irritated by the second “look dude I don’t know what you did-” Johns words practically dug his grave for him “what makes you think I did it?” Nicos head snapped in the curly haired boys direction as his eyes sharpened.

John felt his mouth go dry “well she’s kind of spent more time with Timo than she has with you.”John was scared his comment would get him into trouble as his body shrunk in front of the boy.

Nico went to respond but when your hand raked over Timo’s shoulder it practically cut him off “I’m going to kill him.” His voice was rough as his hands clenched making his knuckles grow white “hey now we cannot have the start of the season be tied to our captain being a murderer.” John stopped the captain from moving.

The Swiss man knew he was right but somehow that didn’t make him feel any better “she is just doing this all to piss you off.” It was the truth. You were desperate for Nico to feel how you felt about Mackenzie and you had done only an ounce of what she did.

When you touched Timo’s shoulder it had been to flick a leaf from it. Whilst you wanted Nico to feel your pain, not even your own stubbornness would bring you to inflict those emotions on him. You also wouldn’t think to do that with Timo, yet still you were too proud to let Nico see how you constantly watching him as you hoped that he would care enough to be a little jealous.

Your wishes quickly came to fruition when Jack finally ran out of things to say to Nico and Luke’s whines of boredom got too much for the middle Hughes boy. As the Hughes boys were no longer in eyesight, Nico turned his attention to where you and Timo stood giggling as you sipped your wine.

He didn’t hesitate as he made a beeline for you both, not uttering a word as he swooped down to grab you by your knees so he could throw you over his shoulder “have a good night you two.” Timo couldn’t help but laugh knowing the that your salute and his captains not so subtle middle finger basically said the same thing as one another, the end goal of the night was reached.

Nico didn’t let you go until he got to the door of the restaurant “I wasn’t ready to go.” Your voice was a mumble that made him scoff as he continued to walk now with his hand gripping yours “when you are acting like a fucking slut flirting with my friends, I think you’re ready to go.” Nico shot back not bothering to look back at you as your lips pursed together feeling the pain form in your wrist.

His comment seemed to trigger something within you as you scoffed “maybe it’s a shame that she wasn’t here because then you wouldn’t give a damn what I did.” Your comment struck him in a way that most words wouldn’t. All of this came down to jealousy and as he shut your door it seemed that part of it could have fizzled down to the fact that you didn’t feel heard.

Nico thought that leaving the environment would have been enough but your silence only reminded him more of his much you seemed to enjoy talking to Timo “cat got your tongue schatzi?” Nico’s words had a hint of annoyance that only you could pick up on.

You turned to him with a glare “surely you can’t be thick enough to not see why I’m mad?” Your teeth bit down on the inside of your cheek.

The timing of the comment was against you as the car came to a red light giving him the chance to fully focus on you “you let her flirt with you and get it to a point where I’m uncomfortable and somehow I’m the fucking bitch!” It was clear you were hurt as Nico’s consistent effort to ignore your complaints stung “at least I’m not flirting with your best friend.” If Nico didn’t notice that you were pissed off he was sure to notice it now.

A laugh left your lips like you couldn’t believe that this was reality “Timo at least gives a shit about what I think.” As your words oozed from your lips Nico clenched at his hands around the steering wheel.

The commentary struck a nerve “you need to watch it schatzi.” His tone was cold “or else what?” Your tongue clicked as you waited to hear him throw back some lousy argument.

But instead you got something so much heavier “if I have to pull this car over you will not be able to walk for a week.” His threat made you want to squirm but your strength stopped you “is that meant to make me scared?” Your ego was always going to get you in trouble.

And as you watched Nico pull the car into a semi secluded area that was made all that much more private by the darkened skies “w-what are we-” you had never seen Nico do this, the only place you two had been together was in your room “you wanted to see me fuck you in the back so get in the back.” Nico’s expression was flat as he turned the car off.

As he went to undo his seatbelt you realised that he was indeed serious so this time you opted to listen, sliding into the back seat as you realised he had gotten out of the car. Nico didn’t take long however, as the next you saw of him was now from the back door as he did his best to find a comfortable position whilst the doors locked around you both “we could have gone home and had a nice night schatzi.” Nico sighed as he let his lips hover over yours.

His hands traveled up your waist over the fabric of your dress “would have bent you over in this pretty fucking dress that I love so much.” The captain muttered along to himself as his breath fanned against her skin.

You whimpered trying to force your body closer to his touch “uh huh baby.” Nico clicked his tongue as his hands tugged at your dress forcing it over your stomach “hold it.” He ordered as he sent you a look that told you he was serious.

His usually soft fingers felt rough as he tugged at your panties pulling them down your legs before he shoved them into his pants pocket “want you to spread these.” Nico patted your thighs as he helped you lift your legs up resting your feet against the passenger headrest and your current seats.

Your cunt still glistened even in the darker area “did Timo make you this wet?” Nicos question taunted you when his index finger ran up your slit “fuck no.” You whimpered as you shook your head.

Even as he pushed you to your most irritated , it was always Nico you thought of when your hands dropped between your thighs “oh look, your brain does still work.” The hockey player didn’t give you a chance to respond as his lips pressed a kiss on your clit “fuck Nico.”

Your hand traveled to his hair, fearing that he’d leave if you didn’t “always my pretty pretty girl.” Nico cooed as he slowly thrusted his fingers into your cunt.

In response your stomach tensed feeling his beard rake against the inside of your thigh “please.” Your voice was needy as his pace was painfully slow “please what?” His lips dropped from your clit with a pop.

Your lips rubbed together as your waterline was soaked in tears “please cap.” You begged arching your back against the door.

Your cunt was weeping as it called for his attention “such a well behaved girl.” Nico smirked as he went back to what he was doing. His fingers were long as they thrusted into your core “and to think you were trying to be such a brat.” The captain clicked his tongue as he laughs vibrated through your body.

It didn’t take him long to settle back into his motions lapping at your clit as he eyes watched you chew at your lower lip “you’re so pretty.” You whined feeling his gaze burn into your skin.

His fingers were calloused from the large amount of weight lifting that he had done in preparation for the season, you felt every detail as the gummy walls of your cunt clenched around him. Nico found the perfect balance between licking and thrusting his fingers that held you back from cumming.

He would graze your g-spot without letting you enjoy it for long enough.

He hid his smirk as your thighs began to shake “fuck Nico.” Your moans were brought on with a tug at his hair as your stomach began to tighten.

You drove your hips closer to him “fuck Nico ‘m close.” Your eyes screwed shut letting your pent up frustration bubble over as your fingers weren’t doing enough for you.

Nico always knew how to lull you into your orgasms so when you felt his fingers drop from your cunt your mouth fell open “you really think I was gonna let you cum?” He laughed as he pressed his lips against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but huff “you wanted to be a brat and not get treated like one?” Nico taunted you as he rolled his eyes sitting up straight “you know you gotta answer when I talk to you sweet girl.” The hockey player pointed out as you looked to your thigh where his hand sat.

A gulp echoed from your throat “why do you let her flirt with you?” The question was vulnerable as if your heart wasn’t ready for the answer even as your mind was “because I don’t care for it.” It was Nicos usual answer and it made you feel like everything you had done tonight crumbled beneath you.

He too noticed your disappointed state when he hooked his fingers under your chin “not when I’ve got my girl.” He explained using his other hand to pull you onto his lap “and what’s so special about her?” You failed to hide your blush as you chewed at the inside of your cheek.

Nico nodded as he brought his hands down to your legs “well she’s got a smoking body.” His words made you laugh as you toyed with the buttons on his shirt “just a good body?” Your fingers made light work of revealing the skin of his chest.

The boy placed a kiss on your shoulder “sometimes she knows how to behave too.” He smirked as your jaw dropped letting your mouth fall agape “well we both know you prefer when I act like a brat.” You shot back petting your hand travel to his belt.

The increased pressure made Nicos breathing grow unsteady “so you admit you were being a brat?” The air around you both grew hot as he clicked his tongue doing as much as he could to hide his reaction to your hand fiddling with his boxers.

A smile formed on your lips as you pulled his cock out from above the waistband “well I don’t think a brat would willingly fuck you.” You pressed a kiss against the shell of Nicos ear as his fingers dug into your skin.

You squeezed your thighs around his leg “yeah well you’re still my needy fucking slut.” Nico reminded you as he arched his back trying to push into the pleasure he felt as you met his movements with pulling away.

His gaze sharpened as he scoffed “who’s the needy slut now.” You smirked running your fingers through his hair, softly tugging at the roots in the process “schatzi you better watch it.” The hockey player warned as his hand cupped your ass cheek.

You grinned as you let your hips drop so that his cocks head could graze your clit “know that you’re too horny to leave me here.” You hissed as the sensations shot through your body “just fucking sit on my cock.” He ordered and as his eyes practically burned into your skin.

The air around you both grew tense as you let your cunt sink around his cock “fuck Neeks.” Your forehead pressed against his as you took a chance to adjust around him.

His eyes stared into yours when his hands settled on your ass “I’ve got you.” His voice was soft as he dropped his head to kiss at your collarbone.

You whimpered at the feeling, finally rocking your hips as you revelled in his attention “don’t like you in all this.” You mumbled fisting your hands at his jacket “can say the same for you schatzi.” Nico clicked his tongue as his eyes toyed over the breast line of your dress.

It gave you the confidence to begin moving a little bit faster as you propped yourself up in a way that left you almost bouncing on his cock “then do something about it.” You whined as his hands wrapped around to slap your ass.

The skin was left red but you didn’t seem to care as you continued to swirl your hips, letting your core feel every inch of him “maybe I will.” The hockey player let his fingers harshly tug at the fabric, damaging the straps in the process “Nico!” Your whine echoed through the car as the boy smirked.

Nico always did adore this sight as your now free breasts bounced with every thrust of his cock since he made his hips meet yours. He was grateful for the fact that, you hated wearing bras in these dresses because now he had one less piece of clothing to get rid of.

His laugh pulled you away from the pleasure that was building up in your stomach “much better.” He clicked his tongue before he lowered his lips to your peaked skin.

A wonton moan left your lips as his tongue swirled around your skin “fuck Nico.” You gasped letting your hand tug at the hair on the nape of his neck.

You forgot how much you missed getting Nico like this, the power you had being on top of him was your favourite since he so clearly worshipped your every being“all you had to do was ask for this doll.” Nico murmured pressing a kiss against your skin as he switched to the other breast.

Now you were far too gone letting your hand drop to your clit craving the fucked out bliss you sought “‘m sorry.” You huffed catching your lower lip between your teeth.

It made the boy grunt against your skin as your cunt clenched around him “what was that schatzi?” His lips left your nipple with a pop bringing a line of saliva with his mouth, causing your eyes to screw shut.

Your silence made the sound of his breath and his skin slapping against yours when he drove his hips up echo in your ears “I couldn’t hear you slut.” Nicos voice got deeper as he softly hit your hand away, replacing his calloused fingers on your clit.

The action cause a long moan to leave your lips “please Nico.” You whined pressing your hand against his chest causing the cold metal of your ring to cool his skin.

As he looked down being reminded of the sizeable diamond that sat on your engagement ring, he swore he could have cum on the spot “you know that’s not the right words schatzi.” His softer words could have given you whiplash “I’m sorry okay!” You grumbled growing frustrated as you swore that every bit of strength you once had as you planned your night had vanished.

His thumb pressed into your clit in response “now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Nicos pace increased as he rubbed your sensitive bud craving his orgasm yet refused to cum first.

Your eyes began to flutter as he watched you do little to hide the fact that you were close “wanna go make a mess on my cock?” He added cooing in your ear as you nodded “wanna baby neeks.” You confessed feeling your walls burn as they trapped his cock within them.

If Nico had been dreaming he didn’t care because that made his pace turn animalistic as his free hand pinched at your hip “can’t wait to see these fucking tits grow so full.” Nico barked his desires at you and it was finally too much as your body began to shake “Jesus neeks.” You cried as your cunt clenched around him when you collapsed into his chest.

With a few more pumps of his cock and a soft “fucking hell.” His release spurted from his tip and coaxed your walls.

A flurry of whimpers flew from your lips as you felt him continue to slowly thrust into you “just making sure you don’t lose any of it schatzi.” Nico softy laughed as he kissed your forehead seeing your breathing slow “I love you.” The whisper was so quiet that if you weren’t looking up at him the words would have been lost in the leather of his seats.

In that moment he swore it was just you two and the gentle hymn of the engine “I love you too.” He let out a soft sigh running his fingers over your skin in random figures “and I’m sorry that I haven’t done a good job showing that.” Nico added causing you to nod as he tucked his hair behind his ear.

You softly smiled as you had enough energy to sit up straight “really?” You cocked your head blissfully unaware of what the night would hold.

It was as if Nico was going to cement the thoughts in your brain as he pushed any doubts away “you think you can give me one more?” You were now in your bed with your legs over his shoulders “fuck no.” You gasped seeing his face push out from the sheets.

The sun now started creeping up through the gaps in the curtains “ain’t that a shame.” Nico let out an exasperated huff as he pushed up to hover over you.

Your body was tired as you hadn’t stopped feeling his pleasure since you arrived “you’re so pretty.” Your voice was soft as you kissed his lips pulling the sheet over you both once you used what little strength you could find to flip the two of you over.

It was funny that after that night you two didn’t see a lot more of Mackenzie, in fact she seemed to move out “isn’t Micheal so sweet?” You giggled to yourself cupping your now quickly forming baby belly as you stared at the basket of baked goods in front of you.

Nico swore it was the universe coming back to laugh at him mocking what happened all but four months ago. Oh how he was going to grow relieved on the day when he learnt that it was in fact he who Micheal had a crush on, not you.

#amber writes fics #nico hischier smut #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nh13 imagines #nh13 #nh13 smut #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine

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leonkennedybreedingkink · 22 days ago

Text

BRING TO BOIL

coworker!leon x reader

tags: mention of child abuse (non-explicit), semi-nsfw. i be thinking about subleon ngl

Leon hasn’t heard a word of this meeting. Virus this, real life supervillain that, blah, blah, blah. Proper noun, adjective, verb—none of it means a damn thing when you’re standing across from him, looking vaguely irritated in your little black dress.

God, what were you doing? Were you in a club? Were you with friends? He hopes you were. What else is the purpose of a dress that could bring a man to his knees?

That’s Leon’s favorite place to be, on his knees in front of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t even have to be doing anything, either, he could be happy just having his head pet by said beautiful woman.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he notices he’d been staring at the freckle on your left tit for a bit too long, clearing his throat quietly and looking away. He looks back over when you shift a little, the sequins on your dress shimmering in the fluorescents.

When there’s a sufficient pause in the briefing, you raise your hand like you’re a schoolgirl again. “Excuse me?”

Leon wishes that hand of yours was on him, preferably on his back as you scratch him up.

“Is it necessary that I’m here? It’s my day off.” You continue, the hand holding your clipboard of the meeting minutes crossing your body to land on the opposite hip, then folding your arms.

You’re leveled with an unimpressed glance over Hunnigan’s glasses. “Yes.” She says shortly, continuing with the briefing.

Leon watches your jaw flex as you hold back some sort of snarky remark, visibly making an effort to calm yourself down despite the way you’re simmering with the way you measure your breaths in and out.

It’s easy for him to tell when you’re pissed off, you’re too expressive for your own good.

The meeting draws to a close and he flips over the notes to get the gist of it—exactly as he bet earlier—before handing his clipboard to Hunnigan’s assistant and letting you wave him and everyone else out before you, chalking it up to self-consciousness.

He’s less than a foot away from the door and into the hallway when you hurl your clipboard against the wall as hard as you can.

You throw the clipboard the way you throw a punch, shifting your weight in your hips and shoulders. “Fuck!” Papers flutter to the floor as he watches the board bounce off the wall and land with a quiet thud on the linoleum, pink plastic splintered in the middle.

You stand there in silence, chest heaving and fists balled up.

Leon turns around because he could never resist a woman who could kick his ass, chalk it up to mommy being a little heavy handed in her discipline. Well, that, and he’s never seen you so pissed off.

While he can read your face like a book, you also tend to swallow your pride and any emotion in favor of focusing on the mission. Eventually, you calm down, you’ve just gotta steam about it.

He leans against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “‘S this about your day off being interrupted?”

Eyes up, Kennedy.

He watches you push a hand through your hair, hands shaking minutely with the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah.” And he can see you rearing up for a fight, as if he’s about to taunt you for being a very stupid little girl to be so upset about a day off being interrupted.

Leon holds his hands up, taking a step in. “I get it. This exact thing has happened to me more times than I can count.”

Somehow, this seems to placate you. He watches you clean up the papers, crouched down on the floor in your heels. When something’s too far out of reach, you kneel and reach out for them and he has to swallow.

“I feel like the maid.” You grumble, standing up and straightening the papers haphazardly before clipping them against the board again. “Can the world just not implode for one day?”

Leon snorts and you mistake it for him laughing at you, head snapping up and eyes narrowed.

“Hey, easy.” He speaks to you the way one does an angry tiger, taking a few more steps into the room to be by your side. Moth, meet flame. “I’m right there with you. Next time I go on vacation, I’m leaving my work phone here and not telling anyone.”

Your shoulders droop. “I should’ve done that.” You sulk, mouth twisting to the side.

“Yeah, well, now you know.” Leon muses, gently taking the abused clipboard from you and taking care not to look you in the tits instead of in the eye.

He sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, leading you out of the meeting room. “Maybe you should get changed.” He says carefully, his hand having migrated down to between your shoulder blades.

Then, an idea occurs to him, a small smile appearing on his face as he says casually, “Not that I’m not thankful for the view or anything, but—“

“Leon!” You swipe at his arm and he has to fight a lovesick giggle. Mission accomplished, your mind’s off your disrupted day off and he has your hands on him.

Leon has to stifle a piteous sigh when he sees you again, this time in a leather jacket and jeans. On one hand, he’s grateful you’re not torturing him anymore. On the other, he’s never gonna be able to get that view out of his head. On the other other hand, you walk around looking like that, no matter what you wear.

He’s between a rock and a hard place, except he’s the rock and the hard place.

The helicopter ride is always bumpy to wherever you’re dropped off. At least it’s somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere this time, Leon’s full from his previous, more exotic missions.

You fold your arms around yourself once you’re off the helicopter, looking around with a frown on your face.

Leon chuckles quietly, pushing a comm into his ear and threading it over the shell. When you have trouble, he reaches over and helps you pull it on. “You’re still mad about being called in on your day off?”

You grumble, holding your hair out of the way for him. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, of course.” He threads the cord around your ear, making sure it’s snug and coming to your side, keeping the wire pressed to your skin with his fingertips. “I think that once we have something to fight, you’ll quit brooding so much.”

“I don’t brood.” You huff, stuffing the comm thread down your shirt.

Leon looks away to preserve your dignity.

“That’s more you, in any case.”

Leon smiles, jamming his hands into his pockets. “That may be true.”

You sigh, pulling your hair up. Leon imagines tracing the slope of your neck with his nose, mouth watering at the thought. “Let’s go, I wanna be able to go home and brood in peace, sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You’ll never know the kick he gets out of being able to say that to you.

Real-life supervillain and cronies gone, you can focus on information. He was right, you look a lot lighter when you’ve had the chance to beat the shit out of something and kill it dead. You walk with a little spring in your step, now, and he so dearly wants to sweep you into his arms.

He refrains, but watches you hunch over a table and break into the mainframe of this little facility for a moment. He needs to write a cease and desist for your jeans, God. While you do that, he scopes out the rest of it, his hand on the gun at his hip with a flashlight in the other hand.

Pause, glance, listen down one side, then the other. Too quiet, it shouldn’t be this quiet. If Raccoon City taught him anything, if something’s quiet, something’s wrong.

Pause, glance, listen down another side. Leon wanders down the hall slowly, senses primed for whatever jumps out at him.

He gets his wish, tackled from the front by some abomination of nature and hitting his head on the linoleum on the way down. When it spits stomach acid at him, he dodges with a sluggish grunt, trying to shake it off and get out from under it.

At least he isn’t being choked.

Still, Leon can’t grab his gun or knock the thing silly, he’s not even sure this thing has a brain he can concuss. It’s almost sad that this thing and him are about equal in strength, maybe he should hit the gym.

Leon’s saved when you put two holes in the thing’s head. Unfortunately, it looks up and bares its teeth at you, getting up from straddling him as some drool lands on his face.

You empty the chamber into it with fear rapidly appearing on your face. He knows that look, he’s felt it more than once. Leon spots the fire axe on the wall and gets to his feet, breaking the glass with the butt of his gun and yanking it out.

He cleaves the abomination in half, splattering him and you in blood. “Are you okay?” He huffs, hauling the axe out of its shoulder and tossing it aside with a metallic clatter.

You nod, wiping some of the blood off your face. He wonders if you can hear after using a gun without ear protection, but that’ll be catalogued later, when you’re both home.

Leon registers the burning on his face a moment later, wiping fervently at his skin and wiping it off on his jeans.

“I can’t believe this.” He mutters, not even bothering to worry about his shirt rapidly succumbing to the acidic blood. You glance down, eyes wandering to the spots of skin you can see. “You get called in on your day off and I almost die because this thing is acidic.”

“Was.” You mutter back, putting your empty gun in the holster. Good, you’re still in good spirits. “Maybe I should be asking if you are okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” He’s a little woozy from hitting his head, but he’s a big boy, he’ll live. He might not if you check him over, only thing you’d be missing is a sexy nurse outfit.

“Good.” You hold up a thumb drive. “I got what we needed.”

“Good.” Leon takes your hand and pulls you out of the facility—but he’s maybe not the best man for navigation right now. You swiftly change roles with him, leading the two of you out of the facility and to the rendezvous point.

When you’re finally back at HQ being checked over, he slides a page over to you, his number messily scrawled on it. “Next time you’re wearing a dress like that, call me.” He murmurs, eyes half-shut, “Almost brought me to my knees.”

Chalk it up to the concussion.

#mine #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you

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polarisjisung · 6 days ago

Text

LOVE ON THE COURT | 40 MY LOVE ALL MINE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, jealousy

Jaemin would be lying if he said he wasn't excited. Well at least he was.

The sound of Y/n's voice, usually music to his ears was no worse than nails against a chalk board today, and he couldn't help but hope she'd stop talking. Quite frankly, he couldn't stand it.

She had been talking about Jay all day.

Even now, as she explained how she'd ended up somehow managing to burn a pot of pasta and had to call Jay to help her save it, he fought the urge to stuff his fingers inside his ears and stop listening.

Despite his usual patience, Jaemin felt himself growing more frustrated.

The tickling feeling in his stomach had quickly been replaced by a deep churning, bubbling inside of him, simmering, ready to boil over.

Small details he otherwise couldn't have cared less about, the heart next to Jay's contact name, the sweet texts he'd accidentally caught sight of, the fact that Jay and Y/n had so many pictures together that it was hard to find anything else in her camera roll. Jaemin pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. It irked him.

Her eyes lit up with every mention of his name, her smile seemed just a little brighter and her mood seemed to lift, like everything about Jay made her feel at ease, like he was perfect.

Jaemin wanted it to be him.

The giggles, the sparkle in her eyes, the pep in her step, God, he so badly wanted it to be for him.

For a moment, he almost forgot everything he had planned, things already not going the way he hoped. But still, he persevered. The day wasn't ruined, not yet. He could get over it. All he had to do was direct the conversation away from Jay.

Easier said than done when the man himself had magically appeared in front of him and Y/n inside the mall. Jaemin's fingers curled into a tight fist, teeth clenched together, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Jay lean in closer to Y/n a little further ahead of him.

A knot twisted in Jaemin's stomach.

He could see the girl’s smile, her eyes sparkling so much brighter now that he was in front of her.

That oh so familiar feeling bubbled up inside of him, hot and consuming, as he fought the urge to stride over and interrupt their conversation. The warmth of the room was suffocating, and Jaemin could feel his face flush with a mix of frustration and helplessness.

His mind raced with thoughts, replaying moments where he could have said something, done something differently.

But the wave of insecurity was fleeting, and as he marched over, there was just one thing on his mind.

Jaemin was a man on a mission, and he'd be damned if he let it all go to waste over something so trivial.

He moved quickly, with an indescribable urgency, reaching out for Y/n's arm, not caring who was watching.

"Hey Y/n, let's go." he had a grip on her wrist stronger than any other, not even wasting his breath to acknowledge Jay who stood opposite her as he dragged her away.

"But Jaemin I was talking to Jay." Y/n's retort fell on deaf ears, Jaemin's only focus being on making their way outside. Though he didn't fail to miss the way she apologetically waved goodbye. He rolled his eyes.

"Jaem, I was talking to him." She continued, softer, trying to pull her wrist from his grip, was he always this strong?

If he wasn't so focused, then perhaps Jaemin would've found the slight furrowing of her brows adorable, confused at his actions.

"Jaemin are you even hearing me?" she asked, growing restless in his grip as they finally reached the car park.

He sighed, letting his grip fall loose as he raked his fingers through his hair, huffing.

"I've been hearing you all day long."

Her heart dropped, his tone so much sharper than she'd been used to recently. His stare was piercing, his jaw set in a harsh line.

Y/n felt hot under his gaze. And her heart dropped when he exhaled, shortly and with the click of his tongue.

For a moment it was quiet, and their eyes locked. Jaemin's chest was rising and falling faster than ever before, the usual soft aura that surrounded him nowhere to be seen. His presence strong.

Y/n stood opposite him, perhaps just a few feet away, with her lips slightly parted as she stared at him in shock. So many emotions filled the air between them, each of them struggling to find the words to approach the situation.

"Do you like him?" Jaemin finally snapped, sick of the silence consuming them.

"Huh?"

Jaemin scoffs.

If she wasn't before, Y/n found herself absolutely taken aback now. Jaemin had never acted like this before. It was weird, how he was being so... brash

"Do you like Jay?" he asked again, this time giving her no oppurtunity to respond,, "Because it's driving me insane. The way you speak about him like he's the only thing that matters, the way you look at him like he's the only one in the room. It feels like a punch to the gut."

Confused, Y/n parts her lips to speak, a sinking feeling in her chest at the slight crack in Jaemin's voice.

"What's wrong Jaem, what do you mean?"

She inched forward, taking his shaky hands into her own. Jaemin didn't protest, melting into her touch. But the fire in his eyes is far from extinguished.

"I mean, seeing you with him makes me go batshit crazy. When he looks at you with hearts projecting out of his eyes, I wonder if you like him the way I like you." Jaemin's cheeks burned, the words echoing in his ears, unravelling and honest. He hadn't expected it to play out this way. "I like you so much it hurts. And everything I've ever done, ever felt, it feels like it falls down the drain the second you smile at him. I'm jealous, "

He says, not lacking confidence for even a second, punctuating his words with harsh ragged breaths.

"I'm so jealous. Because I wish it was me you laughed at that way or me you called when you burn the new pasta recipes you try out. I wish it was me, I wish it was us who filled every corner of your camera roll. Forget like Y/n, I love you, and you never seem to see it."

When he's finished, Jaemin takes a moment to catch his breath but his eyes don't leave hers once— like he's studying every detail of her face, committing it to memory.

"Jaem.." she trails off, and Jaemin desperately holds onto his hope, praying that just this once, things would work out. His eyes bore into hers, searching, though hes not sure what for.

Her eyes had always held the world, always so open and honest yet right now, all Jaemin saw was the glow of his reflection staring back at him.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she pauses, as if to find the right words to say, but Y/n doesn't think she can, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

When Jaemin looks up, averting his gaze, she can only reach up, caressing his head with the utmost tenderness and care before guiding it back down. Her touch is feather light, almost like he's delicate, a vase ready to shatter and break with one wrong move.

Even now, as their eyes lock, faces barely even centimeters apart, Jaemin feels it, the rush of electricity that sparks through him. Like he's on fire.

His voice came out in a whisper, and suddenly that raw, gentle, caring side of Jaemin was stood in front of Y/n again, his presence warming.

"I was scared" A shaky breath fell from his lips, "I thought we would crumble, that we wouldn't be able to handle it. That we'd end up like before" he sighed, feeling so incredibly stupid as he heard his own words. "I thought we'd be over, for good."

A mix of vulnerability and fear shines in Jaemin's eyes, his heartbeat echoing.

He feels like he's on a tightrope, teetering, ready to fall and break with the slightest movement. But God, he's holding on for dear life.

"I didn't think y-" Jaemin cuts Y/n off, the tension palpable. He needs to know her answer. He needs to know now.

"That's the thing, Y/n, you don't think. I'm standing here pouring my heart out, and you're just... suprised? I need you to see me, peach. To really see me."

Her heartbeat raced, and for the first time ever, Y/n truly, genuinely and really found herself conscious of the way her cheeks flushed at the sight of the man in front of her.

His hair tousled in the wind, the tips of his ears turning pink— that was his favourite colour, hers too— his eyebrows were strong and arched. She realised everything she loved was held between those features, his compassion, his care, him.

That was it.

Despite all the people she'd loved in her weird and wonderful ways, it finally made complete sense. Why she never realised.

It was so hard to put Jaemin into words, because she loved him in a way she had never loved someone else.

Because Y/n didn't look at Jaemin and see just a boyfriend, a partner, or a lover—Y/n looked at Jaemin and saw forever.

Her forever only.

"I love you." She speaks with full surety and a big smile, tears welling in her eyes.

"Say it again." Jaemin holds his breath, needing to hear her once more before he lets himself go, to become truly vulnerable in front of the one person who meant everything to him. Forever.

"I love you, Jaem."

prev | masterlist | next

NOTES | I hate writing confessions I've come to realise, but its here guys, jaemyn is official ‼️ i also don't fw writing do u wanna be my gf/bf bs so you're gonna have to imagine that i just CANNOT do it without gagging, total me problem but it is what it is , maybe I'll grow up and write it into a bonus chapter or something 🤷‍♀️

TAGLIST: @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @nanawrlds @222brainrot @sungookie @pepperedthot @dinonuguaegi @haechansbbg @90s-belladonna @bath1lda @jeongintwt @daegalfangirl @ahnneyong @jammingjaem @paper-boats-rose @iraa567 @errrrrat @kyusqult @suzayaaa @jising-jisang-jisung @soonyoonswoo @nctrawberries @wonbin-truther @sunghoonsgfreal @lotties-readings @onlyhyunjin @swee7dream @natokkiz @beomgyusonlywife @nanaxwi @nosungluv @tommina @sinisxtea @20sdiary @otblous @p-d1ddy @lostinneocity @soobs-things @odxrilove @buns-inhiding @busy-daydreaming02 @starfilledgaze @papichulomacy @grassbutneo @iwilleatyourgod @jeeluv @mystverse @meowtella

#nct jaemin smau #jaemin smau #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct social au #nct social media au #nct dream social au #nct dream social media au #jaemin social au #jaemin social media au #jaemin #jaemin fluff #love on the court 🏀

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literaila · 7 months ago

Note

Can we get a scene where reader and satoru get sent to the principals office? I think it would be so chaotic

“y/n,” satoru coos, poking at your cheek. “c’mon, i know you want to say something.”

you slap his hand away, refusing to look at him.

“you’re scowling, and your mouth keeps twitching,” your face hardens even more and satoru sighs. “just let it out. it’s just us, you know? no need to feel self conscious around little old me.”

you let his stupid arrogant voice ring out, crossing your arms.

your eyes are drooping, your neck is sore and you feel… furious, idiotic, nervous, and most of all—furious.

this is all gojo’s stupid fault, with his stupid ideas, his stupid sunglasses, and his stupid gps.

seriously, how dumb can one person be?

you’ve gotten in trouble with him before—for bickering during training, or stealing his snacks, or being late for dinner because someone forgot how to tie his shoes—but it’s never been this bad.

yaga’s never had to step out of the classroom for so long to… what? avoid a heart attack? keep his head from exploding?

so if you’re ignoring satoru and secretly plotting his demise, who can blame you?

if nanami were here, he would approve.

gojo groans. “just say something,” he pleads. “i hate the silent treatment. i might die. do you want me to die?”

and maybe it’s his tone of voice, or the innocence he’s showboating, or his mental incompetence, but you break.

“go to hell,” you hiss, still staring at the chalk board.

damn it.

he grins at you, pulling on the sleeve of your shirt. “that’s not very friendly,” he tells you. “what would haibara say?”

maybe you can’t look at him because his face is another one of your breaking points. if only yaga was as susceptible to his grin as you.

“he would tell you to stop antagonizing me,” you slump down in your seat, feet tapping against the floor anxiously.

“what? i wouldn’t do that to my favorite underclassman.”

“this is all your fault.”

satoru snorts. “i cant even drive,” he argues. “and you’re the one who made the key.”

“only because i was listening to you! you told me no one would even notice.”

“i don’t recall.”

“‘c’mon, y/n,’” you mock, “‘it’ll be fine. everyone’s sleeping. don’t you wanna go for a joyride?’”

“who is that supposed to be?”

“i can’t believe you.”

satoru sighs. “how is this my fault? you’re the one who couldn’t sleep.”

you finally turn to him, eyes sharper than daggers. his smile can go to hell too.

“i hope you’ve enjoyed your life so far because it’s going to be over as soon as we get out of here.”

“go ahead and try, sweetheart.”

“i will kill you—“

satoru shakes his head. then he holds his hands up in defense. “you try and help a friend,” he says, so pitifully. “you try to be nice and instead of thank you, you get threatened.”

you lean towards him unconsciously. everything about satoru is a antithesis to evolution, to karma. “you want me to thank you for getting me potentially expelled?”

he laughs. “you’re worried about yaga? that pushover? when me and suguru broke that wall he just told us that curfew was an hour earlier.”

“well we didn’t break a wall, you dimwit! we stole a car!”

satoru taps at the table, snorting. “dimwit? that’s what you came up with?”

“it’s four in the morning!”

“is that why you’re so moody?”

“i am not moody,” you kick at his leg. “you’re just annoying.”

if nothing else, at least the bickering is a nice distraction from the actual crisis at hand.

in a couple of days you’ll probably appreciate this moment for what it is. appreciate gojo for caring about your insomnia and pulling you away from your hell of a world for at least a couple of hours.

you’ll recognize him for what he is. you’ll remember that the only reason you agreed to a late night drive with him is because of those eyes, because he smiled at you when he asked and—

you’ll look back at this fondly someday.

but for right now you would like to blame gojo for everything and punch him in his stupid face.

he nudges you back. “you’re freaking out about this for no reason.”

“we’re locked in a classroom waiting for yaga’s verdict,” you grind out, “he dragged you in by your ear.”

gojo waves a hand. he leans back in the chair, hands behind his head. “he’ll yell at us for an hour and then make us clean the common room.”

“i saw a vein on his forehead.”

“that’s always been there.”

you sigh and close your eyes. “i’m going to be homeless. i’m gonna be kicked out and i’ll have to work at a gas station for the rest of my life and i’ll probably be fired and i’ll never amount to anything.”

satoru laughs.

you whine, laying across the desk. “i’m never going to see shoko again.”

“i’m sure she’ll visit you at the gas station. you know how much she smokes.”

you make a face. “i’ll have to find some old rich guy to marry.”

“just marry me instead,” satoru suggests, easily.

you give him a blank stare. “you’re already dead in this scenario.”

he yawns, looking around. then he turns back to you. “are you really only going to miss shoko? what about me?”

“i’ll go to your funeral, i guess.”

satoru pouts. “i was helping you! i’m older and wiser. just trust me on this.”

“i trusted you when you said there was no way for yaga to find out.”

“okay…” satoru licks his lips. “so i make one mistake.”

you glare at him. “one?”

he grins. “at least if we get expelled, we’ll be expelled together.”

“are you kidding? me and one of the three special grade sorcerers? you’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

satoru contemplates this for a moment, and you suddenly realize that he looks.. tired. did he stay up just to entertain you? should you feel bad for getting him in trouble because he wanted to make you feel better? should you care about him at all?

he taps at his chin, another smile breaking his face. “you bring up a good point. i’ll just threaten yaga if he tries to kick you out.”

you groan, rubbing your eyes, deciding you don’t care if he’s tired or not. “i genuinely don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“well, it’s—“

and then the classroom door opens.

both of you sit up—because despite whatever satoru might say, you know he’s just feigning nonchalance. if anything, he’s at least dreading a lecture.

its just instinctual when you open your mouth, really.

“it’s all gojo’s fault—“

“she’s the one who crashed the car—“

you both turn to each other simultaneously, words clashing into one another.

satoru frowns and you point a finger at him. “it’s called parking you asshole—“

and, okay. maybe its a little bit your fault.

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

night walks masterlist

Updated: 11/8/24 (tired - comfort fic)

mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤

This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

OVERALL WARNINGS: Non-outbreak AU, drug use, Dubcon, unsafe P in V, dirty talk, stalking

gif by @iamasaddie. see bottom of post for more art

reader curated spotify playlist

MAIN TIMELINE

NIGHT WALKS (2k) - ORIGINAL. Joel gets you in his basement and you fuck.

"Deleted Scene" - Joel reveals his breeding kink.

✨neighbor stuff (800) - Grocery store run-in

Night Walks 2 (1.9k) - When you don't come back for more, Joel takes matters into his own hands.

Night Walks 3 (1.4k) - Joel breaks in and has his way with you. (Darkest, can skip)

Liquor store run-in (350) - You run into Joel in public and he gropes you.

Night Walks 4: All dressed up (1.3k) - You run into Joel at a gas station and end up fucking him.

Restaurant drabble (400) - You run into Joel when you're out with your friends.

Night Walks 5: Harder (2.8k) - You get jealous. You hang out and can't get enough of him.

BLOW (2k) - You do a line of his dick then give him an amazing blow job and later he puts it in.

Night Walks 6: Morning After (900) - You wake up at Joel's and he's not ready for you to leave.

Night Walks 7: Soaked (3.5k) - You're still there and it's storming so you stay for a while.

Night Walks 8: Menace (4k) - You're set up on a date, but Joel reminds you why you want him.

Night Walks 9: Late Night Dip (2.3k) - You go to the pool and he dicks you down. Interlude: Ethyl's house.

Interludes: 4th of July (200?) - You go to the pool. POV: Neighbor (Ethyl).

✨tired (1k) - comfort fic

Beach walks - Prequel (3.8k) - Joel is acting shady and you hook up with someone else.

Beach Walks (7k) - Joel can't let you go. surf shack lore

HCs, ALTERNATE READERS & TIMELINES ⤵️

Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Various HCs in a standard format.

Pregnancy - How would he react to pregnancy?

If someone refused him - What would Joel do if someone flat-out refused him and really didn't want it?

Alt. timelines (AUs of AU)

FUTURE: Sleeping beauty (750) - You and Joel have a consensual non-con agreement. He breaks in, chloroforms you, ties you up.

FUTURE: Day walks (150) - You and Joel are out hiking and he's being irresponsible.

night caulks (100) - Joel being a rascal

ALT: Leopard print (4.5k)- ft. Tommy

DIFFERENT READERS (AUs of AU)

(2003) Night Chalks (400) - Joel takes a liking to Sarah's engaged teacher and starts to seduce her.

Night Chalks 2 (380) - Joel gets her in the back seat of his car.

(2008) Night Talks (2.8k) - Joel gets Sarah's best friend high and takes her virginity.

(2018) Night Drives (1k) - You order a lyft after a girl's night out and end up in Joel's basement.

Misc: If you're desperate: Dr. Rock has NW roleplay (1st person)

NIGHT WALKS GHOSTFACE

Every inch

Every inch 2

Every inch 3

main joel miller masterlist

Art & Visuals

TRAILER (video) by @iamasaddie

POV Ring doorbell by @swedishscumfuck.

Joel on vacation w/ blurb.

Man cave/basement floor plan

Booty text by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog and @missannwinchester

meet me in the moonlight by @iamasaddie

mood board by @milla-frenchy

gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Pumpkin mood board

beach walks collages by @lunitawrites

nw collage by @selfproclaimed-moviecritic

beach walks by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

sleeping beauty by @milla-frenchy

night walks vibes by @xdaddysprincessxx

Silhouette edit by Milla

#joel miller x reader #night walks!joel #joel miller smut #creepy!joel miller #sleazy!joel miller #neighbor!joel miller #dark!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#pedro pascal fic #joel miller masterlist #toxic masterlist #nightwalks☠️#tw flickering #💝

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bones4thecats · 6 months ago

Note

hello i would like to make a request for the first years where your friends are liking your younger brother/sister please ex: Ace's sister is going to visit and the rest of the first years develop a crush

Ace's Sibling Attracts The Other 1st Years

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Epel Felmier, Jack Howl, and Sebek Zigvolt Requester: @marinahavik A/N: For this, the Reader is Ace's younger twin. It just makes more sense to me since I don't want them to get a crush on someone in like middle school😵 And I know that my limit if 3-4 characters, but hear me out! The first piece (Ace's) is more background information than anything else! Anyways, I hope y'all have fun reading this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Protective older siblings ig ⚠️

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╚═════ Ace Trappola ═══════════════════════════╝

🪅 When you and Ace were young, he would keep all of the guys away from you. You were his younger sibling, not theirs. And he did not share affection very well

🪅 But, as you two grew up, you went separate ways. He went to college at Night Raven, and you went to a straight job with you oldest brother

🪅 Ace didn't like to, but he had to admit that he missed you a lot. You were his partner in crime growing up. From throwing wet toilet paper onto other students or teachers you disliked to even going so far as to 'hiding' the teacher's notes. And by hide I mean by pass them to each other through your up-and-coming unique spell

🪅 Anyways. One day you realized that, because of some incidents at your workplace, you had around a couple weeks off. So, you called up your brother's Headmaster and asked if you could swing by for a couple days to hang around with your brother

🪅 The irresponsible man just laughed and gave you permission before rambling about how kind he was. What a strange man...

🪅 Grabbing your bag as you stepped out of the carriage, you smiled joyfully before sneaking into Heartslabyul and hiding your bag underneath the spare room's bed. Of course, Trey and Riddle knew that you were coming by, they are the Vice and lead Housewarden, so they knew everything when it came to their dorm

🪅 You adjusted the sleeves on your long white with red accents cardigan and began to sneak up behind your brother, who was walking backwards like the moron he was

🪅 Hunkering down before anyone could see you, you jumped up and pulled your brother down to the ground, making him squeal and land roughly, an annoyed expression laid on his face until he saw the familiar look of his younger twin

"Y/N?! What are you doing here, you little chameleon?"

"To keep it short and sweet, big bro. My work got a little screwed up and I have two weeks paid vacay while they fix it. I just decided to swing by and spend a few days here with you. Because, well, why the hell not?"

🪅 Ace grumbled as you began to screw around with his hair in a noogie. You had done this almost every time you saw him at school with your oldest brother. He understood now why being the middle child sucked so much in other's eyes

"Ace... who's this?"

🪅 The orange-haired male looked up at Deuce and smirked, a sense of pride washing over him as you used your unique magic to transport a floating chalkboard in front of the group of boys that Ace seemed close to. The sound of chalk rubbing on the board echoed until a single name was left

"This is... Y/N TRAPPOLA. My dearest younger twin."

"By only four minutes."

"Still older."

"Still far less mature."

"You wanna say that to my face, you little twerp?"

"Come at me, Ace Crappola!"

"Why you!-"

Over the course of the next couple weeks, you hung around Ace's group of friends, getting to know them all. Unaware of the secret they were all hiding from not only one another, but from Ace especially...

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╚═════ Deuce Spade ═══════════════════════════╝

♠️ Deuce was Ace's best friend, so you would get photos sent by your brother or messages of posts of the two of them on his Magicam account

♠️ When you looked at the other males, you smiled and immediately walked up to the former delinquent, a smile forming quickly as you wrapped your arms around his neck and made him hunch over slightly due to the force

"You must be Deuce! I've heard so much about you from my brother! By the way, what a fun change in your life." You said, teleporting a dual-sided card in your hand.

"Going from the tough eight of spades with dominance and ruthlessness only known. To the youthful three of spades with the love of teamwork and a special kind of playfulness, you really are the definition of a dual-sided card, Prince of Spades~"

♠️ As you twirled the card around and handed him it back, this time the King's face being replaced with his own. His face erupted in blush as you patted his head and wished him luck on his long journey to his view of perfection for his family

♠️ As you moved on to the others, Deuce couldn't help but look at the card and see a little note below with the words you just said to him there. His heart began to thump faster and harder within his chest, his face beginning to heat up with embarrassment. He was never like this with others... why were you so different...?

♠️ Oh Great Seven, Ace may just have his head

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╚═════ Jack Howl ═════════════════════════════╝

🐺 As Jack watched you step away from the spade-marked first year, he wondered what kind of trick you were going to try pulling on him. Were you going to do the same with a card, or maybe something new?

"Now, you I don't know much of. Though, by your adorable little ears, I'm guessing your Jack Howl. As I don't know as much about you, you give me more of a 'let the outcome tell' vibe. You also give me more of a... how do I put this." You began, grabbing a deck of cards out of your pocket as you shuffled it constantly as all listened to you speak.

🐺 Straightening out the cards, you smiled and handed him a random group cards, having him pick one out of it. He noticed one had a black dot, so he avoided that and picked the one next to it

🐺 Taking the cards back and reshuffling them, you pulled one out and he noticed quickly that it had no black dot. You had to have screwed the trick up

"You give me a eight of hearts vibe! How iconic, yes? This also tells me you care for your family and friends dearly and you have goals that you want to meet. I believe you shall meet this very easily and without any issues besides maybe a few corrupt souls. Have fun on that journey of strength, Jackie."

"H-how did you know that I..."

🐺 A smile appeared on your face as you spun back around and looked into the eyes of the beastman. You chuckled lightly and began to twirl his tail between your fingers, the soft fur bushes upwards before calming down and wrapping around his leg in embarrassment similar to Deuce's

"Had that card? I was taught magic growing up, I work in mysterious ways~"

🐺 Jack saw how you flung the card back at him, but the back was completely changed, a print of a snowy mountain surrounded by forests with a nice house laying in the front with a pack of wolves out front. It was like his family was at their home miles away in the Shaftlands

🐺 You were far more interesting than Jack initially thought. Maybe having a second Ace around would be entertaining for the new couple weeks...

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╚═════ Epel Felmier ════════════════════════════╝

🍎 Epel was shocked after seeing how you tricked Jack with the black dot on the card. You must've had the best eyes he had ever seen, maybe even better than Rook's! And he literally stalks students just because he wants to 'admire them'

🍎 God that guy's creepy sometimes...

🍎 The sound of your footsteps made the Pomefiore first year look up and see you put the deck of cards away and pull out multiple dice

"What are these for?"

"Well, to put it simple, pretty boy. If you roll these dice, you'll either see your biggest fear or your biggest want. What that is is completely up to your own psyche. Now, go ahead and pick a dice, or use 'em all."

🍎 Epel narrowed his eyes at you and looked over the dice, a sense of skepticism running through his mind. There was no way that a puny dice would be able to tell what his biggest fear and his biggest want was by him rolling it!

🍎 The male took one dice and scrambled it inside of his hands and rolled it onto the ground, thinking of his biggest want in life. He then took the second one and did the same thing, only thinking of his biggest fear this time

🍎 You smiled and tapped onto the ground ten times, throwing one hand down before clapping together over and over again before clapping down at the ground and summoning two holograms of his fear and want

🍎 The sight of Epel being a manly-man, carrying many barrels of hay around his family's farm shocked him enough, but seeing the other dice project a scene of him dining like a little princess with a posh accent made him jump and hide behind his hands, a hint of blush showing between his fingers

🍎 You chuckled and apologized for embarrassing the young man, pulling the two dices and scrambling them together before you opened them again and showed a single dice with special carvings on it. From trees of apples to the single fruit to even a little farmhouse, Epel looked at the object with stars in his eyes

"Thank you! This is so cool lookin'!"

"No problem! By the way, tell your grandmother that your family's apple juice recipe better not change! That stuff is the shit to drink when I have a break at work. Have fun attempting to reach your goal of being a manlier man, Felmier."

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╚═════ Sebek Zigvolt ═══════════════════════════╝

⚡ As you went through the multiple first years, Sebek watched and was getting very annoyed. You were obviously informed by Ace of their likes and dislikes and their lives all together. There was no way you just knew all of this!

⚡ You smiled and walked in front of Sebek, pulling out a vile of gambling chips. The edges were stripped with the same green as Sebek's hair with highlights of black and white

⚡ Handing the half-fae a single chip, you began to rant about how his family life was affecting him, much to his surprise. He never told anybody of it, and thankfully, you were sneaky enough to speak of this while the others spoke a few feet away

⚡ Sebek watched you carefully as you tossed him another chip, revealing a carving of his parents meeting

"You're parents are a fae and human, a female for the first and male for the second. Over time, you began to see your human side as weak." A third chip, then fourth, and over and over again.

"H-how do you know this..."

"Magic, Sebek. Magic."

⚡ Stepping closer to Sebek, you noticed how your information had slightly made him sad. So, in an action of sympathy, you laid your hand on his cheek and moved his face to make him look into your eyes

⚡ Opening his hands and trading the chips for a bracelet with dice charms and multiple extra ones attached, you gave him a light hug with your extra arm and told him to stay positive

"You're a human. What could you know about a fae's family and staying positive with a veteran for a grandfather?"

"More than you think. Just remember this whenever you feel bad of yourself. You were made this way for a reason. You're a half-human, half-fae for the sake of your life. Don't think wrongly of yourself. You're great the way you are... well, minus the yelling at least."

⚡ You let Sebek's face go and yelled at Ace to quit being an idiot. And as you scolded your sibling for his idiocy, the green-haired male looked at the bracelet, noticing the charms had dragons, swords, lightning, and a few cards and dices here and there, the most obvious one being a four of spades. He smiled gently as his cheeks heated up

⚡ You really were different than your brother, weren't you?

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rey-129-fan · 8 months ago

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Gotham-Amity Co-op AU

Part 1 | Next

Wow, okay, people seem to really like this. Awesome! Whelp, here's part 2!

“Alright, order. Order.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a Triple Nasty with cheese, extra mustard and pickles.” Laughs rang out at Dash’s remark as everyone settled in to their seats. Sam, who stood at the front of the room by a blackboard, just gave the quarterback a flat look while Danny and Tucker snickered at the teacher’s desk. The group was meeting in an empty classroom at Casper since most were still Casper students, at least for another couple of months until graduation. Jazz and Kyle, both of whom were attending school in Gotham, were dropping in to visit and attend the meeting.

“We are now beginning the first meeting for the Green Amity Co-o-”

“Oh, we are not calling it that!” Paulina cried out. Sam’s eye twitched and started to glow slightly as those around the Latina nodded in agreement.

Jazz quickly stepped in. “While naming something Green in a city that has a known meta Eco-terrorist might not be a good idea, we can discuss names later. For now, let’s focus on more important matters for the co-op.”

“Right,” Sam sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “So has everyone had a chance to look over the info and pictures Jazz and Kyle were able to gather?” Getting various conformations, the goth nodded. “Does anyone have any objections on using the building as a Gotham based co-op?”

“Not really.”

“Nope.”

“None from me.”

“Okay, so we’ll put down an offer to buy the building,” Sam nodded before shuffling around some papers in her hands. “Next on the agenda is rent.”

“Won’t we own the building? Why would we need to pay rent?” Dash asked. Kwan nodded while several others in the group just dropped their heads.

“Because we need to pay for things like utilities and taxes,” Valarie shot back, arms crossed as she stared down her former friend group.

“Not to mention that we should collect some money for potential repairs that will be needed in the future,” Wes added, nodding. Dash turned and glared at both of them.

“As Val and Wes said, we may own the building, but we still need to gather money to pay for things like water, electricity, internet. Things needed to make the building usable,” Jazz explained in a less condescending tone, mullifying the blond.

“So we need to figure out how much each utility is and split it between everyone, with a little extra on top to make a fund for repairs?” Danny clarified.

“That is a start, but some people will use more of some things than others.”

“Well, we can always start with it and adjust as we get a better idea of how much it costs and who uses up what amount,” Star said as she stood up and walked over to the board. She picked up a piece of chalk and began writing down numbers. “Do we know how much we have to pay for property tax? From what I could find on the internet, the average cost of utilities in Gotham is about $118 a month, give or take.”

“That lines up with what I saw too, though that doesn’t include internet or phone plans,” Val nodded.

“Well, our phone plans aren’t likely to change, so we don’t need to worry about that. Most internet plans start about $40 a month,” Tucker added. Star nodded and added the 40.

“As for property taxes, given the building’s estimated amount, it would be about $15,900 a year, which is paid quarterly.”

Star continued writing. “So 15,900 a year is 1325 a month. We currently have 11 people, so that’d be 120.45 per person per month just in taxes.”

“So utilities plus internet and taxes would put us at about $242 a month.”

“Don’t forget insurance and repairs. Gotham isn’t the safest place, what with all the supervillains,” Danny added.

“Never mind random ghosts dropping in just to fight Fenton. We’re probably going to have to repair the place more often than the average,” Kwan nodded.

“Hey! Don’t pin the property damage from ghost fights on me! It’s mostly the GIW doing that!”

“We know, Danny, but you can’t deny that there are going to be at least a few ghosts that will come just to fight, and the GIW are likely to follow them.” Danny crossed his arms and grumbled, but conceded.

“We should just double the amount we have for now. That way we can cover the basics and have enough to cover anything that could come up, while most can afford it with a part-time job,” Tucker suggested.

“It’s a start,” Jazz agreed.

“And if we need to adjust it, we can always discuss it again,”Mikey pointed out.

“Alright, so all in favor of starting rent at $485 a month, raise your hand.” Sam counted the hands in the air. Eleven. “Very well. Up Next: rules.”

“Oh come on! We’re no longer kids and are going to college! Why would you wanna create rules?!” Dash protested.

“Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean that there aren’t still rules we have to follow,” Jazz responded. “Pretty much any place you could live would have quiet hours and cleanliness requirements. Plus I’m pretty sure there are places or things that you wouldn’t want others to mess with.” More grumbling was heard but no more protests. “Now, from what I’ve observed and read on the internet, in general quiet hours are generally between 10-11 pm to about 8 am during the week, with it rolling back an hour on the weekends. I don’t need it to be that strict, but I would like to have some quiet by the time I’m going to sleep.”

“What exactly do quiet hours entail? Is it like a curfew?” Mikey asked, pushing up his glasses and looking at the two actual college students.

“Nah man, they’re just the hours you have to be quiet for. Ya can do whatever ya want, so long as yer not disturbing anyone or keeping them up. Just don’t do anything that’ll get the cops or Bats on ya, and yer good,” Kyle explained.

“Sweet!”

“So what should these quiet hours be? Not going to lie, but midnight seems like a good start, especially if you have early morning classes,” Wes spoke up.

“Midnight is good for me.”

“Aw, but what if we want to have a party!”

“Well, if you start at 8, that gives you four hours,” Sam explained, raising her eyebrow.

“A 4 hour party seems to be enough, especially since not all of us would want to have a crazy party outside our door all night,” Val stated, glaring at Dash and Paulina.

“It seems common consensus is quiet by midnight. What about when they end?”

“Well, most of us will likely have classes starting by 9. Including travel time and getting ready, we’re likely to be up around 8 or so. That’d give us 8 hours of quiet to study and fall asleep.”

“So midnight to 8 am for quiet hours? Any objections?” None were made.

The meeting continued on in much the same way, with only a few protests to some rules, mostly related to shared chores and the creation of a chore schedule. But these protests were quickly silenced by a glare from Valarie that slowly glowed a slight red the more protests were made.

“Alright, I think we’ve covered everything we set out for today’s meeting,” Jazz said, tapping some papers against the desk she sat at. She took over the meeting as Sam grew more annoyed. The goth was now sitting between Danny and Tucker, who were both offering small touches of comfort. “Remember, if you have any questions, share them in the discord server. And if you have any suggestions for a name, please feel free to send them to Wes, who will compile them into a poll so we can vote on them in a week. Now, would anyone like to add anything else?”

A few mutters and shakes were the answer.

“Very well, that concludes this meeting. Hope everyone has a good summer, and when we next meet, hopefully, it should be in our new building.”

***

Did I seriously just write 1363 more words of set up? Yes, yes I did. I have no regrets. We should be in Gotham starting next chapter and get up to the shenanigans then.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there! I started writing this while I was baking a pie for my own mother.

I am going back and forth on whether Phantom Planet is canon or not, but either way, all of Amity Park knows about Danny in this, but not the outside world, and especially not the GIW. While I do read a lot of bad parent Maddie and Jack, I much prefer to have them as good parents that love and accept both Danny and his little clone/cousin/sister.

Sorry guys, but Bruce is not adopting either Phantom.

Again, feel free to leave suggestions for names for the Co-op, as well as for this little AU itself. Also, suggestions for shenanigans and powers our liminal teens might have outside just glowing eyes.

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hischierswhore · 26 days ago

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under the mistletoe (l. hughes)

a note from nat: day 3 of the ficmas series!!!

content warnings: none!

The annual Christmas party at Jack and Quinn Hughes' place was a staple in your friend group—a chaotic mix of holiday cheer, competitive board games, and enough food to feed a hockey team (which wasn’t far from the truth). This year was no different, except for one tiny, heart-pounding detail: Luke Hughes.

Ever since you met him, you had a fluttery feeling in your chest whenever he was around. The problem was that you were convinced he didn’t feel the same way. Despite his bright smiles and the way his eyes seemed to linger on yours during conversations, you chalked it up to his naturally friendly demeanor. Admitting your feelings felt out of the question. After all, risking your friendship seemed unbearable.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke was grappling with the same dilemma. He found himself gravitating toward you at every gathering, searching for reasons to talk to you, laugh with you, or even just sit beside you. Yet, the thought of confessing his feelings made him freeze up entirely. What if you didn’t feel the same? The thought of losing your friendship scared him more than he cared to admit.

This silent tug-of-war didn’t go unnoticed by your friends, who were growing increasingly frustrated with the two of you. Jack, in particular, was determined to put an end to the agonizing will-they-won’t-they situation. “We have to do something,” he whispered to Quinn as the two of them observed you and Luke exchanging shy smiles across the room. “This has been going on for months.”

Quinn smirked. “I might have an idea.”

The party was in full swing, with fairy lights twinkling and Christmas music playing softly in the background. You were standing by the dessert table, nervously eyeing the plate of cookies you had brought when Luke walked over.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your cookies are really good. Like, really good.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, Luke. That means a lot.”

Before the conversation could drift into an awkward silence, Jack’s voice boomed across the room. “Alright, everyone, gather around! We’re doing Secret Santa reveals in ten minutes, but first, we’ve got a little surprise.”

Surprise?

You glanced at Luke, who looked just as confused as you felt. Slowly, everyone began moving toward the living room. Jack and Quinn stood near the center, clearly up to something. That’s when you noticed it—a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway.

“Alright, here’s how this works,” Jack announced, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you get caught under the mistletoe, you’ve got to kiss. No exceptions.”

Laughter and groans erupted from the group. You felt a sense of dread creeping up. This was exactly the situation you’d rather avoid—especially with Luke standing so close to you.

But Jack wasn’t done. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, his gaze locking onto you and Luke, “we already caught two people."

Your stomach dropped as Jack’s finger pointed directly at you. Then at Luke.

“Wait, what?” you stammered, your eyes widening.

“Come on, guys,” Jack said, grinning from ear to ear. “Rules are rules.”

You glanced at Luke, who looked equally stunned. The room had gone silent, all eyes on the two of you. Your heart raced as you tried to think of a way out, but Jack’s smug expression made it clear there was no escape.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Luke murmured, his voice barely audible. His cheeks were tinged pink, and he couldn’t quite meet your gaze.

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, and suddenly, the fear melted away. Maybe this was the push you both needed.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

Slowly, Luke stepped closer. The world seemed to fade away as he cupped your cheek, his touch hesitant but gentle. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that left your heart soaring.

Cheers and whistles erupted around you, pulling you back to reality. You pulled away, your face burning, but the smile on Luke’s face made it all worth it.

“About time,” Jack muttered, earning a shove from Quinn.

Luke laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I, uh, was meaning to tell you something,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling bolder now.

“Maybe we can talk after this?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I’d like that.”

And as the party continued, the tension that had once held you and Luke back melted away, leaving only the promise of something new, something wonderful, waiting to unfold.

Later in the evening, you found yourself on the back porch, bundled up in a cozy sweater and holding a cup of hot cocoa. The stars glittered above, their light reflecting off the blanket of snow. Luke joined you, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hey,” he said softly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Needed some fresh air?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s been… a lot tonight.”

Luke chuckled. “Tell me about it. Jack’s not going to let us live this down.”

You laughed along with him, feeling the tension melt away once more. For a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, the crisp winter air wrapping around you both.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luke finally said, his voice hesitant but steady. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

Your heart fluttered. “Me too,” you replied, turning to face him.

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. And I didn’t know how to say it, but… tonight felt like the right time.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, brighter than the chill in the air. “I like you too, Luke. I… I’ve been scared to say anything, but I’m glad you did.”

A wide grin broke across his face, and he stepped closer. “So… what happens now?”

You smiled, your cheeks rosy from more than just the cold. “I guess we see where this goes. Together.”

Luke reached out, taking your hand in his. “I like the sound of that.”

As the two of you stood there, hand in hand under the twinkling stars, the night felt magical—like the start of something truly special.

#✎ natalie writes #Luke hughes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n

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1920sladydectective · 1 month ago

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Best Friend's Mother Ch.3 6.8K

This is part three of the story inspired by @shinyshayminflower

It was gonna be the final part, but it's looking like there's at least another chapter or two to come

Angsty, Sad, just loads of stuff. Tiny bit of Smut MDNI 18+

Link to the whole fic on AO3 here lovelies, or you can scroll down my acc to find it here

Thank you @uselessbard1031 for being the best story sounding board

HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOO

The cold light of day revealed more than you could stomach.

You hated yourself, hated her, hated everything you had ever stood for and accepted and wanted in that stupid house.

Mel’s film came back a few days after you’d settled back into your flat, the Kodak Gold showing the pathetic rose tinted glasses that covered you for July and August. It was picturesque, toes in sand and melting Mr Whippys. Smooshed faces and a pissed off Mina. She showed them off, with a happy voice and gesticulating hands. It felt sort of like she was trying to cheer you up.

You’d been in a ‘funk’ since you got back and it was being chalked up to your immediately heavy workload.

That was it. Too much reading, four new essays and some new bullshit about work experience. Not the crushing void in your heart, not the breakup that was barely there, that existed for you and you alone.

Ambessa Medarda was a black hole, alluring in her violence, beautiful in her consumption and you were mere space dust. That she had made abundantly clear.

It kept you up at night, embarrassment curdled in you like milk. Body in tatters trying to keep your mind in check.

I’ll ring you when I’m back

Whyever would you need to do that

You fucking idiot.

Her stupid, soft pyjamas kept her grip on you, your phone’s fancy screen shining like her eyes. She was everywhere and you couldn’t tell anyone.

You were the living dead, cursed to be unloved and used forever. You never thought of yourself as dramatic before, preferring humour and dismissiveness, but the gaping wound in you cried for attention. Cried to be acknowledged and picked at, a scar in the making, as each little flicker of healing was ripped off again and again.

Six weeks later you still felt like a lovesick puppy. University and your job made time sparse and relaxation sparser still, but somehow the sadness lingered. You’d been grieving it for nearly as long as it had happened, some weird crossroads where it felt inappropriate to be sad. It was a summer fling, how many had existed since the dawn of time and yet it dug into you like an elusive splinter.

Mel was another issue entirely. Warm and tender, trying to prop you up when you stopped eating or didn’t keep up with the laundry. Part of you wanted to scream and cry. I’m not who you think I am, your mind shouted, I’m awful and you should hate me like I hate myself.

Then you’d eat a sausage roll, she’d send you a shitpost and you’d cry in the shower. Selfish as it was, you couldn’t lose both Medardas.

Sometimes you thought you saw her name pop up on your phone, you’d look each time like a baby falling for a game of peekaboo. Nothing. The last message made your lungs tense every single time.

Bacon Crunchy or No?

Crunchy, but still soft.

Demanding x

That breakfast in bed was the most revisited memory, probably spurred on by how many times you’d read those texts. You wouldn’t eat bacon anymore, flicked it out of your meal deal BLT before realising how counterproductive you’d made your sandwich. Wet mayonnaise and lettuce with half a tomato slice. What a sad life. Your cheeks were damp again and it was hard to breathe.

At some point enough was enough. You were a twenty three year old mooning over a woman over twenty five years your senior. You had a life, you had friends and a dad who called you sometimes. She was not the sun, you did not revolve around her.

That lasted for about a week, until Mel mentioned going back briefly for her Mum’s birthday. November 9th. You hadn’t known that, wished you still didn’t. Somehow you were in a shopping centre helping her search for a gift. Budget was extensive and so was Mel’s ability to shop.

What would be a good gift for Ambessa? Rat poison perhaps?

You saw it or maybe it saw you. Gold, each chain link tiny, making it look almost like falling sunlight. One large crimson ruby hung at the end, metal criss crossing over it in a pretty setting. It would fit almost every outfit she wore. It matched her favourite earrings. It was unique, like her and she didn’t deserve it.

“That seems perfect,” Your voice croaked, pointing towards the glass cabinet.

Mel agreed because well, it just was. You lived, slowly and painfully, Rowan Atkinson’s scene from Love Actually. This was your punishment, your karma for your indecisiveness and deceit. Leaving Selfridges (dissociated and bankrupt from a bagel) you allowed yourself to be talked at. That seemed to be happening a lot these days, more sounding board and less person. That seemed to be what you’d lost, your personness, stuck in silk sheets in Surrey. There was no recon mission to be had either, the invitation for birthday celebrations blissfully, brutally not extended to you.

You heard all about it though, obviously. You weren’t that lucky. Mel and Kino had organised a party, she had pretended to be ever so surprised and you had received fourteen drunk videos at three am. The house was different to how you’d ever seen it, twinkling lights and darker furnishings to herald the stormy winter approaching. Kino was doing the CanCan, offscreen choked laughter making your heart hurt. Each video devolved to make less sense, snapshots of the living room, pretty decoration and discarded champagne. The last one made your world spin, bile eating your throat.

It was Ambessa, glassy eyed with shimmering makeup and bouncy curls, grinning at the camera with a cupcake in hand. Sitting pretty, as perfect as you’d imagined, was the necklace.

“How’s your party been, Mum?” Mel’s hiccupped voice.

“Perfect, Darling,” Ambessa muttered, an easy smile growing.

“And your gift?”

“Also perfect, Little wolf,” Her fingers stroked it instinctively, feeling along the ruby.

“Say thank you to the camera then,” Mel says, impatient and swaying slightly, “She’s the one who helped me find it,”

The shift was slight, you only noticed because you were looking, her face draining of some joy.

Tone coy and light she stared directly at the screen, “Ah I see, when you said one of your friends, I didn’t realise you meant her! Who knew she knew me so well?” a criminally long pause, “Thank you, Sweet Girl,”

The footage stopped, her smirk immortalised.

You hated her. Vile, vindictive little bitch. You burned all but one of your pyjamas sets in the garden, mesmerised by the flames as if their heat could cleanse you. Charred linen smelt like shit and you dumped it in the bin before it became a problem for the neighbours. Lip chewed raw, you curled onto the dining chair you had occupied half an hour ago, looking down at your traitorous phone

Your text response was calmer after that.

Nice, cute party! Drink some water babe xox

I kissed Jayce

Oh?

And Viktor

Can you call?

It’s 4am Mel.

Yes

The shrill thrum of Facetime rang throughout your kitchen, ear twitching slightly as you answered.

“Thank fuck,” Mel sounded both stressed and excited, “This party has been so weird I wish you were here,”

You didn’t. “Weird cause you tongued your two closest friends? Or weird some other way?”

“Don’t say tongued it’s vile,” She was clearly stumbling down the corridor to her bedroom, “And both, I guess? It’s a long story”

“Babble away then, babe,” You’d missed this, missed her.

It actually wasn’t that long at all, content wise, Mel was just so drunk she restarted five thousand times. Jayce and Viktor were together, this you knew. Mel would sometimes kiss them both, occasionally more, and she didn’t know what to feel; this was new. Having a conversation about emotional intimacy versus physical with her when she was drunk and your last fuck had been her mother was like a stupid game of Monoply. It took forever, not much was accomplished and she ended up falling asleep just as you were getting to the good bit.

“Mum’s also been weird,” It was slurred, hair spraying on the pillow, “Nostalgic or something,”

“Nostalgic?” You didn’t want to talk about her, you didn’t.

“I dunno, think she missed me and Kino,” She coughed, “She’s been more quiet,”

Quiet. Of course. She didn’t seem quiet when she threw your pet name in your face, but hey what did you know? Follow up questions were useless, Mel’s snores crackling through the phone.

“Are you sleeping, Little wolf?”

You were going to throw up, twitching hands launching your phone across the table. Mel’s phone echoed the crashing, drawing Ambessa’s attention. Picking the phone from her daughter’s fingers, she raised a quizzical and then uncertain brow.

“Night Mel,” You whispered, slamming the end call button. The last noise from her end was that voice calling out your name.

You didn’t sleep, your only remaining pair of pyjamas mocking you from the laundry basket.

It washed over you like the tides, again and again, each time inching closer to consuming you. So much energy had been expended to move past this, but you crumbled like a stale biscuit in the face of her teasing, of your name from her mouth. Even now your heart skipped, ached, sang. It wasn’t real, the adoration and attraction she had looked at you with. How could you grapple with that? Alone and surrounded by all the kindness she had gifted you. There was a doubt, tart and strong, in your mind that you would ever matter to anyone ever again. Your clanking alarm clock seemed to agree, burrowing into your fitful dreams and warping to the sound of her laugh.

Mel came back, hungover and a little emotionally unstable which seemed to happen every time she went home. You had tacos on the sofa, sharing a beer and having the same conversation as before, though sober this time. You steered clear of her, focusing on Mel with an intensity that made the girl snort.

“Back to planet earth then?”

“What?” Lettuce tumbled out, they’d given you a hard shell by accident.

“I mean this is probably the most you’ve spoken to me since the summer,”

A flinch, body rejecting the truth, as your lips turned down.

“I get it, work and stuff,” Mel quickly added, stroking your arm like she would Mina, “Just missed you,”

“Missed you too,” It choked out, despite your efforts to stay calm, flinging yourself against her and squeezing.

Fuck Ambessa. It settled in you, a certainty fuelled by the intense turmoil of the past twenty four hours. You loved Mel and you would not be a shit friend anymore.

Days were lighter after that, your acceptance shifting the colours of your world slightly. Your fancy laptop was a blessing, not a collar, helping you write your thesis without trouble. The coffee shop could have been worse, it was in a beautiful building with a rich history and it meant you could eat branded beans instead of 26p sludge. You’d even managed to save some money for Christmas. You were rising from the ashes of unrequited love, becoming a true optimist. Maybe you might start liking yourself soon.

Then your dad called.

“Hey, Peanut,” His gravelly tone was easily decipherable. He was about to disappoint you, again.

“Hi Dad,” You settled in the armchair, chest deflating, “Everything okay?”

“I’ve got some news,” a rattled sigh, “I’m gonna need to stay on till January,”

Rough hands ran over your face, “Of course,”

“I’m sorry kid but with the mortgage and-”

“I know, I understand,”

“Maybe you could go back to that friend’s house?” He said hopefully, “You had such a good time,”

Not fucking likely. If you told Mel that’s exactly what she’d suggest, so this one was staying quiet, you weren’t that healed. “It’s alright, I think I’d like to be at home, see some familiar faces, could always have dinner with the cousins,”

“Yeah,” He sniffed, “Yeah okay love,”

“I love you, I guess I’ll see you in the new year?”

“Of course, and I’ll ring you in the holidays,” He was firm in his intentions, even if it wouldn’t stick, “Love you,”

Christmas alone. Lucky you.

It took more effort than you’d anticipated to censor the news around Mel. Part of you, small and desperate, wanted to fall into her and cry about it but then you would end up sniffling, sitting in her car on the way to that damned house. The last few weeks of term flew by, deadlines and Christmas parties numbing you out, pushing you into a glitzy, overwhelmed state. Mel was in her element, glittering gold as she wrapped a mountain of gifts, covered all of your kitchen surfaces in icing sugar and screamed George Michael. She was supposed to leave before you, giving you three days of peace in the house before you ended up in rural Derbyshire with nobody but the deer to talk to.

About an hour before Mel was due to leave you received a phone call from your father and it affirmed for you that the universe, in all its cosmic wonders, had it out for you.

Your terraced house had a very complex and old heating system, which had apparently died a sudden and dramatic death. Sure, whatever, no problem. Except a new one was going to cost at least ten thousand pounds and couldn’t be installed until January anyway. The neighbours had told him about the sudden flooding, and he had tried to deal with it faster, but being so far away and with so little immediate funds.

“So it’s fucked,” You groan, “I guess I’ll have to stay here then,”

“I-” Your dad sounded shattered, “We might have to looking at selling, I haven’t got the cash to fix it,”

“I’ll figure that out Dad,” Tight throat, air raspy, “It’s okay, thanks for calling,”

“What’s fucked?” Mel said, appearing like a ghost, your shoulders jolting.

“Eavesdropper,” It was a grumble, “It’s nothing,”

“It’s clearly not if you’re looking at staying here,”

Your eyes rolled, frustration bubbling,“House’s heating broke, can’t be fixed till January so I’ll stay here,”

Mel looked crestfallen, “Oh no,” She embraced you, the hug more loving than you deserved, “What’s your dad going to do? Come up here? He can have my room obviously,”

“Why would he need that?” You snorted, “He’s staying on the rig for Christmas-” Uh. Oops.

Brown eyes flared with anger, “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

“I-I” You were at a loss, desperate to avoid what was obviously hurtling your way, “I didn’t wanna be a downer on all the cool plans, I was just gonna relax alone or whatever,” Lame excuse, loser.

“You’re coming to ours,” Mel said, decided, waving away all of your protests like one would swat a fly. Somehow she was already calling her mother, telling her to expect another guest for Christmas. The stress of heating was the final straw on a decrepit, twitching camel.

Had you died? Were you in Hell?

That’s what the Land Rover felt like, speeding through endless countryside as she sang Christmas Wrapping for the ninth time. You felt almost outside your body, about to reunite with a part of yourself you’d allowed to die. Mel had chewed you out for the first hour of the journey about being an idiot, about upsetting her by not just asking to stay. I know it was awesome in the summer, she had whined, you’re not like a burden or anything.

Rolling up the driveway felt like that moment on a rollercoaster just before the adrenaline floods you. Your stomach turns, you feel the wind and feel how high up you are, seeking an out you know isn’t there. Then the ride drops, hurtles down the track and you’re too overwhelmed to think much of anything at all. Ambessa standing, cashmere jumper and longer curls, against the door waiting to greet you both was your drop. Blank, hot nothingness.

“Darlings,” She cried, lips as crimson as ever.

She stepped forward, throwing her arms around both of you and you thought you might die. You hated her. Her smirk showed she could tell, though it wasn’t as firmly fixed as usual. Sunrays, squinting eyes and that smirk as she ate a slice of watermelon. Shut Up.

A small dinner was already ready, a weathered looking Kino dishing up portions. His greeting was warm but distracted.

“Mum’s had me hauling all the trees into place,” He grumbled, passing you a bowl of stew, “because of course it couldn’t wait until the precious princesses arrived to help,”

Gods you’d missed him. “You think I’m a princess Kino? I’m touched,”

Mel forced you into your chair, snorting at her brother, “Would you believe this idiot was going to stay at uni all by herself?”

You didn’t feel like an idiot, you felt like a prey animal fleeing one predator to sprint into the den of another.

Ambessa interjected then, “Yes, what’s this I hear about broken heating?”

It was an innocent and very valid question from the woman hosting you. She needed to shut the fuck up. “Uh, our terraced house was still using its system from the 60s and it finally died,” You said, instead of telling her the former, “Dad’s on the rig and can’t get anyone to fix it sooner than January,”

“We’ll have you for the whole festive period then,” Ambessa said, tone calm as she sent you a smile. It was indifferent and kind, in the same way she had been those first days of the summer. It rocked you, eating some of the adrenaline and replacing it with tears that glazed embarrassingly for a second. Long enough for her to see, but with enough control to spare you from Mel.

Five weeks of being in Medarda Central, playing happy families, “If that’s okay,”.

“We’re so happy to have you, Dear,”

Bitch. “Thank you, Ambessa,”

That evening was like a dream, stuck behind the screens of a nightmare. Three large christmas trees to decorate, a tradition apparently, with mulled wine and gingerbread. Everything was beautiful, and to your surprise each ‘child’ was given a tree. The larger one in the foyer was put up on November 21st every year by Ambessa, Mel told you, but the Medarda siblings and Mina each got their own tree to decorate once everyone was home.

You had been given Mina’s with a snort from Ambessa, who was supposedly happy to have someone else take on the ‘lazy demon’s workload’. It felt nice, for a moment, as you stared down at the fluff ball who seemed to have accepted you as a guest. This was a new thing and if you closed your eyes and breathed out of your armpit no memories appeared. You decorated methodically, using some of Mina’s and some spare that had been assembled for you. A perfect evening, with your best friend and her stupid big brother. And their sexy, evil, confusing mother.

Like you thought, a dream to nightmare pipeline. A trend you saw continuing for the rest of the holiday. It ended with watching The Grinch, something you had never seen. Jim Carrey was unusual and Martha May was disturbingly attractive, but that’s all you really gained, too busy ignoring Ambessa’s joking gaze. Did she think you were crazy? That you wanted to spend this holiday being fucked about by her too? Mel’s head on your shoulder grounded you, saved you from the turbulence of her.

It caught you once, entirely by accident, and your head began to swim. Golden swirls, tender and amused. She looked more beautiful somehow, finally victorious in getting your attention as she raised a brow. Your neck mottled red as anxious teeth crushed against one another. Rough hands stroking your cheek, kissing your sleepy eyelids as you ignored the film that followed Trading Places. This place was haunted and you realised that you were just another ghost. Kino went to bed first and unlike a few months ago, you were determined not to be a straggler. You got your water and tea whilst Mel spoke to her Mum about the upcoming Carol Concert you were supposed to be attending.

“Night,” You said, voice soft, as she nodded to them.

“Oh,” Mel said, “Bit early for you, isn’t it?”

“Long day,” A smile, “See you in the morning,”

“Nice to have you back, well done with the Tree today,” Ambessa’s silky tone drifted, “Sleep well Sweetheart,”

That was a new one and it caused no reaction at all. Your hand was trembling because the tea was hot, that was all. Your body shook from the exhaustion in the spare room, lip wet and trembling, because the journey was long and you missed your Dad. You could not feel her phantom touches brushing the tears away, it was simply the wind.

Ten days of Christmas festivities passed and it did not get any easier. No matter when you woke, she still somehow had your tea ready for you. You’d hoped initially that it was Rictus, the man you had come to know slightly better than in the warmer months, but alas he hadn’t a clue what you were on about. Those eyes, hypnotic and cruel, still attempted to lure you in each day. Hands lingered, bodies closer than needed as you passed in corridors or sat on the same sofa.

One day you boiled over, alone in the kitchen with her as she sorted through recipes.

“Will you knock it off?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hum at me,” You snapped, hands clenching your mug, horror clenching your heart, “T-The touching and the looks, stop it,”

Ambessa laughed, pushing her glasses onto her head as she fixed you with a look, “Didn’t seem to mind it a couple of months ago, Sweet Girl,”

“A couple of months ago I was a fool,” A stuttered breath, half stuck and bubbling, “Mel’s my priority, I love her and this fucked up thing would hurt her, so stop it,”

Ambessa’s look changed into something you couldn’t understand, eyes pensive and face blank. She nodded once, head tilted to scan you. Was it respect? Surely not, she barely saw you as a full person.

“Okay,” Her tone was measured, “I can work with that,”

It relieved you, the thick, invisible smog circling overhead finally beginning to clear. You didn't trust her intentions towards you, but you could trust them towards Mel. The tremors and the cries slowed slightly, your sleep troubled but not totally absent.

Something new formed, something you could just about stomach. It was just as if she was your best friend’s mum, hosting you for the holidays, with jokes and motherly pats. She had never known the taste of your lips, you had never nestled your head between her thighs, never shared an overly fond look over her daughter’s head. It was easier this way, you promised yourself in the dead of night as you tossed from side to side. You’d spent so little time actually in this bed, that now it seemed as foreign to you as the woman who occupied the other. Her eyes still stayed on you from time to time, but it was insignificant now.

Did you prefer that? Was this better?

All Ambessa knew was that she did not like this change. Not one bit. She was unsure of how to process you coming back. You were a nice enough girl, an excellent fuck and actually funny to be around. You made Mel happy, which made her happy, but you had gotten a little too attached. She had avoided you since then for that reason, the thoughts of you that drifted through easy to push away. That being said, she missed you sprawled in her bed babbling nonsense as she ruined you. You were a pest, lingering around her thoughts and she was unsure of how to proceed. She seemed to regain one part of you, sarcastic and passionate, at the expense of any and all private access to you. It irked her, though she would not admit it, that you had called it before she had. Guilt sat heavy in her stomach, mixing with something else as she remembered your aggressive devotion to her daughter. Parts of you, buried, now resurfaced for her. How you took your tea, which hand would brush back hair behind your ear, in which order you would put your socks and shoes on. Tiny, minute details. She glanced at you, licking up cream on a hot chocolate and saw images of a similar kind, your pretty crinkled eyes eating an ice cream as you gazed at her across the sunlounger.

Ambessa Medarda could not wait for you to get the hell out of her house.

How ironic, considering you finally felt you were flowing into the new rhythm.

She wasn’t scary, she had no power. Other than the fact that this was, you know, her house. You shared tea, read together, joked and laughed. You only looked at her lips every now and again, a natural thing. You looked at Mel’s lips sometimes. Yeah. Her nicknames only caused nausea, not an actual gag to choke you. Plus you were distracted half the time by Kino and Mel. Frockiling about in London, seeing a show or wandering through museums, it was endless. Somehow you had done more in the first two weeks here than most of the summer, mind frazzled by Christmas joy. The best part was that on December 17th it started to snow and showed no signs of stopping. A true winter wonderland.

The only other distinct change from the summer was the shiny new vibrator in your bedside drawer. You still had needs, for god sake and the distraction should help. Nothing would satiate the burn like she did, but you tried not to think about that once you realised it was her you pictured to send yourself over the edge. Oops.

Ambessa, restless and frustrated, strolled down the corridor in the dead of night. Each door zipped past until a grunt startled her into stillness. It was from behind your door and a flare of worry resounded in her at the pained sound. Against her better judgement, her fist rose to knock on the wood when she heard it again. Clearer now, louder. Not pain, her mind roared, it was a cry of pleasure. Pleased little pants and gasps travelled to her ears, turning her thoughts to molten nothingness. She had uncharacteristically avoided sex for the past few weeks, and this was enough for her to tumble over the edge. Leaning against the wall, breath silent, she gulped. This was ridiculous, wrong and crazy and reckless. She was in the hallway for christ’s sake. Still, with chaotic urgency, her hand slipped beneath her trousers as she caressed her neglected clit.

You lay, legs wide and twitching, pleasuring yourself in bed totally unaware of your desperate audience. Tonight had been tougher on your resilience, her dress was so simple and yet it hugged her in a way that made you think of flowing water. Water led you to thinking of the pool and suddenly you were smacked with images of her naked swimming. It was too good to ignore, already halfway down the hot spiral your body craved, teeth bruising plump lips. Head thrown back, you began to keen and mewl, the toy pushing you into mindlessness, each gentle buzz pulling a whine.

Ambessa was almost nonsensical, unable to battle for her ironclad control as your noises had her frantically chasing release. You had haunted her for days, flushed cheeks and snide comments, as if nothing had ever happened. You essentially ignored any heat from her and it was maddening. She wanted to fuck you into the mattress you lay on now, the image making her eyes roll slightly. The final straw, shooting her into a shaking climax, was a sudden, bursting whimper of her name from your lips.

You hadn’t meant to, rocking yourself against this thick rabbit, but the image of her was so clear and you wanted it so bad, craved it. You cried out for her, as you had so many times before. Everything sang, bright and harsh, as you went limp.

She was much the same, choking her gasps back as her knees shook slightly. Finally some relief, her thoughts able to order themselves slightly. She did not, however, like the form they took. You, temptress and forbidden fruit, carved a home in her head she could not fill with anything else.

This was a mess. She was a mess. You were a problem.

Ambessa found herself bundling up, rambling at Rictus about almost everything as she prepared to check the lake, to see if it was ready for skating. He took it well, he was trusted for a reason. There was a merry glint in those eyes, a knowing of his Mistress. Something was wrong, was grating on her and he believed that something had a name and sparkly, open eyes.

“Need anything else?” Rictus asked, passing her the mug of coffee so she could finish it, “I’ll sort out whatever part of your wardrobe Mina has mutilated and then start wrapping the kids gifts,”

“Fantastic,” Distracted, dismissive, till her shoulders tensed, “Did you get anything for her?”

He remained neutral, “Did you want me to?”

A pregnant pause, stormy eyes, “I-Uh yes, I’ll send you a list,”

As if her house had become a prison, she smacked into you just as she wandered outside. You stood, fluffy coat and thick scarf, staring mystified at the white landscape.

“I’m sorry,” It was a squeak, mind haunted by your enjoyment last night.

“No, no,” She said, “That was my fault,”

“What,” A swallow, as you met her eyes with passiveness, “Where are you off to?”

“The lake,” She grunted, “See if it’s ready,”

“Ready?”

“For skating,”

Your mind exploded with excitement, never having even considered this as a possibility, lips betraying you, “Oh my god really, can I come?”

Your childlike wonder clawed at her lungs, posture softening, smile tugged forward unbidden, “If you’re careful, and do as I say,”

That was how you’d ended up watching Ambessa Medarda check this huge lake with military precision. You hadn’t visited it much in the summer, it was a fifteen minute walk through the woods so in the heat the pool was the obvious preference. Now though? It was a magical, entrancing grove that you giddy with joy. It was almost like it didn’t matter that it was her, that this was the longest you’d spent alone since August.

“Well,” Ambessa called, “Looks perfect to me,”

To your surprise, she removed two pairs of skates from her bag and chucked one at you, leaning against a large Yew tree to put her own on.

You didn’t know she knew to bring a second pair and it flared suspicion in you, “Why do you have these?”

“They’re Mel’s, Sweetheart,” She answered, amusement tickling her cheeks, “Didn’t realise they were still in there, you’re the same shoe size,”

Oh. Okay. That still didn’t solve the issue that you had no idea how to skate, and you said as much.

Ambessa could feel, as intimately as the danger of an oncoming bullet, that this would not end well. The offer left her lips all the same. She could teach you, it was Christmas tradition and Mel would end up dragging you here the second she found out it was ready.

She was a good teacher, patient and calm, with a habit of everexcessive praise and degradation intermingling. You were being a twat when gaining momentum, but did turning very well Darling. It felt unreal, distant from the dull ache she had placed in your heart, as acceptance slotted further into your bones.

Soaring like an injured bird, she watched you. Round and round you moved, grace slow to arrive but firm in staying, as her eyes stung. She couldn’t understand why, breath quick, as she coughed into gloved hands. The pressure built the more you moved and Ambessa nibbled her lip in contemplation.

“Oh my god, it’s ready,” Kino’s loud shriek saved his mother from further emotional introspection, “MEL. MEL. Come Skate,”

The Medarda siblings joined you, both skilled and dangerously competitive, forcing Ambessa to tug you left and right across the ice to avoid their thundering.

In short, it was the best day yet and that night you could sleep without a cry or an orgasm to force you. Christmas might actually be salvageable.

Another party. You’d joked to Mel that she really was the perfect upper class stereotype with a pool and horses you had avoided out of immense fear, with all her time spent getting drunk and talking about all the things she’d done. Mel was a bit offended, which made your assessment all the funnier, gold lips pouting. This one was very intimate, you’d know everyone there and it was more just a chance to see everyone before Christmas Day.It was just the Medardas and you on the big day, their first year having another person due to Ambessa’s usual strictness that it was only family. That was like a lobster slap to the face, making you feel special and like a burden all at once.

Somehow you were crucial in planning yet again, Mel too busy seeing old friends before they went away and Kino refusing to engage. He’d done his bit for the year with Ambessa’s birthday, he stubbornly replied, hiding himself away in the library with Mina.

That was how you found yourself in the kitchen, at the breakfast table expending half your energy to a Chess Game with Rictus and the other to being a food tester.

“Don’t like cranberry sauce,” You grimaced at her offering, Rook takes Knight “That one’s for him,”

“I don’t either,” Bishop takes Rook, his gruff smile making you laugh in kind.

“What’s the point of you then?” Ambessa snapped, eating the canape herself.

“Idle decoration?” “Part of the furniture?” You responded the same time as Rictus, giggles hidden by an insincere hand.

The three of you powered through the Everest of washing up she had created, humming to the radio and thinking up the worst Christmas cracker jokes we’d heard over the years. You were on drying duty initially, till it proved you hadn’t got a clue where anything lived.

“Didn’t you live here for three months?” He mocked, reordering the baking trays.

“She didn’t cook once in that time,” Ambessa sighed, “Some people just take and take and take,”

It was a joke, but it made you angry and the plate hit the water with more force than you could control. Soapy, lukewarm water crashed against both you and Ambessa, leaving you incredulous and her as still as a statue.

“Well,” Rictus said, warm presence cutting through the tension, “Off you both go to change, it’s enough for me to finish alone anyway,”

You both rushed down the corridor, and you felt yourself lurch as something reminiscent of the echo of an apology left her lips. You waved it away, eyes stinging as you slammed the door and curled under the duvet.

Everything was fine. Everything was good. You were friends now and you didn’t love her at all and you weren’t fuelled most by her laugh, her approval, her existence. You fell asleep with a wet stomach, melancholic music echoing in your head as you ended up back on that dreamlike lake.

The day arrived, December 22nd and you felt weird nauseous butterflies. Things had backtracked a bit since the washing up, but you were determined to drag yourself forward.

Everything shone, the powerhouse of a small country fuelling the lights and decorations as Mel sat crisscrossed on her bed, painting you like one of her canvases.

“This feels like a lot,” You said, yawning, “Everyone coming already knows what I look like,”

She smacked your arm lightly, “It’s Christmas, live a little,”

“I’m already living a lot thank you, you’ve got me in heels and spanx,” You flicked the snap to emphasise your point, moving your lips to hinder her lipstick application.

“Brat,” She gripped your chin, keeping you steady as her face lit up, “There you look like an angel now,”

You did, Your hair was shiny and curled, your face a painted marvel of Mel’s imagination and one of her white and gold dresses clung to you, highlighting everything you had ever been blessed with. Your eyes burned. A click smashed through your thoughts, the film camera flash capturing you forever, awestruck at yourself and grateful for your best friend.

Joy came easy here, her presence diluted by people you had come to love, as you slipped through the small crowd, challenging Viktor to a sober chess rematch. You didn’t win, but neither did he, and with a stalemate reached you gobbled up Ambessa’s admittedly perfect food parcels. Rictus seemed to circle back to you more often than anyone else, smirk on his face, a silent comradery.

The record player was soothing, champagne and eggnog mixing to make an odd sensation in your stomach as Kino twirled you around.

“I’m glad Mel has you,” He mutters against your ear, “She’s needed a friend to ground her,”

Everything spun weirdly, the compliment ironic as you nodded roughly, “I love her, she’s the best, and hey, you’re not too bad either,”

He laughed, twirling you a final time, “Always the charmer, Princess,”

Chaos devolved, as it always did with this group of friends, the snow too tempting a siren. You’d actually been having a coherent conversation with Ambessa and Cassandra Kiramman about your thesis progress, eyes only slightly hazy with booze, when you were hauled away by Jayce and VI. A snowball fight on the patio had erupted, bodies numb to the cold as their skin was heated by alcohol, violent throws and crashing dodges. No true adult participated, though some watched fondly, as Rictus recorded the whole thing on an old camcorder, another Medarda tradition apparently.

Ambessa trailed the scene, heart warm at the sight. She loved her children, loved the people they had become even if sometimes they seemed alien to her, more gentle and considerate than she considered possible. Their friends were a great reflection of them, loud and eclectic, with the loyalty of a wolf pack. You flitted about like a golden mote of light, drawing her eye more than she wished. That dress was sinful, you filled it in a way that made her ache, makeup turning your eyes into deep pools in wish she lost her senses. She knew nothing about your thesis, though Cassandra seemed to have continued that conversation with her as you were dragged away. This was becoming impractical, her body not her own. She retreated to the kitchen under the pretense of refills.

You bowed out early, freezing your tits off was fun until it wasn’t and you were less agile than the others. Beelinging for the kitchen, desperate for tea and to choke down more canapes, your cold skin smashed against a warm, firm wall.

She was beautiful tonight, as always. Resplendent and controlling, wielding her space perfectly. Braids and curls intermingled to frame her angular face, statement birthday necklace in place with matching earrings, as long lashes fluttered. It was the most stuck you’d felt since coming back to the house, an aura so similar to that first barbeque, that you’d almost slipped and made an inappropriate joke.

Your damp, snow soaked curls stuck your face as you stood inches from her, the kitchen silent save for your mingled breath.

“Good party,” You crooked, frozen in face.

“Yes,” She responded in kind, “A success I think,”

“I-I just wanted another salmon tart thing,”

She placed one in your hand, eyes widening, as she gripped your bare shoulder “You’re freezing, Sweet girl,”

Sweet Girl the tipsy, happy haze called. You nodded, “Was in the snow,”

She could warm you up, her sly and corrupted mind cried, thoughts blank as your innocent, devil eyes captured her body and perhaps even soul. She moved thoughtlessly, a gentle ringed hand tilting your chin as her dark lips crushed against yours.

Euphoria. You were in heaven, succumbing hungrily to the kiss, lungs starved of oxygen for four months. No logic here, no reason or doubt. Only her firm guiding embrace, and warm tongue. Ambessa Medarda was an evil, perfect woman and you could not escape her.

Dizzy, drunk in more ways than one, you pushed her off gently. It took everything in you, salmon tart crushed to nothing on the ground as you gulped.

Her inability to treat you a person was not why you’d stopped this, though if you respected yourself it should have been, it was because of Mel.

“This isnt-”

“Oh my fucking god,” It was shrill, whispered and bitter, your heart dropping out of your ass, ”No, you haven’t done this to me Mum, not again,”

Speak of the devil.

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #arcane #ambessa smut #arcane ambessa #reader insert

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