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minniesmutt · 10 months ago

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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: LEE KNOW X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: SET IN 2010S, COLLEGE AU, POPULAR!LINO, PHOTOGRAPHER!READER, SWITCH!LEE KNOW, SWITCH!READER, NO AGE IS GIVEN BUT THEY ARE WRITTEN TO BE IN THEIR JUNIOR AND SENIOR YEAR, ALCOHOL, OVERTHINKING, ANXIETY, HINTED INSECURITIES BUT NOTHING IS DESCRIBED, FOOD, ASS GRABBING, PET NAMES, BITING, ORAL (F. REC), MUTUAL MASTURBATION, BOOB PLAY, MARKING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CUMSHOT, PHOTOS, PROTECTED SEX, SLIGHT OVER STIM, ALLUDES TO AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 8.4K ☾ ━━━ COMMISSIONED WORK! ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Accepted. One of the best things Y/n had read in a long time. Getting accepted into her top choice. She had applied on a whim, not thinking she would get in. When the letter came she was sure she was rejected. Especially since the art program was fairly good at the school and some had told her it was harder to get into. But here she was two years later. Now in her junior year and one of the top students in the program. Even if that meant sacrificing her social life for it.

The extent of Y/n’s interactions with her schoolmates was limited to projects. Pairing up with a couple of people in class and photographing the other majors with their permission. The campus itself was the perfect backdrop for every photo. Even out of class, she was photographing everything, getting people in the background too, just wanting to document the experience to show her family when she visited them.

Adjusting to not living with her family was a weird experience. Her family called and texted her every day for the first few months of her freshman year. Just making sure she was settling in alright. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, keeping to herself. So it was natural for her family to worry about her being on her own. Was it anxiety-inducing at first? Yes. But she’d settled in pretty well after a while.

College parties were never really her thing either. She’d focused on her projects and classes and voluntarily chose to miss other aspects of her college experience. Even with her family telling her it was okay to post once in a while. Parties, dating, making friends, all that she put aside.

But there was always a bug that crawled out of the woodwork and bit. And this one had to be around Halloween. Hyunjin— someone she was acquainted with from their sharing school art program — had invited her to his housemate's Halloween party. Probably since he was inviting everyone else in the class and didn’t want her to feel excluded.

At the time she just offered him a smile and said okay. Not planning on going at the time, maybe just staying in and watching horror movies. Her usual plans always seemed to work but for some reason, she decided to go. Maybe make a few friends too.

Y/n managed to find a costume that wasn’t super skimpy but was still cute enough to pass. She knew no one really took the holiday seriously in their early adult years and didn’t want to stand out too much. She got dressed the night of the party and walked down to the house the party was at. It wasn’t too far from the campus dormitories. Some people were out in front of the house whenever she walked up.

Anxiety about walking into a new place filled her. Especially with how packed it was. All the bodies just made the room even more hot too. She weaved her way through her crowd of drunk college students, not trying to be rude or anything. The bass from the speakers thumped against her skull as she made her way to the kitchen. Maybe a drink would calm her nerves a bit.

She managed to break free from the bodies and get to the alcohol. Red cups thrown about on the counter. She found the clean stack and searched for liquor and mixers. Debating the large variety the house had.

“Looking for something specific?” A voice showed over the music

She tore her gaze away from the alcohol and was met with a fit about her age. She had zero clue who he was in all honesty.

“No, just debating what sounds good right now,” She replied, still having to yell over the music

“I’m Jisung,” the guy introduced himself, holding his hand out to her

“I’m Y/n,” she shook his hand and ordered a small smile. Now she kind of knew one person here.

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

“This is not really my scene,” Y/n laughed as she grabbed a bottle of tequila. “I usually just keep to myself.”

“I feel it. This whole party was honestly my roommate's idea. I can’t escape if I wanted to,” Jisung laughed. “What’s your major?”

“I’m an art major, focusing on photography,” Y/n told him

“That’s cool! I’m a music major.”

It felt nice having someone to talk to here. Y/n began wondering what she was missing out on the last couple of years. She and Jisung talked for a few more moments till Jisung got dragged off and promised to come back in a few minutes. Y/n just nodded and sipped her drink. She stood off to the side, out of other people’s way. Waiting for her new friend to come back. She eventually started wandering through the party. Getting stopped and made some small talk with her classmates, making her way back to the kitchen for another drink when she finished hers. A couple more times throughout the night she talked to Jisung again and met a couple of his friends— Felix and Chan.

She rarely was ever drunk. She had a drink here and there. Had one or two when she went out with family members for dinner or something. Maybe it was the fact it did help ease her anxiety about the whole situation a bit. She felt more outgoing in the moment. Especially when she saw someone she had a small crush on.

Minho was popular— not that he wanted to be. He was very humble about his popularity. He was ninety percent sure it was because of his looks and maybe his skill as a dancer. All night— didn’t matter if he was talking with his friends or not— he’d been having drunk girls try and get at him. He was used to it but their level of intoxicity and their very outgoing way of trying to get him to bed was annoying him. He’d be happy if he could lock himself in his room for the night.

But here he was, talking with Changbin as yet another girl was approaching both of them. He could barely hear her over the music anyway but he mostly tuned out what he could. Telling his friend he was going to get another drink and then walking off. Not giving the drunk girl a chance to follow him.

Minho weaved his way through the crowd. Weaving between bodies since no one knew how to keep a path clear for others. Accidentally pumped a bit too hard into one girl as a guy took a step back into him.

“Sorry,” Minho said to the girl, having wrapped an arm around her so she didn’t fall. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Y/n said, suddenly every bit of her introverted self coming out again.

“You sure?” Minho asked

“Yes. Sorry!” Y/n replied, face feeling hot as his arm fell from her side, “I’m—”

She couldn’t do much to introduce herself when Minho was already walking off. She sighed and sipped her drink. Maybe a couple more drinks and she could try again. Maybe she should just save herself the embarrassment and go home. She could tell he wasn’t in the mood even if she had a few drinks in her system.

“Why the sad face?” Jisung’s voice came from next to her. Scaring her a bit

“Party is starting to be too much,” Y/n replied

“Hang here. I’ll grab you some water,” Jisung told her.

“Thanks…” Y/n said as he went off to the kitchen after grabbing her cup of alcohol from her.

Y/n stood in her spot, waiting for her new friend to come back. Jisung came back after a few minutes and handed her a bottle of water, opening the cap for her and handing it to her.

“Want to get some air too? I know it’s hot in here.”

“Yes please,” Y/n said and sipped the cold water.

Jisung led her out to the front yard and sat with her on a couple of unoccupied chairs. The cold air felt good after being in a stuffy house for so long. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” Y/n smiled

“No problem. I know it can all be too much sometimes,” Jisung replied. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I don’t want to bother you more. I can get home by myself. I live on campus anyways.”

“I’m not letting you walk back to campus this late!” Jisung protested, “Let me find one of my friends and let them know where I’m going.”

Before Y/n could say anything else, Jisung had already disappeared back into the house. She felt bad just getting up and leaving like she had originally planned. Instead, she patiently waited and sipped her water. Staying to get cold in the material of the costume.

Jisung came out of the house a few moments later. He helped her up and the two started walking down the street together. Y/n wrapped her arms around her to provide warmth from the autumn air.

“Are you cold?” Jisung asked

“I’ll be fine. It’s a short walk to the campus dormitory.”

“I should have grabbed a jacket when I went inside.”

“It’s fine. You walking me back is more than enough.”

The walk was mostly silent. The occasional talk about their classes and their day-to-day lives filled the night.

“Wait. You’ve been here for two years and haven’t made a single friend?” Jisung asked

“I didn’t have time to socialize. I honestly wasn’t planning to go to the party anyways…”

“Well, we’re friends now! Now you have one. Though I’m sure Felix considers you a friend. Even if you guys had one conversation tonight, he’ll still count it! And don’t you and Hyunjin in the art program together?”

“Yeah. I don’t really talk to people. I just do my work and if I'm in a group protection I'm still pretty quiet. Though I’m sure I’ve photographed everyone on campus at some point or another.”

“Ooh! You should show me your photos sometime! I want to see your work!” Jisung rambled

It felt nice to have somewhat of a friend now. Jisung made sure to walk her up to her dorm room and they two exchanged numbers as well before he started his walk back home and Y/n went into her dorm. She took a shower and put on her pajamas before crawling into bed.

Y/n carried on her day-to-day life after the Halloween party. Going to class, focusing on her assignments, and taking photos in the quad. Just now Jisung seemed to be popping up randomly.

“What are you taking photos of?” Jisung asked, sneaking up behind her

“Jesus!” Y/n half-yelled

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” He apologized

“It’s fine. Just not used to it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Just taking photos. I like capturing the campus scenery.” Y/n shrugged

“Can I see?”

“Sure…” Y/n hadn’t shown anyone except her teachers her photos before.

Y/n opened her camera’s library and turned the screen to him. Jisung took the camera from her hands and scrolled through the photos.

“I’m not a professional and barely know the first thing about pro photography but these are great!” Jisung complimented

“Thanks,” Y/n smiled, feeling proud of her work at that moment

“Oh! You have some of the dance crew!”

“Yeah. I joined the school paper on a whim this year and they have me photographing sports…”

“That’s why Felix said he recognized you at the party. Oh, there he is!”

Jisung spent the next few moments trying to find all the photos she had taken of his friend in her camera. “You even got good photos of Minho.”

“You know Minho?”

“Yeah. We share a room at the house.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide for a moment as she processed the information. She had somehow befriended one of her crush’s friends, let alone his roommate. Jisung seemed oblivious to her reaction. He handed her camera back to her with a smile. “You should come to my music group’s next performance and take photos of us! I’m sure Chan and Changbin would love it too!”

“Yeah. Just let me know when,” Y/n smiled

“I’ll text you! I’ve got to run to class before I’m late!”

Jisung took off before she could do anything. She just agreed to whatever he said, not fully processing it. She shook her head and looked at the time. She was done with her classes for the day but wasn’t quite ready to go back to her dorm. She sighed and went to the library to study for some of her classes.

She sat quietly at one of the library tables. Textbooks open as she scanned through and wrote down the important information she needed for her class. Her headphones were in as she listened to her music. The background noise helping keep her focused on her work.

Minho was also stuck in the library. Working on some homework. Anything was better than doing said work at home with seven other people to interrupt his peace. The campus library had been his safe space since he started and decided to get a house with his seven friends. Now he was in his last year of college and could get away from all this soon.

He wasn’t getting away from Jisung though. Even in the quiet library, he wasn’t safe from his best friend.

“There you are,” Jisung quietly said and took a seat next to his friend.

“I need a better hiding spot,” Minho sarcastically told his friend

“You’re in a better mood.”

“I’m not getting hounded today.”

“Explains a lot.” Jisung shrugged and took out his homework

The two fell into silence until Jisung became a bit bored and poked his friend. It was soon stopped by a glare and a quick apology. The younger one laid his head on the table and then looked around the library. “Do you know Y/n?” Jisung suddenly asked

“Who?” Minho asked

“She’s in the school paper. She’s photographed the dance team. Figured you might have met her, Felix has.”

“Are you comparing me to Felix?” Minho asked

“No, but I was curious. She doesn’t have many friends. I invited her to the next 3RACHA performance.”

“You’re trying to get her more friends, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been the kid with no friends before so I kind of feel bad.”

“I remember when you were trying to fight everyone in the house for the smallest things.”

“I’m a changed man.”

“Because of Chan.”

Jisung didn’t disagree with him as Minho finished up his homework. Jisung had given up on finishing his and took out his phone. Replying to some text messages he had. Y/n was one of the people he had texted.

Jisung: 3Racha has a performance this weekend! It’s at Miroh!

Y/n looked at the text message on her screen. She figured out what Jisung was attempting to do since the Halloween party and claimed they were friends. She was grateful he was trying to break her out of her shell and she couldn’t exactly come up with an excuse either. She had also processed that he had asked her to photograph them at their performance earlier in the day. And she agreed to it.

Y/n: Where’s that at? :’( Jisung: You haven’t been to Miroh before?? Y/n: No. I don’t have friends and I’m terrified of going places by myself Jisung: How about I pick you up then? You can ride with me and my friends then hang out with them while I’m up on stage Y/n: Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude… Jisung: Yeah! The guys won’t mind. Oh! Since you’re in the library, come over and meet Minho! He’ll be there too so you won’t just have Felix when me, chan and changbin are on stage Y/n: How do you know I’m in the library?? Jisung: I came in to annoy Minho and try and do homework and saw you when I walked in. You had your headphones on so I didn’t say anything Y/n: oh

Y/n had finished her work and was just packing up when she saw the message from Jisung. She finished packing her things up when she looked around for Jisung. Seeing him standing at a table with Minho. After the party and her run-in with the dancer, she wasn’t hopeful it would go well. She could barely even think of just getting up and leaving when the music major spotted her and made his way over to her. His friend following not far behind

“Did you just finish?” Jisung asked her

“Yeah. Did you even work or just talk to people?”

“Bit of both,” Jisung shrugged as the dancer walked up behind him, “This is Minho. Min, this is Y/n.”

“Hi,” Y/n timidly said

“Hey,” Minho greeted back

Minho recognized her from the Halloween party. He had seen her in the dance studio with a camera a couple of times. He just never knew her name.

The trio walked out of the library together and Y/n said goodbye to the two and made her way back to her dorm hall. The two boys went off to head back to their home. Jisung filled in Minho that they were picking up Y/n and giving her a ride to Miroh over the weekend. The older man nodded in agreement.

�� When the day of the performance came Y/n offered to meet Jisung at his house so it was one less stop for the group. At first, Jisung protested on her walking down but she told him she was already on her way down. She was a bit nervous about the whole outing so the walk helped clear her head a bit. By the time she got to the house the group was outside already, Jisung introduced her to everyone she didn’t know yet before the group went back to their previous discussion of the car assignments, and how they were getting nine people there.

“Take three cars, three people in each car,” Chan said which the guys all seemed to agree with

It was decided Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin would drive/be DDs for the group. Seungmin and Changbin rode with Chan. Jeongin and Felix took Hyunjin’s car while Han and Y/n were with Minho. Y/n took the backseat of the car while Minho and Jisung were in the front. The bar was about a twenty-minute drive from the house. Y/n stayed pretty quiet in the back of the car while music played. The two friends in the front talked a little and tried including Y/n. She appreciated it and it helped her nerves a little till they finally got to the bar.

The group managed to find parking spots pretty close together and headed into the bar. The rap group still had some time before they had to perform. A few of the guys took orders and grabbed some drinks from the bar while the others found a couple of tables and pushed them together. Minho had pulled a seat out for Y/n and motioned for her to sit. Hesitantly she sat down with the rest of the group.

The performers themselves talked about their performance as the rest of the group came back with drinks. Making sure everyone got the right drink. Everyone settled in with their drinks and waited for the performance to start.

Y/n felt out of place amongst the friends, even when they did include her in the conversation. Her life just seemed boring compared to the others. They all had some interesting lives or things that were big going on with their majors. 3Racha was about to perform, the dance members— Minho, Felix, and Hyunjin (whom she learned only minored in the art program and was a dance major)— had some competitions for the school and outside of the school coming up. Seungmin— a law major— had won another debate and Jeongin— an education major— was going to be working at a daycare over the summer. Y/n felt like she had nothing going on. Just some photos no one would probably look at.

As soon as the boys were called to the stage, Y/n grabbed her camera from her bag and made sure all her settings were good. “Are you going up to the stage?” Minho asked next to her

“Yeah. If it’s not too crowded,” Y/n said

“Do you want me to go with you?” Minho questioned

“Oh! We should all go up!” Felix suggested

“They can feel our support from back here,” Seungmin interjected

“Then stay here,” Hyunjin said

Jeongin and Seungmin stayed at the tables while she, Felix, Minho, and Hyunjin went up to the stage. Felix and Hyunjin mainly went to be the hype men for their friends while Minho stayed close to Y/n so no one got in the way of the photos. Y/n felt more anxious with Minho standing close by. She had barely talked to him since his demeanor at the Halloween party.

She did her best not to let it get to her as she got her photos. She didn’t know what to expect from the music group. She had heard the name 3Racha before around campus but seeing them perform was a different scenario. She did enjoy the music and got some pretty good shots from the performance. She only saw how good they were when she sat back at the table after the show.

The group congratulated them on the show. Jisung asked to see the photos as soon as she sat down with them. Y/n let him go through them and show them around the table. She felt flustered when everyone gave her props for her work, even though it wasn’t edited yet.

The group stayed for a few more hours at the bar, enjoying the other performances and some drinks. They all ended up calling it a night. Minho and Jisung took Y/n back to the campus dorms before going back to their home

“What do you think of Y/n?” Jisung asked his roommate on the drive back

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Minho answered

“You probably scare her.”

“You know, one day you might not wake up.”

Minho knew she was shy from what Jisung had told him and what he had observed. He knew he could be a little intimidating at times but he felt bad he had given her that impression.

Jisung on the other hand was curious. Pulling his phone from his pocket and texting his new friend.

Jisung: Do you like Minho? Y/n: What?? Jisung: Like as a friend. He thinks you’re scared of him Y/n: oh Yeah? Idk? Jisung: ?? Y/n: He bumped into me at the Halloween party before you got me water. He seemed kind of annoyed when I went to introduce myself so I didn’t think he liked me very much… Which I don’t expect him to. Ik he’s popular and there are more interesting people than me Jisung: oh, he was annoyed the whole party. I promise it wasn’t bc of you. If anything it was all the drunk girls trying to sleep with him Y/n: idk :( I had a few drinks too… maybe he just saw another drunk girl then… Jisung: you were not THAT drunk. You could still walk and form words lol Y/n: I still think he doesn’t like me very much Jisung: and he thinks you don’t like him very much Y/n: I don’t! He just makes me a bit nervous Jisung: oh, you like like min ;) Y/n: so does every girl on campus :( I’m not special

Jisung knew something would come about. If someone didn’t like Minho, he didn’t care much. So Jisung knew his friends' thoughts and feelings the moment he said that Y/n didn’t seem to like him very much. He didn’t that night plotting.

No matter how much plotting he did, he knew his friends were idiots. He’d do everything but lock them in a room together. He told the rest of the house about Y/n’s lack of friends and what he suspected was anxiety about making them but he wasn’t sure.

The group always offered to include her in things and sometimes she did accept the offers. Over time she started to feel like more of a friend to them and less of an intrusion. She still kept quiet about ninety percent of the time though.

She’d given 3Racha the photos she had taken, fully edited, and let them do what they wanted with them. Jisung told her a lot of people on campus loved the photos when they put them on their social media which gave her somewhat of an ego for a few moments.

Minho didn’t know exactly what Jisung was plotting but he did know his friend had been acting differently since the day after their performance. He could corner him and ask but he couldn’t complain too much now.

He’d refuse to admit it to anyone— except maybe Chan — but he was glad Jisung was bringing Y/n around more. He thought she was cute when his younger friend had officially introduced them in the library. He had barely spared her much of a glance at the party. Maybe if he did she wouldn’t be too scared of him. But now, after a few months, that dislike or whatever was disappearing.

He’d catch her around campus and go out of his way to say hi and ask her about her day. Minho appreciated that she didn’t try and flirt with him like the rest of the girls on campus. He could be himself.

Currently, he was in the school's quad with her. He spotted her looking at her camera and chose to keep her company.

“What are you taking photos of?” He asked as he walked up and took a seat next to her on the bench

Y/n offered him a smile, “Whatever interests me today.”

“So the usual?” he joked

“Pretty much.” Y/n agreed

Minho smiled as she got up and stepped a few feet away, spotting something to photograph. Minho took out his phone after a few moments and responded to a few messages he had disregarded earlier. Y/n was taking photos of some of the flowers that were planted. She turned around once she snapped a few and looked at Minho.

He seemed ignorant to her turning around and the sun was hitting all his angles perfectly. She focused her lens on him and snapped a couple of photos. Slowly Minho looked up at her, hearing the camera shutter as she took the photos.

“When did I become your model?” Minho asked as she pulled away from the viewfinder

“You’ve been my model before,” Y/n defended

“I don’t think I’m dancing right now,” Minho told her

“No, but it was a good photo opportunity.”

“Let me see.”

Y/n walked back to him and handed him the camera. Minho took the camera and looked through the photos she had taken of him before getting out of the photos and going back to the camera. He sat up, held up the viewfinder, and snapped a photo before Y/n realized what he was doing. Once she processed it while he snapped a few more, she moved to grab the camera from him.

“Hey!” Y/n said grabbing her camera.

Minho chuckled as she took her seat back next to him. “Let me see my work,” he said between laughs

“No,” Y/n said as she went to look over at the photos. Minho just looked over her shoulder before she could delete the photos.

“I did a good job,” Minho said. “You look good too. Very photographic.”

“Don’t lie,” Y/n grumbled as she deleted the photos and tried to hide her flushed face from him

“I’m not lying,” Minho told her. “You look good. In and out of the photos.”

Y/n hesitated to delete the last photo. Minho did take a good photo of her. She couldn’t deny that.

“What are you doing later?” Minho asked, watching her hesitate, and stopped looking over her shoulder.

“Probably nothing. Maybe homework,” Y/n answered and shut her camera off. Packing it up in her camera bag

“Do you want to get takeout and come over instead? I can kick Ji out.”

Y/n turned to look at him. Ninety-nine percent sure she was hallucinating what he just said. “Huh?” she asked

“Do you want to come over after you’re last class? Order food or I can cook,” Minho repeated

“I— just us?”

“I mean, I’m sure someone else will be at the house but ideally, yeah. Just us.”

“Like, like a date?” Y/n asked, scared but hopeful at the same time

“Yeah.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re out of my league?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Minho smirked, “Come over for dinner. I’ll kick the others out of the house.”

“O-okay,” Y/n agreed

“When’s your last class?”

“I don’t have any more classes. I have all morning classes.”

“Come on. We can go shopping for ingredients.” Minho stood and adjusted the bag on his shoulder

“I don’t want to make you cook,” Y/n closed up her bag and stood with him, gathering the rest of her things.

“I like cooking. Come on,” Minho said

Y/n walked with him to the parking lot. Minho opened the door for her before getting in his side of the car. The two drove down to the supermarket while Minho questioned her on what she wanted to eat.

She was wondering why Lee Minho would ask her out. Or offer to cook for her. Her brain seemed to just go into autopilot for responses. In the store, she stayed close to the dancer. She was trying to stay out of other people’s way and helping with grabbing ingredients. Even if he protested she didn’t need to. It was the least she could do.

When they checked out, Y/n felt more at ease as they drove back to the house. Minho had made sure to text his friends to either not corner them or not come home. They even seemed a bit shocked at this development but ultimately Chan offered to take the other six out for dinner which the younger ones graciously accepted.

“Do you want any help?” Y/n asked after they— mostly Minho— carried in their shopping bags from the car and set them on the counter.

“No. I got it covered,” Minho said and took his bag to his room. Y/n quietly sat at the bar and took out the homework she had planned to do.

Minho came back after a few moments to find her doing the work he took her away from. He smiled to himself as he got to work. Washing his hands and starting to cook. He would occasionally look over at her to check on her and ask her how her work was going.

Y/n was honestly barely focusing on her work— she’d done most of it earlier anyway. She was watching Minho cook. He seemed a natural in the kitchen. Moved with ease, just like he was dancing.

“How come you didn’t go to culinary school?” Y/n asked

�� “Dance is what I’m passionate about. Cooking is just something I like doing for my friends. Plus I’m good at it.”

“How good?” Y/n asked

“You’ll see,” Minho smiled back at her, “Finish your homework. You won’t graduate if you don’t.”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/n told him

“Homework.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes and turned back to her homework while he cooked. Both taking moments to watch the other one work. Y/n finished up her last boy off work and put away her things. Patiently waiting for Minho to finish, not knowing what to do now.

She just admired him working. He moved around the kitchen with ease, even when he plated the food. Y/n smiled as he set the food in front of her and thanked him. Minho smiled and sat down next to her at the bar. Y/n took a bite of the food and looked at him. “You should be a chef!” Y/n exclaimed

Minho just smiled as he started eating. Y/n enjoyed probably the best meal she had had since she left home for college. She felt more relaxed than ever around Minho. She had forgotten for a moment that this was technically a date. It just felt natural to hang out with him now. Even if he didn’t give her the best impression when they had first met. He was trying now even if he didn’t know at first.

Y/n did find it weird— being the best word she could use to describe the feeling— when one of the more popular guys that everyone seemed to like was with her during their free time. They weren’t official but they were together often. Whether it was by themselves or with the rest of their friends. The rest of Minho’s housemates all knew before they did things would be official eventually.

“Did I scare you when we first met?” Minho asked her as they were lying in her dorm bed, her roommate gone for the weekend.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked

“You just seemed scared of me when Ji introduced us,” Minho explained

“You didn’t scare me,” Y/n said, cuddling into him. Winter was setting in now and he had become her personal heater. “Just when you bumped into me at the Halloween party you seemed annoyed when I tried talking to you…”

“That was you?” Minho asked

“Yeah…”

“I was annoyed that night but not because of you,” Minho told her, wrapping his arms around her tighter.

“I don’t blame you. I’m pretty boring…”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m an art major Min. It’s not really a useful career. Sometimes I wonder why you talk to me or even ask me on dates to begin with.”

“Because I like being around you. You’re easy to be around and I like your creativity.”

“You don’t want someone more in your league? Prettier? Cooler?”

“You’re prettier and cooler than you give yourself credit for,” Minho told her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’d be happy to call you my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?!” Y/n’s head shot up and looked at him

“Yeah. I want you to be my girlfriend.” Minho chuckled

Y/n’s face flushed. She had guessed it would eventually get to here but now that the words had left his lips she was at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Y/n nodded her head as Minho laughed. Resting his head on her forehead, “Is that a yes to being my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Y/n quietly said.

Minho smiled and placed a peck on her lips. The kiss was too fast for Y/n. She watched her boyfriend’s reaction to him pulling away then pressed another kiss to her lips. Giving her time to return the affection.

Y/n moved her lips with his before he pulled away again. “You’re a good kisser kitten.”

“Kitten?”

“Yeah. My kitten.”

Minho wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close to his chest. That’s how they stayed for the weekend. Cuddled up together and only pulled away to use the bathroom or get food. Y/n felt like she was on cloud nine with Minho. He walked her to her classes when he had the time and made her any food she asked for. Even when he joked and appeared he didn’t want to. He was always doing things for her. And Y/n never felt happier in the last month of them being together.

“Want to spend the night this weekend ?” Minho asked his girlfriend after walking her to her last class, “Ji’s going to his parent’s house for the weekend so I don’t have to kick him out.”

“The others won’t mind?” Y/n asked

“No. As long as you don’t mind the guys being obnoxiously loud while we’re locked in my room avoiding them,” Minho smiled

“Okay,” Y/n smiled back

“I’ll see you after class,” Minho told her and picked her lips.

Y/n watched her boyfriend walk down the hallway to his class and entered her own. Now, a little too excited for her class to end. She was ready to bolt out of her class as they were dismissed. She tried giving her boyfriend time to get back to her classroom but she still managed to get out before him.

She waited outside her class for him. Leaning against the wall till he snuck up to her and wrapped his kissed her forehead. Y/n looked at her boyfriend, “Hi.”

“Hey. How was class?” He asked as he took her hand. Heading to her dorm so she could grab a few things before heading down to the house.

Minho sat in her desk chair while she packed a small bag, looking at her photos on her wall. A thought crossed his mind as he picked up her smaller digital camera.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked

Minho smiled at her and took a quick photo of her packing her bag. Y/n looked over at him as she heard the shutter click. “Min.”

“I didn’t do it,” Minho told her and took another photo of her.

“I’m never going to win with you, am I?”

“No.”

Y/n shook her head and finished packing her bag. Having to drag her boyfriend from her dorm and to the car. Minho put her things in the backseat and then drove them to his home. Some of the guys were home when they arrived. Y/n said hi to them as Minho pulled her up the stairs to his room. Y/n set her bag down at the foot of his bed as the dancer sat on his bed, pulling her to him and laying back with her.

“Hungry at all?” Minho asked

“No. My boyfriend keeps me nice and full,” Y/n told him as she wrapped her arms around him. Minho smiled and turned on the TV he and Jisung had in their room. Turning on a show the two had talked about watching, casually laying in the bed till Jisung came in to grab something.

“Oh good, you guys aren’t doing anything weird,” Jisung teased as he opened the door

Y/n hid her face in her boyfriend’s chest as Minho glared at his roommate. Y/n focused on the TV as Jisung packed a bag and then said goodbye to the couple, shutting the door behind him.

“Embarrassed kitten?” Minho asked

“A little. What if Ji did walk in while we were doing something? Not that we have done anything but…”

“If we were I would have locked the door. I wouldn’t put you in that position. Have you thought about going further?” Minho explained

“Yeah…”

Minho sat up with her, in a better position to have a more serious conversation. Y/n felt shy about the topic of sex. She didn’t have much experience and she only guessed Minho had more than her. “Look at me, babe?” Minho asked

Y/n hesitantly made eye contact with him for the duration of their conversation. The couple spent maybe an hour talking about their history— she was right about Minho having more experience than her— and protection. Minho made sure Y/n felt completely comfortable as they talked about the next steps in their relationship. Only having gone as far as a few heated make-out sessions. Minho never rushed her with anything which just made her fall for him more.

Maybe that comfort was how the bedroom door ended up locked and Minho was gripping her ass over her jeans while she was sitting on his lap, both their tongues fighting for dominance. Both of them moaned as Y/n gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. Minho used his grip on her backside to pull her closer to him, almost tipping them back on the bed. The dancer chuckled when she made a surprised noise before pulling away and attaching his lips to her neck.

“Min,” Y/n breathed out, fingers dragging up into his hair more.

“Look so good on my lap kitten,” Minho said as his lips roamed all over her neck, biting a couple of patches of skin lightly

Y/n bucked her hips against him when he did nibble on her skin. The slight pinch shot straight to her core. The roll of her hold made the male below her groan and she could feel something poking her from below.

Seconds later Minho had her on her back and kissed down her body. His hands moved to take hold of the low waistband of her jeans. “Can I?” Minho asked

“Please,” Y/n said, lifting her hips for him

Minho smiled and unbuttoned her pants, pulling the fabric down and tossing it to the side. Y/n pressed her thighs together, suddenly a little embarrassed being half-naked in front of him. Minho noticed and placed a kiss on each of her thighs and her hips, gently pulling her legs apart before settling between them. Y/n watched as he put her legs over his shoulders and pressed a few kisses to her clothed core. Y/n bit her bottom lip as she watched her boyfriend kiss and lick her through the fabric before he pulled away and pulled the fabric off her legs, tossing them to the floor with her bottoms.

Minho readjusted them, grabbing her hands and intertwining their fingers. “Anyone ever take care of you, kitten?”

“No…” Y/n admitted as he pressed a kiss to her clit

Minho hummed then licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, wrapping his lips around the bud. Y/n moaned as he sucked on the little bud. She gripped his hands as he switched between sucking on her clit and licking the bud with his tongue. Y/n gasped when she felt his tongue dip into her, back arching off his mattress as he moved the muscle in and out of her.

His hands left her and grabbed the tops of her thighs. Holding her legs over his shoulders as he ate her out. Y/n grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand, making him moan into her. Y/n had to cover her mouth so none of the others would hear her. It got harder to hide them as the knot in her stomach kept tightening and tightening until it snapped.

The photographer gasped as her hips rocked against his face. Minho held her against him as he helped her through the high. Not stopping till he had her cleaned up and her grip on his hair loosened. He pulled away, put her legs back on the bed, and sat up on his knees. Wrong off any excess liquid with the back of his hand.

Y/n caught her breath again as Minho threw off his t-shirt letting it join her bottoms on the ground. Y/n took in the sight up his upper torso, just by his arms she knew her boyfriend was toned but seeing his chest and abs, whew.

“What you staring at kitten?” Minho teased as he crawled over her, caging her in with his arms.

“My hot boyfriend,” Y/n responded as she ran her fingers down his front and hooked them around his belt.

“Not so shy anymore,” Minho smiled as he leaned down to kiss her neck again.

Y/n hummed as she undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then unbuttoning his jeans. Meanwhile, Minho used one hand to push her shirt up. The two worked as best they could undressing each other. Once they finally got the rest of their clothes off and onto the floor, Y/n wrapped her hand around his cock. Minho moaned as she slowly stroked him, one hand of his having taken hold of her breasts. Groping the flesh as his lips worked their way down to the other.

Minho wasn’t trying to hide his moans like Y/n was. He’d heard all his friends before and he was sure they had heard him before so none of it mattered to him. But knowing his girlfriend, he tried not to be too loud and embarrass her. Not that any of the guys would tease them if they knew what was good for them.

His hand that was on her boob moved down and his thumb ran over her sensitive clit. His head came up from her chest just in time to see her tilt her head back in pleasure. Minho leaned into her neck and kissed the skin, making sure to leave his mark on her. Y/n moaned as he sucked on her skin while he circled her clit. Their stroke paces fell in sync, one would pick up their speed and then the other would follow suit.

Y/n managed to pull his lips from her neck up to her mouth. Kissing him to drown out her moans as her hips rocked against his hand. Minho matched her strokes with his hips. Thrusting into her hand as his orgasm approached. Her grip tightened as her second high approached her, taking over her body seconds later. Minho thrusted into her hand as he worked her through her high. His cum shot onto her lower stomach as she came down from her second high.

“Sorry,” Mino apologized as he came down from his orgasm

“‘S okay,” Y/n told him. “It was hot.”

Minho hummed as he sat up, looking down at her. “You look good with my cum on you.”

“Should take a picture,” Y/n said

“Want me to?” Minho questioned

“Camera’s in my bag.”

Minho moved and grabbed her bag from the foot of his bed, quickly finding her camera and getting back in his position. Her legs rested over his thighs as he pointed the camera lens down at her stomach. Catching her wet cunt as well and his dick laying between her legs. Y/n watched the flash go off before he pulled the camera away from his face. Minho leaned down and pecked her lips.

“Want to keep going, kitten?” Minho asked

“Yes,” Y/n answered. “Can I… ride you?” She asked as he leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed a condom.

“My kitty wants to ride me?” He teased as he closed the drawer.

“Please…”

Minho didn’t say anything before flipping their position. He placed her on his lower stomach and handed her the condom. Y/n took the foil from his hand and sat up on her knees. She scooted back a bit as she opened the wrapper and took out the rubber. Y/n jerked her boyfriend’s dick again until he was erect again, then slid on the rubber.

Minho held her hips as she positioned herself above him. She kept his cock steady till the tip was inside her. Moaning as she placed her hands on his waist while she sank onto him. The dancer helped her ease down onto him. He gave her a second once he was fully inside her, keeping a hold on her hips. Y/n sat up straight and held her boyfriend’s wrists and looked down at him. She noticed the light layer of sweat that was covering his body. She found her camera on the bed and held it up to her face.

She snapped a photo of her boyfriend. Minho smiled before taking the camera from her hands. Y/n clenched around her boyfriend as he pointed the camera at her. Minho snapped a photo as she started rolling her hips back and forth. Her hands pressed to his chest to stabilize herself.

Minho took a couple of photos of her and then put the camera to the side again. The dancer planted his feet on the bed and held her hips, slowly starting to bounce her on him. Y/n used her position to lift herself so her boyfriend wasn’t doing all the work.

Minho’s hands moved back and gripped her ass as she rode him. Tilting his head back in pleasure as her walls pulsed around him. Y/n took the chance to lay on his chest and suck her own marks onto his skin. Minho happily let her do so as he lifted his hips and started thrusting into her.

Y/n moaned against his skin as he thrusted into her. Accidently biting down a little harder on his neck when his tip found the spongy spot inside her and hit it dead on.

“Fuck,” Minho moaned, wrapping his arms around her and holding her down on his chest

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled as she kissed the spot

“Don’t. Felt good,” Minho told her as his pace picked up

Y/n moaned as he aimed for the spot again. Hiding away in her boyfriend's neck as her walls clenched around him. She tried rolling her hips to keep up with his pace but she was far slower than him, though she still tried.

The knot was tightening far too quickly in her stomach this time. Each thrust felt like the next would make her cum again. She did her best to hold out but she couldn’t. Her walls spasmed around Minho’s cock. The dance held onto her as her body shook on top of him. Fucking her through the high before his took over. Burying himself into her and letting his cum fill up the rubber.

“Fuck,” both groaned as they caught their breaths

Y/n sat up and looked at her boyfriend's neck. Not realizing how many marks she had left on him — she could only imagine what hers looked like. She ran her thumb over the front of his neck before grabbing her camera again and taking a photo.

Minho chuckled at her before helping her off his cock and laying her on the bed. Y/n smiled as she watched him toss the condom then put on his boxers and leave the room. She looked over three photos they had taken before he came back with a washcloth and cleaned her up.

“Everyone’s in their rooms, wanna go take a shower?” Minho asked

“Yes please,” Y/n agreed.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader smut

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memorabxlia · 3 months ago

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Shoulder to Lean On ━ 연준

genre: fluff summary: on an early morning train ride you fall asleep on yeonjun's shoulder. Startled but unable to move away, he wrestles with his emotions before ultimately relaxing, letting the quiet moment linger. warnings: implied friends to lovers, slow burn (maybe), physical touch, yeonjun is lowkey downbad for reader pairing: bestfriend!yeonjun x fem!reader wc: 935 a/n: requested by anon!

The morning had started with chaos.

You had barely managed to drag yourself out of bed, cursing the universe for scheduling such an early departure. Your suitcase was still half-packed from the night before, a result of your procrastination and the naive belief that “it won’t take long in the morning.” Spoiler alert: it did.

Yeonjun had shown up at your door bright and early, coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. He had leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at your disheveled appearance.

“Wow,” he had deadpanned, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I thought I was bad at mornings.”

You had only glared at him, snatching the coffee straight from his hand and taking a sip without asking. He had let you, smirking as he watched you wake up little by little with each gulp.

The two of you were headed out of the city for a weekend trip with a small group of friends, an impromptu getaway planned during a late-night group chat discussion. A few days away from the noise, from deadlines, from the overwhelming routine of everyday life—it sounded perfect. And it would’ve been, if it weren’t for the ungodly hour of your departure.

The train station had been packed, filled with groggy travelers clutching their suitcases, their own cups of much-needed coffee. Yeonjun had been the one to steer you through the crowd, his hand briefly settling on the small of your back when you almost veered in the wrong direction.

The train itself was a sleek, modern thing, with wide windows that promised beautiful countryside views. You had barely paid attention, focused instead on securing a window seat and making sure you didn’t forget your bag in the overhead compartment.

That’s how you ended up here, nestled into the cushioned seat, the gentle hum of the train vibrating beneath you.

And Yeonjun, of course, had ended up beside you.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first. He was your friend. It was natural. He had plopped down next to you without hesitation, stretching his legs out and sighing dramatically.

“Wake me up when we get there,” he had joked, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Actually, don’t. Let me sleep forever.”

You had laughed, rolling your eyes as you glanced out the window. The city had already started to blur into stretches of green fields, the buildings giving way to open spaces and distant hills. It was beautiful, in the kind of way that made your body relax before your mind even registered it.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But the train rocked like a lullaby, the soft morning light streaming through the window warming your skin. You had tried to fight it at first, blinking rapidly to stay awake, but the exhaustion from your rushed morning and the early hour finally caught up with you.

Your body had leaned, just slightly at first.

And then all at once.

Right onto Yeonjun’s shoulder.

The world faded around you, the steady rhythm of the train lulling you deeper into sleep. The warmth beside you was comforting, solid. You sighed softly, your body unconsciously molding to the space given to you.

Yeonjun stirs, blinking groggily as the train rumbles beneath him. His mind feels sluggish, still caught in the remnants of sleep, and for a moment, he doesn’t register why his right shoulder feels oddly warm.

Then he glances down.

And his breath catches.

You’re there, curled up against him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder, face relaxed in sleep.

His first instinct is to freeze. And he does. Every muscle in his body goes stiff as if the wrong move might startle you awake. He barely even breathes, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs in a way that has nothing to do with the rocking of the train.

Oh. Oh.

You had fallen asleep. On him.

His mind scrambles for what to do. Wake you up? Shift away? Make a joke? He should do something—anything—before the warmth of your weight against him gets too comfortable, before his heart starts reading too much into this.

But you sigh, just the faintest little exhale, burrowing slightly deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. And suddenly, Yeonjun can’t move.

Because the moment is nice. Too nice.

The warmth of your cheek against his shoulder, the way your arm brushes against his—it’s the kind of thing he shouldn’t be paying attention to, but he is.

He swallows hard, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him as if that will somehow stop the thoughts racing through his head. It’s fine. It’s just sleep. You were tired. That’s all.

Except he can feel the way his heartbeat stutters in his chest, the way his skin feels hyperaware of every point where you’re touching him.

And worse?

He doesn’t hate it.

His lips part like he might say something, even though there’s no one around to hear it. But before he can even think of a word, he feels it—

A shift.

A tiny, barely-there nuzzle against his shoulder, so light it could’ve been accidental.

Yeonjun inhales sharply.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. He is not about to freak out over this.

But then he notices something else.

Your breathing—slow, steady, soft.

You’re not waking up.

You’re staying.

Something in Yeonjun’s chest clenches.

He exhales through his nose, his head tilting the tiniest fraction, barely enough to be noticeable. But suddenly, the tension in his shoulders melts, and before he can stop himself, his body relaxes too.

Just a little.

Just enough to let you stay.

❥﹒ networks: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

❥﹒ txt taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice

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howlett-dekarios · 2 months ago

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𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝

▏Cage-fighter!Logan x Reader

▏Summary: Charles gave you a mission of recruiting a new mutant. Not everything went according to plan...

(Scott is an overprotective older brother)

▏Word count: 6,5k

You were surprised when Charles called you into his office. Sure, you were considered as a part of x-men, but since Scott was known for his overprotective nature of an older brother, you barely have been sent on any missions. Stuck in the mansion as if you were still a freaking student.

“You wanted to see me Professor?”

“Oh yes, come in Y/n.” He smiled reassuringly, searching through some documents on his desk. When you sat down, he stopped his previous work and focused his attention fully on you. “How are you?” Always a polite and lovely older teacher.

“Good if we don’t count how Scott has been a pain in the ass lately.” It was met with his little smirk and shake of head. “But you didn’t call me just to chat, am I right, professor?”

“As perceiving as always, my dear. I wanted to see you because of a rather delicate case.” A light sigh left him, but the smile was still formed on his lips. “You see, at the conference I attended, I met an old friend. But it can’t be seen as a good type of meeting.”

You got a slight idea about what he was possibly talking about. Magneto. All of you in the team knew how tumultuous the relationship was with these two. Old lovers who separated because of different perceptions of the world and humankind. Too divergent for them to make it work.

“I have my reasons to believe he’s planning something special for the upcoming conference on which the mutant case will be discussed.” Special was clearly an understatement for the word bad. Really bad if Charles was willing to start his defense before Magneto would do even the first step. “That’s why I need to ask for your help. I believe that Eric wants to acquire a specific mutant for his own purpose.”

“Why?”

“That’s the main reason why we need to get to him first. I don’t know.”

Not good. Even terrible if anyone would ask for your opinion.

“Why me?” Usually it was Storm who recruited new faces, shit even Scott sometimes, but never you.

“Because of your mutation, my dear. The man I want you to find is rather… reluctant when it comes to people. Not very fond of anyone reaching out to him.”

“You know this guy, professor?”

“I’ve met him once, yes. That’s why I know he wouldn’t like to see my face again. But your mutation will be very useful to get to him.”

Though both of your brothers had mutations connected with energy blasting, yours developed in completely different ways. You were an empath. A very powerful if believing Charles words. Despite not fully understanding its full potential, even now you could read people's emotions. Influence them to your will. Search through the memories that were strong enough to leave a track. Empathize, share and resonate with others' pain, ecstasy or anger. Sometimes you also could see the past through objects that people had core feelings about but you couldn’t control that particular fragment of your ability. Usually it just happens without you having any power over it. Like a passive observer drawn into the vortex of events, forced to experience them in a few seconds, like a stop-motion movie. Professors promised you that at one point you will be able to control it, but so far you haven’t made any progress in it.

“What you want me to do? Find him and?”

“Understand and talk him into coming here. While being alone he’s an easy target for Magneto to come for, but here he will be safe and out of reach.”

“That mutant… he has a name?”

“Logan.” Another sigh left your former teacher, like he was trying to recall an old memory. “The Wolverine.”

You were packing in your room when Scott came in and leaned over the door.

“You have everything?”

It was the first time for him to let you go on a solo mission. He had been trying to convince professor to let him go with you, but Charles stood his ground, persuading on you dealing with it on your own. Your brother didn’t like it in the slightest, but it was an old man who had the final word.

“Yes, Scotty.” You sighed, knowing that he was simply worrying about you.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you there.” By drive you knew he meant the jet flight, so you only shook your head, dismissing his offer.

“I’m a big girl, Scott. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, sunshine.” His tone was less rigid than normally would’ve expected in such circumstances. Scott knew that the only thing he could do now was assure you about your abilities and his faith in you. Show his support and trust. “Just fulfilling my duty as an older brother.” His words made you chuckle. On a daily basis this type of attitude was rather irritating but now when you couldn’t really tell how long you're gonna be gone? It was sweet and you definitely will miss your little banters. “Remember though it’s only a recce. You find this guy, kick his ass if it’ll be necessary and call me so we can pick you up, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m the best at kicking asses.”

“Damn you are, N/n.” You both laughed at that, looking at each other. You could say a lot of stuff about him, but in times like that, you couldn’t imagine having anyone else as a brother. Especially after Alex's death. “Come here, you little monster.” You walked towards him and soon enough ended up in a tight hug. “Love you, you know it, right?”

“Love you too, asshole.” You mouthed back, smirking, your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

After hours of traveling you finally got in an obscure bar in a small village in Canada. The spot where Charles told you the mutant had been last seen. The place was cramped, mostly drunk guys in their forties. To say that you weren’t a perfect fit here was a huge understatement. From the moment you entered and sat near the counter, a lot of those men were giving you curious and dirty glances.

But you had to focus on the task. While ordering a drink you heard a loud explosion of roars and got curious about the source of them. Quickly you grabbed your glass and walked over to the crowd circled around the cage, some unconscious guy had been dragged out of.

“Gentlemen! All my years I haven’t seen anything like that! Will you really allow this man to get away with your money?!”

In the meantime when the announcer cheered the crowd, the guy who was still standing in the cage zeroed a whole glass of whiskey at one. Probably won’t be any advantage in the next fight, you thought.

“I’ll fight him!” Some drunk dude yelled next to you and stormed into the cage.

His posture was bigger than the other fighter which made you bet on him. The naked chest one wasn’t even looking at his opponent when the other had made his first move, punching and manhandling him to the fence. It wasn’t a fair action, but you supposed that nothing in this dirty place could be expected to be one. The situation changed completely in the next two seconds because the former champion kicked him off immediately, receiving another round of roars and applause from drunk men around you.

“The Wolverine, everyone!”

Bingo.

You’ve waited another hour or so and the bar slowly emptied, most of the fans of amateur fights and illegal betting already gone or sleeping drunk in the corners. But the man you’ve been looking for nowhere to be seen even though he left the cage some time ago.

“You lost, doll?” The rough hand came to the back of your neck and you felt that characteristic flow of emotions pass through you. A drunk idiot who just touched you had only one particular thing in mind and you didn’t like it. His head clouded by need of sticking his dick into something, in that case: you. “Need company? It would be such a shame for a beauty like you to get hurt. It’s not safe in the city by night, you know?” A dirty laugh left him, your skin feeling his hideous breath on your neck.

“Not interested.”

“Oh come on, doll, you can’t expect to sit here all alone and not make guys believe that you long for some funny time-“

You wanted to channel his thoughts on a completely different track which would give you time to get away from him, but before you could’ve done so, you felt how that guy was pulled away from you.

“She said she’s not interested, bub. Get the fuck out of here, will ya? Night over, look for some whore to stick your dick into.” Your savior’s voice was threatening, almost wanting that asshole to try something.

But even in his drunken state the guy knew better than that, evacuating from the place as fast as his wobbly legs allows him to.

“Thanks.” You whispered relieved how it all worked out without getting messy. Wolverine only checked your posture with indifference and then sat a few stools away.

Shit, Charles was right about one thing. That guy wasn’t the chatty type.

“Gimme one bear and gonna head out, Ted.”

“Some lucky girl waiting for you or what?” Bartender laughed, opening the bottle and setting it in front of the other man. He hasn’t received any answer though. Instead Wolverine lighten the cigar, looking at the small TV broadcasting news about the government conference. The same one that professor mentioned and the one which Magneto wanted to destroy. “Anything for you, sweetie?”

“I’ll pass.” Logan retreated his eyes to you once again, taking a puff of his cigar. His judging sight drilling into your head, but then returned to the news.

You really wanted to talk or touch him to discover why he’s been like this, but before you got a chance to do so, two men approached him from the back. Judging by their facial expression it screamed trouble.

Another day of the same fucking fate. Him walking in the bar, drinking some alcohol, knocking out some overconfident morons and then taking the money he gained by making this shit show entertaining. Logan wasn’t sure anymore why he even bothered with it. At first he wanted to understand his past: flashbacks of his memory which led him to a village in Canada. But for the last few weeks he got none of it. No information, no single clue which would make his mind clear about what the fuck had happened and who he truly was. The only good thing about him ending as a cage fighter was the owner not caring about him being mutant, even being overjoyed that Logan was being his an inexhaustible source of income from the illegal gambling.

After the last fight of the day he was exhausted from all the screaming and shouting. Intoxicated assholes weren’t his problem or at least not until some dickhead would’ve decided to mess with him or kick in the balls like the last jerk who was quickly pacified not so long ago.

Though the second he saw how some drunk perv tried his luck with the young girl near the counter, he only groaned deeply, heading to help her. A place like this wasn’t the right one for a night out especially if you’re a pretty, young and innocent looking girl who’s there all alone. He shouldn’t care, you’re not his problem, probably even wanting that sort of attention if you willingly chose to spend your night here, but sometimes his morals were taking over him.

After scaring the freak away and you thanking him, he really fought with himself not to talk to you. Who knows, maybe you would propose to pay him some way. Not in money, preferably being a good laid for the night. Fuck, he really hasn’t had sex in a long time now and honestly if a sweet little thing like you would be okay with it… But he didn’t ask. That way he would’ve ended up being just another asshole.

The cigar and beer that Ted opened for him had to be enough prize for being a decent guy.

“You owe me some money.” Logan felt the scent of a man who tapped his back. The same dumbass who was so eager to kick balls in the fight. His more sane friend tried to pull him out of the idea of messing with Wolverine, but with no success. Too fucking bad. “No one man takes punches like that without the mark to show for it. I know what you are.”

“Listen, bub, you lost your money, you keep this up, you gonna lose something else.” Preferably his dick but the arm or teeth would work well enough. For most people Logan was intimidating enough not to try anything after the first and at the same time last warning. But this man obviously had to be another level of idiot.

“Watch out!” You screamed not knowing that he could sense how that dickhead took a pocket knife from his pocket before you’ve even opened the mouth. It could be considered as a cute gesture, the way you cared and wanted to warn him. Really an innocent little thing you are.

In no time Logan pinned the asshole who attacked him to the near wall, his two claws out, the middle slowly coming out, the animal anger clearly seen on his face. It was quite a shock that the guy who faced him didn't shit his pants. Well, maybe not yet.

“Keep your horses, Wolvie.” Ted, said in a calm voice. Shit, Logan really craved to just cut that fool head off but he had a deal with the owner. No killing if he wanted to stay there and get his money. That’s why he slowly retracted his claws, nodding with murderous face at guy to get the fuck out of here before he would’ve changed his mind. His blood was still boiling in pure fury but instead of ripping this place apart, Logan took out another cigar and put it in his mouth, adjusting his jacket. “See you tomorrow?” Bartender asked, but knew the answer anyway.

“Whatever.” Logan murmured under his breath and stormed out of the bar without giving you any second thought.

You knew you shouldn’t have come here again. Scott texted you last night concerned why you haven’t reached out yet. Your only answer being that things got a bit complicated but you can handle this. Apparently only quick intervention of Storm and Jean made him sit his ass down and not storm here right away.

So here you were, sitting by the same counter and drinking some coke mixed with vodka, waiting for your mission to finally come in.

“You really are looking for troubles, princess, aren’t ya?” He gave you a look full of judgment and hesitation. But something else was hidden behind it. The way he smirked, tone of his voice… almost teasingly pleasing to hear.

“Maybe I am.” You smiled back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Yesterday you got lucky, sweetheart. Tonight you may not have enough of it.” No knight on a white horse would save you. Not Logan.

“I’ll take the risk.”

It only made him smirk once again, not believing how naive you were to think you can survive in such a place.

Seeing him getting ready, warming up in that cage shirtless… it made you feel things you didn’t think were possible in real life. In the mansion you haven’t had much choice in developing your social life. Most of the guys were students, younger than you and being afraid of Scott enough not to even approach you without a good reason: training or other school stuff. Of course your brother couldn’t fully control what you’ve been doing behind the closed doors. Fuck that was probably the reason why Storm gave you a vibrator for your last birthday to help yourself with your needs on your own. But here? With Logan’s naked sweaty chest and dogtags hanging on his neck. You squeezed your legs to get some friction because otherwise you were sure about going crazy. His hair made into little kitty ears weren’t helping your sanity either…

The night had been going on very identical to the previous one. Him making a pulp out of his opponents who were stupid enough to walk into the cage. His movements were almost hypnotizing. The internal animal while fighting just to be gone a second he had a break for a sip of whiskey. Your attention was less and less focused on your main task, but you had still in mind how he had vanished yesterday.

It was a freaking stupid idea. Probably one of the most foolish and ridiculous you ever had. So just in case you’ve sent the localization of your phone to Scott, texting him to start the engine.

“Is there any person who is brave enough to stand this beast? Face him and return the money to you? Or you gonna-“

“I will do it.” Your voice echoed through the room, firstly met with silence just to make the crowd laugh.

“You sure? This is no place for little ladies like you, pretty.” Announcer laughed, trying to disarm all the tension.

“I’ll take the risk.” You repeated the same words you previously used in little chat with Logan, already walking into the ring.

Shit, you were rather confident about your fighting skills, your training partner being Colosssus of all the people in the mansion who was a good two feet bigger than you… but you’ve never faced anyone with a healing factor. It definitely was a horrible idea.

“You go easy on her, we clear?” The man with a mic whispered to Logan’s ear but you heard it anyway. “Don’t need some dumb chick’s blood on this floor and these drunk fucks to get involved.” Logan only nodded, zeroing his drink and turning around to face him.

Your outfit definitely wasn’t helping your case in being more intimidating. Some washed out jeans and black top showing your thin arms. As if this man would’ve been even intimidated by you in the first place after rescuing you yesterday.

“Listen princess, maybe it’s not about others, huh? Maybe it’s about lack of survival instincts. Or you’re just dumb. Nothing personal.” He hasn’t attacked yet, rather waiting for you to make a first move. “I’m not into playing with girls. Not like that.” Such a gentleman. “You still have time to-“

But you didn’t let him finish. Roundhouse kicked him back strong enough to make him move two steps backward. Your foot stung like hitting a fucking wall, but Logan just smiled. The grimace dark with a hint of surprise and determination. Like your move just made it all more interesting for him. His head still lowered, he run his tongue over his teeth and chuckled. You’ve tried to charge again, stroking blows and using your advantage of being more flexible and agile. Unfortunately with no success because he dodge them all. Just like he could have sensed your movement before the punch even hit. Quickly enough he had you in a headlock, standing behind you.

“You lost, princess.” He whispered, grinning proudly.

Before you were able to answer you felt that familiar wave of power flowing through you. His dogtags were pressed against the back of your neck which activated the part of mutation you couldn’t control.

Images from his life passed in front of your eyes. Him talking with some military officer, how he got his claws and all adamantium in his body. The following events: the farm and older marriage that helped him and got killed, discovering the truth about the whole intrigue he got involved into, the fight side by side with his brother and how he lost his memory. But more importantly, all his pain and anger. It all lasted only a couple of seconds but the intensity of it made you squirm, tears falling down your cheeks. Now you understood the reason why your foot hurt after kicking him. This guy had freaking metal instead of bones inside his body.

The connection broke with him letting you go, stepping back like he just got burned.

“I-I’m sorry…” You’ve coughed out, looking at him with glassy eyes. Pure fear on your face while apologizing for something you couldn’t even understand. But the only thing you’ve been met with was anger. The realization hit you instantly. You haven’t only relieved the memories from dogtags, but at the same time also linked with Logan himself. The emotions of a man whose mind had been invaded without any consent. You fucked up, because the man who stood in front of you wasn’t just a fighter anymore. It was so much more.

The dark expression of a monster who’s been set free off the leash gave you enough reason to genuinely believe you not gonna get out of it alive.

Logan’s head was on fire. Burning and stinging like he just got put a red metal inside of it. He felt like a part of his brain was cut out and squeezed into a really tight spot. For a few seconds his mind wasn’t his own.

He didn’t give a fuck if you were a woman anymore.

“Who the fuck are you?” His voice was a mere whisper. Warning of what to come clear. The next moment he pinned you down to the floor, knee securing that you won’t be able to move and his big hand on your neck suffocating you. If it was up to him, he would’ve ripped the truth out of you right there and then. But unfortunately he couldn’t. You two still had an audience. “That’s what gonna happen now, you hear me?” The small nod of your head was enough for him to continue. “You gonna pat out, leave the bar and wait for me outside. And you better pray for me to find you there, we clear?” He whispered through his teeth and you couldn’t have done anything else than to obey his orders. “Good bitch.”

All things that happened after this were just a blur for him. How the guy cheered the crowd, you running out, him grabbing his bag and storming out of the place accompanied by the yells for him to come back. It didn’t matter, he didn’t give a single fuck. He will never come back here anyway. Not after what you’ve done.

“At least you’re obedient or scared enough to listen orders. Get in the fucking car.” You were dragged to the truck. Logan opened the door for you to get in but you doubted it was an act of politeness. Probably he would’ve thrown you in if you would’ve fought him. After making sure you won’t try anything, he walked over and started the car.

“Where are we going?” You’ve asked after some time in a way of complete silence.

“Not your fucking problem.” It was his. He couldn’t stay there, not after what happened in the cage. Logan should’ve left a long time ago but your little show was the last push he needed. Now his only purpose being to get the hell out of this area as far as possible and press you enough to start talking. “What the hell was that, hm?”

“What was what? I don’t know-“

“Stop with the bullshit now, princess, or I’m gonna make you.” Logan reached for the glove box to get his cigar but the movement was so sudden that you squirmed away. He gave you a glance and saw the fear in your pale face. Traces of tears still visible on the red cheeks from the cold as you’d waited for him. Fuck, maybe he was too harsh with you. You were still young and innocent, clearly not used to the angry and dark light of man who was yelling at you. “Listen, bub, you damn well know what I’m talking about. You’ve been inside of my head. How?” His tone more gentle but still demanding.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know or you don’t care?” He lightened the cigar. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n.” You answered, less scared now he’d changed the tone. “I’m like you.”

“Trust me, princess, you are nothing like me.”

“You’re a mutant.” He gave you a quick side look but stayed silent. “The claws you’ve scared that guy with… the way you’ve won all your fights. When they come out… does it hurt?”

“Every time.”

“I’m a mutant too.”

“And you can what? Fuck with people brains without asking?” Logan was still pissed but tried to somehow stay civil not to scare you again. Seeing how you shivered something in him broke a bit. Damn he ordered you to wait for him in the freezing cold temperature with no coat… He put the heating on. “Put your hands on the heater.” He tried to move them for you, but you once again retreated. “I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.”

Not anymore. Not when he calmed down a bit. After a while when you felt warmth spread through, you decided to get back to your conversation.

“I’m an empath. Can feel people's emotions by touching them. Sometimes influence them if I’m willing to.” Or at least that what you’ve already known you could do and more importantly, how.

“So what, you can say when someone’s happy?”

“More or less. Can say and feel it. Mirror the exact amount of it. Happiness, anger… pain.” It got you curious what he had said about the claws… living in constant pain…

Logan didn’t say anything back so you’ve stayed in silence again.

“The Wolverine… you’ve chosen it.” You looked at his dogtags but he quickly hid them under his shirt. Then he realized how it wasn’t even a question.

“How do you know?” Logan edged again. He couldn’t recall the exact situation himself, only shreds of it in his nightmares, so how the fuck would you know.

“I-I…”

“You what, princes?” The grip on a wheel tightened.

“I’ve seen it… the moment you’ve asked to make them.”

“What?” The car stopped immediately, he facing you as if he had misheard you.

“Sometimes I can see the fragments of people’s past connected with objects… When we were close, I-“

“Have you seen anything else? Before it all happened?”

“No…”

“Are you fucking sure?” Months of searching, praying for any sort of clue just to find nothing. And now he discovered that the one person who could bring it all together was sitting in his car. He couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let you go.

“I swear, Logan!” You cried, tired of his questioning.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know a person who knows you. Who can help you.” Well Charles told you that this guy wasn’t very fond of him, but since Logan lost his memory then it was no harm to try.

“How?” He was getting frustrated by how this was the only word he has been repeating since the beginning of it all.

“He’s the principal of the school I’ve attended.”

“A school?”

“Place for people like us. Mutants. He’s a telepath and one of the smartest people I know. If anyone will be able to help you, it’s gonna be him. But you need to get with me there to let him try.”

Logan was considering his options. It could easily be a trap. Not the first one he had stepped in. But your heartbeat and how genuine you’ve sounded… he doubted you were trying to fool him.

“I’ve seen you checking me out today.” The sudden change of topic got you off guard. But he had to revert his mind to something else. Destress. And the fact he was sitting in one car with an innocent little thing like you who had been wet just because of his naked torso hours ago? He won’t give up his luck. “Never seen a man’s chest before, sweetheart?” His eyes were dark again, this time not because of rage but desire. “You had been clenching your goddamn legs like you could’ve come just by the sight of it.”

He was able to smell you. The scent of your arousal hidden under these jeans of yours. He could bet that your panties had a wet patch on them. His hand moved to your thigh, thumb caressing small circles inside of it.

“It’s okay, princess, I don’t blame you. A sweet innocent thing like you craves to be taken care of, is it right?”

“L-Logan-“ Your quiet moan only proved him right.

“Shh, it’s alright, darlin’ let me do it. Let me take care of you.”

His skilled fingers opened your zipper and helped you get out of your pants, just to trail the pad of them on the wet spot.

“Fuck, princess you’re soaking. Can I take them off?” Logan asked but your nod made him chuckle. “Words, Y/n.”

“Y-yes.”

He quickly got to work, showing your panties down and throwing them somewhere in the back of the car. When he brought his fingers back on your cunt, teasing your clit, you tried to close your legs but his big hands stopped you.

“None of that, doll. Keep them nice and open for me like a good girl.” He rubbed tight slow circles around it which made you squirm and close your eyes. “That’s it, relax for me, baby.” Next second his fingers found their way into his mouth and helped smiled teasingly. “So sweet. Best I’ve ever tasted.” And without any warning he put one of it in your cunt, making you scream. “So fucking tight. Can’t even take one. You’re a virgin, princess?”

You tried to move your head, too shy to even look at him, but his other hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to face him.

“Eyes on me and answer, Y/n.”

“Y-yes.”

“An innocent little girl you are. Saving yourself for me.” Another finger joined the first one, moving deep in and out of you, stretching your walls so you would be able to take him. Him being knuckle deep made you drool, eyes rolled to the back of your head, trembling because of too much pleasure. But then started an attack on your clit with his thumb and you were completely gone.

“Logan!” You screamed, overstimulated already. “Too much!”

A smug smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, eyes half-hooded. "Two fingers is too much?" he says, almost sounding surprised. "Come on, doll, be a big girl. You could fight me but can’t take two fucking fingers?” He mocked you.

You're gasping for air, chest heaving. His thick fingers pump in and out of you, pussy frothing all over them.

"T-They're so big," you whine.

Hearing your raspy, lewd voice causes his cock to throb. He chuckles, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent. Shit, Logan was so sure that the second he will bury his dick in you, he will never get over you. Never let you go.

"You know what I think? I think you can handle one more. Just to get you starched and nicely prepared for my dick, darlin’.”

The thought of not one, not two, but three of his huge fingers has your pussy clench uncontrollably. That weird feeling in your stomach forming, the one that you so well know from all the lonely nights when you had your own hand deep in your panties. The second he forced the third one made you cum harder than ever before. You shudder, biting down on your lip as you feel the wetness all around your legs and Logan’s hand. Fuck, something was definitely wrong, you only hoped that he didn't catch that. Yet the warm liquid is coating his wrist and upper arm, all the way to his elbow.

“Fuck, did you know you can make a little mess like this, love?” He says, gesturing with his head towards his arm. He pulls his fingers out and you groan audibly at the loss, your hold clenched around nothing. “Your virgin pussy already missing me like a cheap slut, Y/n.” Seeing your face all red and how shy you became, Logan opened his pants and loved them with his boxers, showing you his already fully hard length. He quickly brought you to sit on his laps, swinging your ass back and forth just to torture your puffy clit even more. “But it’s okay, princess. That’s what we want. I need you nice and wet, okay?”

“Logan…” You choked out because of his actions and he kissed your lips just to shut you up. No matter how much he loved your little cute whines, he needed you as aroused as possible to make you take his big size.

“Shit, I hope I'm the first one who kissed you too. Too sweet and innocent to share.” His lips left the trail of kisses down your neck, sucking and biting. Wanting to mark you any way possible.

“Shit, Logan, please…” You moaned, your mind fully clouded with need by this point.

He took off your shirt, unhooking your bra and fuck him if it wasn’t the best sight he could’ve imagined. Big breasts that were perfect for his huge hands to play with as he wished. The vision of you bouncing on his dick with them in front of his face gonna be the image of what he will jerk off every time from now on.

“You’re gorgeous, love. Can’t get enough of you.” His skilled tongue sucked and licked your nipple while one of his hands paid attention to the other one, which made you arch your back.

You weren't sure anymore if you wanted him to stop or get closer.

“You ready, princess?”

Logan asked and it got you back to your right mind. You were naked in the car of a guy who you were supposed to take to the mansion as your mission. A man you’ve known for not even two freaking days and Scott could be here in any second.

“Logan, wait!” He looked at you confused. Worried that he had done something wrong. “My brother gonna be furious-“

It only made him laugh. You are a damn innocent one truly.

“I don’t fucking care.”

And with that he lowered you slowly on his cock, your scream echoed all over the truck. You have no control of how vocal you became, pain mixing with the pleasure. The thought of how much effort he put into preparing you for it… you considered yourself lucky for him being so thoughtful.

“It’s okay, princess, I got you. You are doing a good job. Such a good pussy for me. I got you, Y/n.”

Logan gave you some time to adjust to his size, knowing that for most of his partners it was a lot to take, let alone for you.

“Y-you can move.” You whimpered, putting your head on his shoulder.

“You sure, darlin’?” Your nod was the last sign of consent he needed to move you up and down his length. He was doing all the work, gripping your ass but still he left some sort of control for you to take over in case of feeling any sort of discomfort. But fast enough your body forgot about the pain of sudden intrusion, instead sinking in the spiral of pure pleasure and ecstasy. You being a moaning mess, squeezing him as a vice. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Never letting off this cunt ever again. Shit!” He groaned when you clenched uncontrollably.

When you got more confident and started moving at your own pace, his hands move to your breast again, playing with them and paying attention as being hypnotized by them. His face deepened between them, earning you another low groan murmur.

You two were so focused on your pleasure that you didn't realize when the weather outside of the car changed. Instead of a clear sky, there was a little snow storm. Just the loud sound of falling tree on the mask got you out of your trans.

“Fuck!” You screamed, frightened of what happened.

And the moment you turned back to see what was wrong, your heart sank. Not so far from the car two people were standing and looking at the whole scene. As one of them started walking closer to your door, you quickly got off Logan’s member, looking for your underwear but it was nowhere to be found. You opted for putting on your jeans and when you’ve desperately searched for your top, the leather jacket was handed over.

“Cover yourself, princess.” Logan’s tone has been definitely too calm considering how cooked you were.

“Scott gonna kill us.” Though you weren’t sure who first, you because of loosing your virginity the second you got off his radar with a guy who you’ve meant to recruit, or Logan for fucking his little sister.

“Who’s Scott?” A confusion in his voice could be cute if not for your executioner being just two steps from the door.

“He’s my-“ But then the door opened and you just sighed, pointing at Scott. “Him. Logan, this is my brother Scott.” You turned to face your sibling, forcing yourself to smile innocently. “Hi Scotty, how nice of you-“

“Out. Of. The fucking car. Now.” He ordered you, pure fury in his eyes, his voice dangerously heavy. “And you asshole… you better pray that Professor gets you before I will.”

Well, this definitely will complicate the atmosphere in the team in the future…

▏A/n: Okay, so this specific mutation and character's background (as Scott being her older brother) gonna be also part of the bigger fic that I'm currently working on. I don't know yet if this shot will be a part of their story (Logan and that oc) so that's why I'm posting it here now. Still I would be grateful if you guys wouldn't use that characters specifics in your stories <3

▏Also I just adore the thought of Scott being the protective older brother and it being the reason why his and Logan's relations are so tensed later.

▏If you wanna join my Logan's fics taglist check this post.

▏Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Sof

@california-boys-and-sun @r-oseie

#logan howlett #james logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #x men #xmen wolverine #scott summers #cyclops

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followmybadreligion · 22 days ago

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Thinking about a vacation w your obsessed bf!art…

From the second he told you about it and then on, you were bouncing off the walls. While you’d already set the boundary with Art about these kinds of trips, limiting them to every so often instead of nearly every day like he preferred, it was still so exciting when he’d send you that “Flight leaves at 8 am baby. Get packed up :)” text.

Art’s definitely the “let me take care of it while you look pretty,” type of guy, but only when it comes to you. Flights, transportation, Air BNB— all handled before you even know a trip is happening. He’s a firm believer that his girl shouldn’t have to stress about anything, especially if he could help it.

Once he gets all the technicalities figured out, like which cities y’all are visiting, what y’all are doing on each day and all that other stuff, he can start focusing on the more fun things. Fun things like you guy’s wardrobe, or couple pictures, or instagram captions, because best believe he’s showing the world his baby looking all good on their vacay. He literally becomes your built in photographer; angles, backgrounds, lighting— he’s got all that. All you have to do is dress cute and pose for him.

On your first few trips, you were a bit self conscious about doing this. You knew that he wasn’t judging you, and that to him all of your pictures were good ones, but still, you couldn’t stop the nagging fear that you’d do a weird face or pose that turned him off. He was quick to pick up on your self consciousness though, so he tried the method he knew best; affirming.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he’d whisper, smiling softly with his phone camera held out. You smiled up at him in response, sunlight plastered across your face, giving him the most perfect frame. He’d snap a few at a time, taking a second to look over them in awe before turning his phone towards you with a soft, “See?”

Even though his words failed to erase all your insecurities— stop you from sucking in your stomach or turning you head away him his view— they did make you feel a bit more comfortable, actively combatting the negative notions you had. He just had this way of speaking that made you believe him. You knew Art— he would never lie to you— and if he could see you so beautifully, then you could see yourself that way too, which eventually made these little photoshoots fun in a way.

You had the most fun with your couples pictures, though. Art would try his hardest to look stoic and manly in the first few, like this looming protector of yours who’d fuck anybody up behind you, but the more and more that you moved him, positioning him different ways or making him do different things, the more his facade fades away into one of a lovesick puppy.

The second you plant even the smallest kiss to his lips, holding it for a few seconds to snap a few pictures, is the second his lopsided smile breaks through and he’s hazy-eyed for the rest of your shots. It’s heart warming, in a sense, to look back and see him looking at you with stars in his eyes, so content to be in paradise with you.

Speaking of paradise, that man is going to have you in a food-inspired heaven.

Art loves to feed you, whether he’s cooking himself or taking you out to eat some place, so it wasn’t a surprise when he’d planned a good amount of your meals for the trip in advance. Only the best restaurants, on the days you ate out, and only his best dishes when he cooked for you on his own.

It was his excuse to be extra romantic with it, too. Every chance he got, he was holding up a delicacy for you to enjoy. That fancy wine and cheese spread he made? He’s hand feeding you dressed crackers until your full. Cute pastries he picked up for breakfast? He’s cutting into them and holding it out for you like second nature, just waiting for the cute little moan you released whenever you were satisfied.

The sweetest boy imaginable, fr :)

#challengers #challengers art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers art #challengers ask #obsessive!art #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere #mike faist #bf!art #obsessed #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art x reader

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iamquiantrelle · 4 months ago

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PLAYING FOR KEEPS (chapter 2)──────iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : jules koundé x black oc

⌗ tags : @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @greedyjudge2 @f1-football-fiend @2serenity0 @peyiswriting @coffeevacation @sunfairyy @bbgkoo @127hydrangeas @kj77

⌗ summary : jules is focused on himself — no girlfriend, no drama — but now he seems to have both after pictures of him having fun at a friend's house party shows up in tabloids, and now fashion houses are calling for him? and his agent wants him to keep up this charade? ♡ masterlist. (✨💕)

Mila's first PTO request in eight months had her manager looking at her like she'd lost it. But after that McDonald's photo turned their store into a tourist attraction for football fans, no one argued when she said she needed a few days off.

The first-class seat to Barcelona was courtesy of Jules' management team - apparently fake girlfriends don't fly economy. She'd packed light: two archive-worthy reconstructed LV pieces (that may or may not have been strictly approved), a few vintage finds, and her iPad full of design sketches she could actually produce now that she had official backing.

Her phone hadn't stopped since she posted a cryptic airport story. The comments were wild: "BARCELONA?? 👀" "omg she's going to see him" "peep the LV luggage, she stays on brand"

A text from Jules broke through the notification chaos: "sent a car for you. driver's got strict instructions not to let any paparazzi follow you to the hotel"

Of course there were paparazzi. Three days ago she was just the mean stylist at Galeries Lafayette who kept going viral for roasting rich people's fashion choices. Now she was getting papped at Charles de Gaulle at seven in the morning on a Tuesday.

"your fans are insane," she texted back. "someone already found my flight number"

Jules (Da Boo): welcome to the circus 😮‍💨 see you in an hour? we've got a strategy meeting with PR at 11

Mila leaned back in her seat, watching Paris disappear beneath the clouds. A week ago she was dealing with entitled clients and corporate bureaucracy. Now she was flying to Barcelona to plan a fake relationship with a footballer who actually had decent taste in vintage Prada.

Her life was starting to sound like one of those Wattpad stories her sister was always reading.

The car Jules sent was waiting as promised. The driver held up a sign with "M. Paris" instead of her real name, which was probably smart given the number of phones already pointing her way.

Her hotel room was bigger than her Paris apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Barcelona, and someone (definitely Jules) had filled the closet with fresh flowers and a handwritten note: "in case you need more material to roast my fashion choices - see you at 11."

Mila took a quick shower, changing into one of her reconstructed pieces - a vintage LV blazer she'd transformed into a dress that corporate would definitely not approve of. Her phone buzzed with another text from Jules: "paparazzi already outside the hotel. ready to start the show?"

She checked her reflection one last time. The Barcelona sun made her brown skin glow. She'd let her hair stay straight but added some extra curl to the ends, the way she wore it when she first met Jules at the store. Her makeup was editorial but not trying too hard - she had a reputation to maintain after all.

"let's give them something to talk about" she texted back, grabbing her bag.

The hotel lobby was suspicious - too many people pretending to read newspapers while holding phones at weird angles. The PR team had suggested they get photographed "accidentally" meeting for breakfast before the strategy session. Make it look natural, they said. As if anything about this situation was natural.

She spotted Jules immediately. He was failing to look casual in the hotel's cafe, wearing a vintage YSL sweater she'd actually complimented once (not that she'd remind him). The whispers and phone cameras followed her path to his table.

"That dress is definitely not LV approved," he said instead of hello, standing to kiss her cheek for the cameras. His cologne was unfairly good.

"Neither is this fake dating scenario but here we are." She sat down, noting how he pulled her chair out just enough to make it look practiced. "Nice sweater. Finally learning how to dress yourself?"

"You literally picked this out."

"Did I? Must not have been one of your tragic days then."

The cameras were definitely getting all this. She could already see the headlines: "Fashion's New It Couple Share Intimate Breakfast." At least Jules knew how to sit for good angles - some of her clients at the store could never.

"You good?" he asked, sliding a coffee her way. Oat milk latte, exactly how she took it. He'd been paying attention during their store conversations.

"Yeah, though I have questions about this PR team of yours. Their PowerPoint had more transitions than a 2005 presentation."

Jules laughed, and Mila caught herself thinking it sounded even better in person than over the phone. The cameras definitely caught that too - her genuine smile, the way he leaned in closer.

"They have a whole mood board for us," he said, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Apparently we need to 'cultivate an aesthetic of playful antagonism with underlying romantic tension.'"

"So just keep doing what we've been doing, but add hand-holding?"

"And maybe fewer public roasts about my shoe choices."

"No promises on that one, babe." The pet name rolled off her tongue easily, perfectly timed as someone definitely not-subtle-enough took a photo.

Her phone was already blowing up. Her sister had sent approximately 47 messages in all caps. The LV corporate account had gained 10k followers in an hour.

Jules' hand found hers across the table, a practiced move that looked natural enough to fuel a week's worth of Twitter theories. "Having second thoughts?"

Mila thought about her design sketches upstairs, the archive access waiting in Paris, the way her follower count had tripled since that McDonald's photo. Then she looked at Jules - annoying, handsome, surprisingly fashion-competent Jules - and the way he was trying not to smile too wide for the cameras.

"Please," she squeezed his hand just enough to make it look real. "I'm just getting started."

Breakfast wrapped with enough staged candid moments to keep social media fed for days. Outside, Jules' Lamborghini Urus was waiting, because of course it was.

"Really? A Urus?" Mila raised an eyebrow. "How very new money footballer of you."

"Wow, okay," Jules shot back, "you're standing there in your bougie little sunglasses and Capucine bag judging my car choices?"

Mila pulled down her sunglasses, looking at him over the rim. "Not our first lovers' spat..."Jules opened his mouth - to retort or apologize, she couldn't tell - but she cut him off. "I'm fucking with you. Chill." She pulled the door open and slid inside, immediately hit by the clean leather smell and pristine peanut butter colored seats. "Cute."

Jules got in the driver's seat, starting the car with a rev that was absolutely unnecessary but admittedly hot. He pulled out into Barcelona traffic with one hand on the wheel, all casual confidence and big dick energy that she refused to be affected by. His full lips were pursed in concentration, focused on the road ahead.

"Why are you single?" The question left her mouth before she could stop it.

He cut his eyes at her briefly, shooting her a 'what the fuck' look. "What?"

"Why. Are. You. Single?" She repeated slowly, deliberately sarcastic. "Or should I speak French instead?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Parlez-vous bien le français?" The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, his native accent making something flutter in her stomach that she immediately shut down.

Oh hell no, her thoughts protested.

"Je parle bien," she responded coolly. "So the reason you're single?"

Jules took a smooth turn before answering. "Focused on my career. Not trying to be another footballer stereotype." He glanced at her. "Why are you?"

"Too busy roasting rich people's fashion choices to date." Mila adjusted her sunglasses. "Plus the people at Galeries Lafayette are either trust fund babies or married to trust fund babies."

"And footballers?"

"Are you fishing for compliments right now?"

The Urus purred as Jules accelerated, weaving through traffic with irritating skill. "Just trying to figure out if my fake girlfriend actually likes me or just my access to the archives."

"The archives are definitely in my top three reasons," Mila smirked. "Your natural teeth are up there too."

"My what?"

"Do you know how rare it is to find a footballer with his original teeth? No veneers, no ultra-white chiclet smile. It's refreshing."

Jules' laugh filled the car. "You've really thought about this."

"I work in luxury fashion. Footballers and their WAGs are half my client base. Trust me, I've seen every variation of the Instagram Face possible."

They pulled up to a sleek building that screamed 'expensive PR firm.' Through the glass doors, Mila could see Bruno, Jules' agent, pacing in the lobby. He was exactly what she'd expected from their phone calls - tall, perpetually stressed-looking Italian man in his forties, wearing a suit that she could tell at a glance needed better tailoring. His Rolex was real though, and his shoes were Berluti - at least he had some taste.

"Ready to plan our love story?" Jules killed the engine but didn't move to get out.

"Ready to convince your agent I'm not going to ruin your pristine image with my brutal honesty?" Mila countered.

"Bruno's already convinced you're the best thing to happen to my brand since I signed with Barcelona." Jules reached over, adjusting her blazer slightly. The gesture felt weirdly intimate. "Apparently my engagement is up 400% since McDonald's."

"What can I say? People love a good roast."

"Is that what we're calling this?"

Mila caught his eye, noticed how the Spanish sun through the windshield made his skin glow. "We're calling this a mutually beneficial business arrangement. With occasional hand-holding."

"And French pet names?"

"Don't push it, chéri." She grabbed her bag, ignoring how his smile widened at the nickname. "Let's go plan our fake romance before Bruno has an aneurysm."

Through the glass, they could see Bruno now gesturing wildly at a presentation screen. Several PR people were nodding along, one frantically taking notes.

"Ten euros says there's a slide about our 'coupled aesthetic journey,'" Jules said as they got out of the car.

"Twenty says they've already planned our Paris Fashion Week debut."

"You're on." He offered his hand to help her up the steps. "After you, chérie."

"Such a gentleman," Mila rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway. "Almost makes up for the Urus."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Are you ever going to admit it's a basic choice?"

Bruno spotted them through the glass, his face lighting up like they were his winning lottery ticket. Which, given the media frenzy around them, they kind of were.

"The PR team made a mood board," Jules murmured as they reached the door. "Try not to roast it too hard."

"No promises." Mila straightened her shoulders, sliding seamlessly into the role of fashion's favorite mean girl who'd somehow fallen for football's best-dressed player.

The conference room had modern art pieces that Mila could tell were bought to impress rather than for actual appreciation. Bruno practically bounced as they entered, his Berluti shoes squeaking against the polished floor.

"The power couple has arrived!" He gestured to two seats at the head of the table. "Please, sit. We have so much to discuss."

Mila caught Jules suppressing an eye roll as they sat. The PR team - three women and two men all wearing variations of the same sleek business casual outfit - were staring at them like they were rare specimens in a zoo.

"First," Bruno clicked to his first slide, "let me present 'The Evolution of Fashion's Favorite Romance.'"

"You owe me ten euros," Jules whispered. The slide literally had "Coupled Aesthetic Journey" as a subtitle.

"Now," Bruno continued, "we've mapped out your relationship timeline. The McDonald's photo? Perfect organic start. But we need to build on that authenticity."

The next slide showed a calendar that made Mila's eyebrows shoot up. Paris Fashion Week appearances, "candid" shopping trips, carefully planned coffee dates, match day arrivals coordinated down to their accessories.

"You owe me twenty," Mila muttered. Fashion Week in January was highlighted in bright red.

One of the PR women - Mila clocked her Chanel brooch as last season - leaned forward. "We're thinking of playing up the 'fashion critic meets football star' angle. The public loves your dynamic."

"The witty banter on social media," another PR person chimed in, pulling up screenshots of their past interactions. "The style evolution documented on Mila's blog. It's perfect enemies-to-lovers material."

Jules choked on his water.

"Speaking of social media," Bruno clicked to another slide titled 'Strategic Digital Romance,' "we need to discuss your posting schedule. Nothing too obvious, but we want to maintain consistent couple content."

"Couple content?" Mila raised an eyebrow.

"You know, morning coffee photos, subtle background appearances in each other's stories, maybe some playful commentary on Jules' match day fits…"

"So exactly what we've been doing, but now with a relationship tag?" Jules asked, looking amused.

"Precisely! But with more…" Bruno waved his hands expressively, his Rolex catching the light, "romantic undertones."

The presentation continued - slides about "leveraging their fashion influence," "maintaining authentic interactions," and a whole section about their supposed meet-cute story at Louis Vuitton.

"We need to workshop the details," one PR guy said earnestly. "When exactly did you first feel the attraction? Was it during a particular styling session? The public wants these intimate moments."

Mila caught Jules' eye. He looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"What about the McDonald's night?" The Chanel brooch woman asked. "How did that spontaneous moment happen? We should align our narratives."

"Oh, I can answer that," Mila smiled sweetly. "I was hungry, Jules was there, and someone had a camera. Very romantic."

Bruno's face fell slightly. "Maybe we can embellish that a bit…"

"The truth isn't Instagram enough?" Jules asked innocently.

"We just want to ensure the story resonates," Bruno recovered quickly. "Now, about your first official appearance together - we're thinking the charity gala next week. Mila, we'll need you to coordinate your outfit with Jules' team colors…"

Mila's phone buzzed. A text from Jules: "they planned our entire relationship down to our instagram filters 💀"

She typed back: "bold of them to assume I'm wearing team colors"

"Now," Bruno clicked to yet another slide, this one titled 'Public Displays of Affection Guidelines,' "let's discuss appropriate couple behaviors…"

Jules' next text: "20 euros says you roast their suggested pose chart"

Mila bit back a smile: "40 says Bruno has a powerpoint about our future breakup too"

"And lastly," Bruno clasped his hands together, looking oddly pleased with himself, "we've arranged for your belongings to be moved from the hotel to Jules' house—"

"Excuse me?" Mila straightened in her chair.

"It's a bit strange for you to be at a hotel when your boyfriend has a perfectly good home," Bruno explained. "The guest room is lovely, I'm not suggesting you need to sleep together… unless of course you want to." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm all for a little kiss here and there but I'm drawing the line at snu snu."

"Snu snu?" Jules doubled over laughing, actually laughing, and Mila shot him a death glare.

"I mean it is a better name for it obviously. Should I just say fuck then?"

"Now, let's not use that word—" Chanel brooch woman began, clutching her outdated accessory.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Mila counted off on her fingers. "We're all adults here. I'm sure everyone got fucked at least once in their lives, but yeah, no deal."

Bruno looked like he was getting an ulcer. The PR team was frantically scribbling notes, probably adding 'manages crude language' to their strategy deck.

"Besides," Mila added sweetly, "what would the internet think? Moving in together after one viral McDonald's photo? That's giving desperate."

"But if we established a timeline of when you two began dating, isn't it normal to spend a weekend at your boyfriend's?" one of the PR guys leaned forward.

"He has a point," Jules concurred.

Mila's head snapped toward him so fast that her sunglasses nearly flew off. Benedict Arnold has entered the chat, apparently. They were supposed to be on the same page - at least that's what she assumed.

Guess the fuck not, she thought.

She inhaled a deep, steady breath and looked Jules right in the eye. When she spoke, it was in perfect French, her voice deadly calm:

"Écoute-moi bien. Je ne suis pas du tout à l'aise de rester chez toi. On se connaît à peine, et je suis ça proche," she held up her thumb and forefinger with barely a millimeter between them, "de tout laisser tomber. Je pensais qu'on était d'accord sur les limites, mais apparemment, tu as d'autres idées." (Listen carefully. I am not at all comfortable staying at your place. We barely know each other, and I am this close to dropping everything. I thought we agreed on boundaries, but apparently, you have other ideas.)

The PR team watched their exchange like a tennis match, even though none of them seemed to understand French. Bruno was the only one nodding along, probably mentally calculating how to spin this tension for the media.

Jules let out a groan and his eyes twinkled with something she couldn't place. Her gaze watched intently as he licked his lips - wow, not sexy at all - and he placed both hands on the table. "Mila, s'il vous plaît." She shook her head stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. Then Jules did the one thing that made every fashion girlie perk up almost instantaneously. "I'll take you shopping."

Because yeah, she was a slut for shopping. I mean what girl wasn't? And besides, she had her eye on this new Fendi bag she spotted last week, and part of her new 'duties' as a fake girlfriend was making his pockets hurt, wasn't it?

"Budget?" she asked stoically.

"What budget?" he retorted with a grin showing all of his thirty-two natural teeth.

Good answer.

"Deal," she said, uncrossing her arms. "But if you do anything weird—"

"I know, I know. You're done."

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Bruno clapped his hands together. "Now that's settled, let's discuss your first shopping appearance. We need to capitalize on this organic moment—"

"No." Mila and Jules said simultaneously.

"The shopping stays off social," Mila added. "I'm not having my Fendi moment ruined by paparazzi."

"But think of the engagement—" Chanel brooch started.

"You'll get plenty of engagement from whatever we decide to buy," Jules cut in smoothly. "But the actual shopping? That's private."

Mila shot him a surprised look. Maybe Benedict Arnold had some redeeming qualities after all.

"Fine, fine," Bruno conceded, though he was already typing something in his phone. "Let's wrap up with the charity gala details next week. Mila, we'll need you to—"

"I'll handle our looks," she interrupted. "That's non-negotiable."

"But the team colors—"

"Will be incorporated tastefully," she assured him with zero intention of doing so. "Now, if we're done here, I believe I was promised some retail therapy?"

Jules checked his watch - Audemars Piguet, she noted approvingly. "Stores close in three hours."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Mila stood, gathering her Capucine. "Bruno, send me the presentation. I'll review the PDA guidelines while Jules tries to talk me out of bankrupting him."

"Bankrupt?" Jules raised an eyebrow, already standing.

"Oh honey," she patted his chest as she walked past, making sure the PR team caught the casual intimacy, "that was before I remembered how you insulted my bougie sunglasses earlier."

She heard him groan behind her. "So everything I say comes with a price?"

"Now you're getting it." She pushed the conference room door open. "Coming?"

Bruno was practically vibrating with joy as they left, probably already drafting tweets about their playful banter. The PR team had their heads together, no doubt planning how to spin their shopping trip even without photos.

In the hallway, Jules caught up to her in two long strides. "You're really going to make me pay for that comment?"

"Obviously." She adjusted her sunglasses. "But if you're lucky, I might let you hold the shopping bags."

His laugh echoed through the lobby. "You're evil."

"And yet you just gave me unlimited shopping access." She headed for the Urus, already mentally cataloging which stores to hit first. "Who's really the evil one here?"

The Urus weaved through Barcelona's streets, probably attracting more attention than either of them needed right now. Jules kept stealing glances at Mila while she pretended to be fascinated by the passing scenery.

"Your French is really good," he said finally, breaking their comfortable silence.

Mila didn't look away from the window. "Should be. Spent enough time perfecting it to sound like a national." A pause, then, "Fashion people respect you more when you sound French. They're not exactly known for their warmth toward foreigners."

"When did you move to Paris?"

"Four years ago." Her reflection in the window looked distant for a moment. "Left everything behind."

"Your parents were okay with that?"

"Don't have parents." Her voice was matter-of-fact, like she was discussing the weather. Before Jules could stumble through an apology, she added, "I mean, they're physically still on this earth. Just dead to me. Lots of trauma, more therapy bills than I care to count."

"Then we won't talk about it."

"Ever," she said firmly.

"Ever," he agreed, then switched lanes and subjects. "When's your birthday?"

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Yours but backwards."

"Been googling me?"

"Please. Only the basics." She finally turned from the window. "Apparently we're cosmically compatible. Just FYI."

"Don't tell me you believe in that astrology bullshit."

She clutched her chest in mock horror, and Jules couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "Of course I do." He glanced at her, trying to read her expression. "Jesus, Jules, I'm fucking with you." She laughed, and it echoed off the Urus's pristine interior. "Always so serious."

"Full name?" He tried to sound casual, like he hadn't been wondering since that first roasting session at Louis Vuitton.

"Want my social security number too?"

"You're impossible."

"Part of my charm." She adjusted her sunglasses. "Ja'Mila Desirée Lawrence."

"Desirée?"

"Yes, very stripper chic, I know."

"What? No. It suits you."

"You know what else would suit me?" Her tone was dangerous in the best way.

He took the bait. "What?"

"My new Fendi bag."

"You're going to be dangerous for my bank account, aren't you?"

"Consider it payment for making me stay at your place tonight."

Jules caught himself smiling despite the impending damage to his credit card. She was trouble, and he was starting to think Bruno's fake dating scheme might not be the worst idea after all.

The Barcelona luxury shopping district was exactly what you'd expect mid-afternoon - full of influencers pretending not to take photos of themselves and tourists clutching shopping bags like trophies. Jules pulled into a private parking spot that probably cost more than most people's rent.

The Fendi staff recognized them immediately - though Jules wasn't sure if it was from football or their viral moment. Probably both. A sales associate materialized instantly, all practiced smiles and careful enthusiasm.

"The new collection just arrived," she said, leading them to a private viewing room. "Though I'm sure Mademoiselle Lawrence has already seen it at Galeries Lafayette?"

"Different stock in Paris," Mila replied smoothly, already eyeing a bag displayed in the corner. "Plus, I'm not exactly here in a professional capacity."

The bag in question was exactly as expensive as Jules expected. He watched Mila examine it with the same critical eye she used to roast his outfit choices, turning it over in her hands like she was memorizing every detail.

"Your thoughts?" he asked, genuinely curious about what made this bag different from the fifty others in the room.

"The craftsmanship is decent, the leather quality is excellent, and it'll definitely make your ex-girlfriends angry on Instagram." She shot him a wicked smile. "Plus, it matches that Saint Laurent jacket you pretended not to buy after I suggested it last month."

"How did you—"

"I have my sources." She handed the bag to the hovering sales associate. "We'll take it. And maybe show us the ready-to-wear?"

Two hours and several eye-watering price tags later, they emerged with enough bags to keep social media busy for weeks. Jules had to admit, Mila had an eye for more than just roasting his choices. Every piece she'd picked for him was perfect - subtle enough for his taste but interesting enough to keep the fashion blogs talking.

"You know," Jules said as they loaded the bags into the Urus, "you're actually pretty good at this when you're not just criticizing my choices."

"Please. I've been styling people for years. The roasting is just a bonus service." She carefully arranged her new Fendi bag in the back seat like it was precious cargo. "Besides, someone needs to save you from your occasional hypebeast tendencies."

"Says the girl who just made me buy a logo-covered jacket."

"It's vintage. Completely different." She settled into the passenger seat. "Now, about this charity gala next week…"

**************************************

"By the way," Jules said as they pulled up to a gate, punching in a code. "Bruno sent an NDA to your email. Pretty standard stuff - don't leak personal details, no tell-all books, no secret TikToks about my morning routine."

"How will I ever survive not sharing your coffee preferences with the world?" Mila perused through her phone, skimming the document. "Wait, there's a whole section about social media guidelines."

"Welcome to footballer life."

"'All posts must be approved by management prior to publishing,'" she read out loud. "'No sharing of private residence details.' Damn, there goes my house tour vlog series."

The house appeared as the gates opened - all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, like a minimalist magazine spread come to life. The kind of place that screamed 'my interior designer has good taste.'

"Your room's upstairs," he said, leading her through the house. The home was pristine, probably thanks to whatever cleaning service rich footballers used these days. Her room was airy, with a view overlooking the city.

Mila dropped her bags by the door, eyeing the king-sized bed. "Please tell me the sheets are clean. And should I be worried about any hoes coming around stuck in their feelings?"

"Hoes?"

"You know, hoes? The ones you stick your dick in sometimes? They love ballers a lot? Groupies?"

Jules leaned against the doorframe, amused. "No hoes will be coming around."

"Good." She tested the mattress with one hand. "You can still get your dick wet though. Just be discrete about it." The look on his face made her pause. "You're not seriously thinking of fucking me, are you?"

Jules crossed his arms over his chest. "Wasn't it you that mentioned we were cosmically compatible?"

"What the fuck—"

"Chill," he said, nudging her arm. "I'm fucking with you."

"Just remember, this is strictly business."

"Says the girl who just made me buy half of Fendi."

"That's revenge shopping for making me stay here."

Jules pushed off the doorframe. "Dinner's coming soon. Try not to reorganize my entire closet before then."

"No promises," Mila called after him. "Someone needs to deal with your sneaker situation."

There was something else lingering in the air between them. Something that had been there since that McDonald's night, maybe even before that. Chemistry wasn't even the right word for it - it was more like recognition. The way they both moved through their worlds, focused and unbothered until something caught their attention. The way they both used humor to deflect, sarcasm as a shield.

Jules knew better than to push it. He'd watched her enough in the store, seen how she operated. Mila was like him - she'd make a move if and when she wanted to. She didn't need games or pressure. She'd either want it or she wouldn't, and she'd be direct about it either way.

*****************************************

Jules ordered pizza because anything fancier felt like trying too hard. He could hear Mila upstairs, probably judging his closet organization system - or lack thereof. His phone hadn't stopped buzzing since they left the shops. Bruno had sent approximately fifty texts about their "organic shopping moment" and how the internet was eating it up.

The doorbell rang just as Mila came downstairs, now wearing what looked like designer sweats.

"Really? Pizza?" She perched on one of his kitchen stools, watching him set down the box. "Very bachelor of you."

"Would you prefer I pretended to cook?"

"God no. I've seen enough footballer food porn on Instagram." She grabbed a slice. "Let me guess - your nutritionist is going to kill you?"

"Already got three texts about my macro count." He pulled up UberEats on his phone. "Pretty sure they track my orders."

"Tragic." She was eating pizza like someone who'd mastered the art of not messing up their lipstick. "Though not as tragic as your sneaker collection. We need to talk about your storage situation."

"Did you actually reorganize my closet?"

"Someone had to. You had Yeezys next to Louboutins. It's basically a hate crime."

His phone buzzed again - another text from Bruno with a screenshot of their shopping photos already making rounds on the gossip blogs. Mila leaned over to look, close enough that he could smell her perfume. Something expensive, obviously.

"Your ex liked the post," she noted, tapping the screen. "Interesting."

"You're tracking my ex's likes?"

"Please. I'm tracking everyone's engagement. It's called market research." She stole another slice of pizza. "Also your teammates are flooding my DMs."

"They're worse than Bruno."

"Why didn't you ever try to run game on me at LV?" Mila asked out of the blue, wiping her hands on a napkin.

Jules raised an eyebrow. "You wanted me to run game?"

"No, just shocked you didn't." She reached for another slice. "TAA did a few times - always in DMs, posting thirst traps. Too light skin for me though."

"I'm light skin."

Mila gave him a thorough once-over, the kind she usually reserved for questionable outfit choices. "You are, but not really."

The look of confused amusement on his face only made her grin wider. But instead of explaining, she switched topics entirely. "This pizza's actually decent. Thought you'd be one of those guys who orders from tourist trap spots."

"You never really answered my question though," Jules said, reaching for another slice. "Why'd you think I'd run game on you?"

"Because footballers always do. But you didn't even try."

He watched her for a beat before explaining. "I'm shy, actually."

Mila nearly choked on her pizza. "You are not shy."

"Just ask my teammates - it takes me a bit to warm up to new people."

"But you were talking to me."

"Because you're cool."

"I'm cool?"

Their eyes connected across the kitchen island.

"Yeah, you're cool," he replied, and for a moment neither of them moved. Jules cleared his throat first. "Any exes I should worry about?"

"I don't date men."

His ears perked up. "Are you on a different team?"

"Men are complicated." She twisted the cap off her water bottle. "They do too much. Not to mention the fragile ego. I just do what I want when I want—"

"With who you want?" He finished.

She nodded. "You're getting it now."

"So you don't have someone taking care of needs?"

"Speak plainly, chéri."

That made him chuckle. "Okay well you don't have a person... to... uh... make you cum? Non petit mort?"

"I have a couple people in mind, but if they're busy, a vibrator can—"

"A vibrator can't do what a dick can." He was trying to lean against his counter like this was a normal dinner conversation.

"Oh, so you think you know?"

Jules grabbed his water bottle, taking an unnecessarily long sip. Mila's eyes tracked the movement, watching his Adam's apple bob as he drank. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer than it had any right to be. Finally, he set the bottle down. "I know that I know."

"Talking with too much BDE. Hopefully, you have it."

"Huge BDE," was his response.

His phone started buzzing - once, twice, three times. Probably Bruno having a meltdown.

"Are you gonna answer?" She asked, watching him over the rim of her bottle.

Jules picked up without breaking eye contact, watching her demolish another slice of pizza like they hadn't just been discussing his dick capabilities. "Yeah, Bruno?"

"Tell me you've seen the engagement numbers!" Bruno's voice was way too excited for ten-thirty at night. "The shopping photos are trending—"

Jules watched Mila scroll through her phone, probably finding more of his fashion disasters to roast. "Bruno, it's late."

"Late? It's prime social media hours! Listen, we need to discuss tomorrow's strategy. The team wants you both at training—"

"Both?" That got Mila's attention. She looked up from her phone, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, yes! Very organic. Mila comes to watch practice, maybe posts some stories—"

"I have a job," Mila said loud enough for Bruno to hear. "A real one. With actual responsibilities."

"But think of the narrative! The supportive girlfriend who still roasts his training kit choices—"

Jules pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bruno."

"Fine, fine. But at least post something tonight. The internet needs content!"

"Goodbye, Bruno." Jules hung up before his agent could launch into another strategy pitch.

"He's exhausting," Mila said, but she was already typing something on her phone. "Though he might be right about your training kit. That shade of blue does nothing for your complexion."

"Are you actually critiquing my uniform?"

"Someone has to." She showed him her screen - a story draft of their pizza box with the caption 'making sure he eats real food' and a blurry outline of his body the background. "Think this'll give Bruno his content fix?"

Jules had to admit - she knew exactly what she was doing. "You're good at this."

"Please. I've been studying WAG behavior for years." She posted the story with a few quick taps. "Though most of them wouldn't be caught dead eating pizza on main."

His phone immediately buzzed with Bruno's approval messages. Mila's notification count was already climbing.

"Your ex viewed it first," she noted, not looking up. "Interesting."

"You're really tracking her, huh?"

"Market research." Mila pulled up his ex's profile like she'd been studying it. "She's pretty though. I see your type."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "My type?"

"Brown skin pretty girls." She zoomed in on a photo. "She kind of looks like me, but not really. Better makeup routine though."

"You've put thought into this."

"Please. First thing I did when Bruno mentioned this fake dating thing was scope out the competition." She was scrolling through more photos now. "How long were you together?"

"Year and a half."

"Decent run for a footballer." She set her phone down. "Why'd it end?"

"The usual. Career, distance."

"Boring answer. Give me the real tea."

Jules couldn't help but laugh. Most people tiptoed around his relationship history like it was radioactive. But here was Mila, demanding gossip over pizza in his kitchen.

"She wanted the footballer lifestyle more than the actual relationship," he said finally. "You know the type - endless Instagram posts, club appearances, WAG brunches."

"Basic." Mila was back to scrolling through her phone. "Oh wow, she really did post every breathing moment. Three different angles of the same Birkin?"

"That was the start of the end, actually. She posted my house location in one of her bag collection videos."

"Amateur move." Mila shook her head like this was the gravest fashion crime possible. "Even I know better than that, and I'm not even your real girlfriend."

"Real enough to reorganize my closet."

"Speaking of which..." She stood up, stretching. "I need to finish dealing with your sneaker situation. The way you've stacked the boxes is giving me anxiety."

"It's almost midnight."

"Time means nothing when fashion crimes are being committed." She was already heading for the stairs. "Also, your ex just posted a thirst trap. Coincidence? I think not."

Jules watched her disappear upstairs, probably to terrorize his shoe collection. His phone buzzed with another notification - Bruno sending screenshots of their pizza story going viral.

"Your Dior highs are not gym shoes!" Mila's voice carried down the stairs. "Why are they with your training gear?"

He grabbed another slice of pizza. This fake relationship was either going to fix his closet organization or drive him insane. Probably both.

Jules was used to having his home gym to himself at five in the morning. It was his thing - pushing his body before most people even thought about waking up. The discipline that kept him focused, kept the headlines about him professional instead of personal.

That's why finding Mila already there threw him. She was in the middle of a stretch sequence, compression shorts hugging curves that her Louis Vuitton uniform usually kept professional. The sports bra was obviously designer, but he was more distracted by the abs he didn't know she had. Her hair was thrown up in a bun, stray pieces falling around her face, held back by a headband that somehow made the whole look intentional.

"You're staring," she said without looking up from her stretch. "It's creepy."

"Didn't expect anyone else to be up."

"Please. You think this body maintains itself?" She switched positions with practiced ease. "Besides, early mornings are the only quiet time I get."

He watched her move through another stretch. "So this is a regular thing for you?"

"What, you thought I just stood around at Louis Vuitton looking pretty?" She finally looked up. "Those bags are heavy as shit. Requires maintenance."

Jules thought about their conversation from yesterday, her joke about cosmic compatibility. Turned out they had more in common than sharp tongues and an eye for fashion. Not that he'd give her the satisfaction of pointing that out.

"Well, don't let me interrupt your routine," he said, heading for the treadmill.

"Don't worry about me." She was already putting in her airpods.

Jules tried to focus on his treadmill stats, but his eyes kept drifting to Mila at the squat rack. The compression shorts weren't helping his concentration. Neither was her form.

He pulled out his phone, angling it for his usual morning workout story.

"Oh, we're doing thirst traps at five a.m.?" Mila's voice carried across the gym.

"Social media never sleeps." He checked the shot. "Don't worry, I won't post you. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you want to be posted."

She switched to deadlifts, and Jules suddenly found his playlist extremely interesting. Needed something with a stronger beat. Definitely not because he was trying not to stare at her ass.

"Your playlist must be fascinating," she called out, clearly enjoying his obvious distraction. "You've been scrolling for two minutes."

He cranked up his treadmill speed instead of answering. Some battles weren't worth fighting this early in the morning.

"By the way," Mila said between sets, "your ex unfollowed me."

"Already?" His feet kept steady on the treadmill. "That was fast."

"Right? She lasted longer than I expected." Mila moved to the pull-up bar, and Jules nearly tripped. "Careful there, chéri. Can't have you injured before training."

"Just adjusting my speed."

"Mhmm." She knocked out pull-ups like it was nothing. "Oh, and Bruno texted. Apparently we're trending again."

"It's five in the morning."

"Time zones exist, babe." She dropped from the bar, checking her phone. "Ooh, someone found videos of me dancing at that party. Your fans are real thorough."

Jules made the mistake of looking over. She was stretched out on the floor now, scrolling through her phone, all long legs and curves. The treadmill beeped a warning about his elevated heart rate.

"Focus on your cardio," she said without looking up. "Though I guess watching me is cardio adjacent."

You have no idea, Jules thought, watching her transition into stretches that were definitely more flexible than necessary. The way she bent over to touch her toes was practically a personal attack at this point.

That flexibility though... he could think of a few positions—

Nah. Don't.

He had to remind himself this was fake. Pretend. She'd made it pretty clear last night she wasn't down to fuck. Which was a shame because if her smart mouth was any indication—

Yeah. He definitely needed a shower.

"I'm done here," he announced abruptly, probably too abruptly, already heading for the door. "Training starts at 9."

"Running away already?" Her voice followed him out, amused.

Running was definitely one word for it.

************************************

Jules did some quick mental math about his morning schedule. Flick wanted them on the pitch by 9, and it was barely 6. That left him plenty of time to deal with the mess Mila had unknowingly left him in. Her compression shorts were burned into his brain, and the way they hugged her curves made it impossible to focus on anything else. His body had betrayed him the second she walked in, and ignoring it had only made things worse.

By the time he stepped into the shower, Jules was hard as a rock, the tension unbearable. Resigned, he leaned into the inevitable. Water cascaded down his locs, hot and relentless, as his hand found relief in the only way it could. He closed his eyes, letting the vivid mental image of Mila’s toned legs and the sway of her hips take over. It was quick and when he finally finished, his body shuddered, releasing what felt like weeks of pent-up frustration. His breathing was heavy, his muscles taut, and though his hand wasn’t a perfect substitute for the real thing, it would have to do.

For now.

It was nearly 7 by the time he wrapped a towel around his waist, feeling marginally lighter. His locs dripped water onto his bare shoulders as he stood before the bathroom mirror, wiping away the steam with the side of his hand. His reflection stared back at him, a mixture of relief and lingering frustration. He exhaled deeply, trying to shake off the memory of Mila and focus on something — anything— else.

Jules turned away from the mirror, already planning his match day fit. Distraction was the goal. He’d keep his mind on training, on what Flick expected of him, and not on the fact that Mila was probably still stretching downstairs. He ran a hand over his damp locs, forcing a neutral expression onto his face.

Mila waited until Jules' Urus was definitely gone before starting her post-workout exploration. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the ridiculous coffee machine he probably didn't know how to use properly.

The living room caught her off guard. Family photos mixed with art pieces that actually meant something - not the generic rich athlete collection she'd expected. A Basquiat print that was definitely authentic. Some local artists she recognized from galleries in Paris.

But it was the vinyl collection behind his TV that made her pause. Old school hip hop, French classics, rare pressings she'd only seen behind glass cases.

"Okay, actually impressed," she muttered, flipping through the collection. The organization was methodical, almost obsessive - probably the only thing in his house that was, besides the section of his closet she'd fixed. Each record sleeve is pristine, cataloged by genre and year.

Her phone lit up with a text from her coworker at Louis: "Girl, the store is CHAOS without you. When are you coming back???"

Mila caught her reflection in one of Jules' stupid expensive windows, still in her workout gear, hair a mess from that morning's session. This whole fake relationship thing was either going to make her career or destroy it. No in-between.

"Back Tuesday," Mila texted back to her coworker. "Try not to let anyone buy those ugly seasonal pieces."

Three dots appeared immediately: "The new collection is selling out because of YOU."

Of course, it was. She'd barely had time to process how that one McDonald's photo had blown up her entire aesthetic. Her Instagram followers had tripled. Fashion houses that had ignored her portfolio were suddenly sliding into her DMs.

She wandered upstairs, pausing at Jules' open door. His room looked like a fashion week aftermath - pieces thrown across the bed in his rush to training. Her eyes caught on his nightstand, then his dresser. Before she could stop herself, she was inside, fingers trailing over the surfaces, picking up bottles, checking drawers.

The ensuite bathroom drew her attention next. Row after row of skincare products lined up with military precision. She caught herself cataloging all the luxury skincare products lined up perfectly - at least he took care of his face and that explained the forty-minute shower she'd heard earlier. Mila picked up a face oil, checking the label.

La Mer, someone's real bougie.

"What are you? Interpol?" she muttered to herself as she set the bottle down exactly where she found it, getting the ick from her own snooping.

Back in her own room, she scrolled through notifications while waiting for the shower to heat up. Someone had already tracked down her old design school projects. Fan accounts were analyzing every interaction she'd ever had with Jules at Louis Vuitton. The internet was weird.

A text from Jules popped up: "my teammates found your finsta."

"which one?" she replied, because obviously she had several.

"the one where you rate footballer's fashion choices. they're feeling very attacked right now."

She grinned. That account had been her guilty pleasure - roasting millionaire athletes who couldn't dress themselves, even with a stylist. "tell pedri his latest gucci fit was a 3/10 at best."

"he's demanding a reconsideration."

"he can demand all he wants. those pants were criminal."

Her work phone lit up with another message from her manager at Louis. Something about influencer collaborations and social media reach. They'd been trying to get her to do official content for months, but she'd always refused.

Now here she was, accidentally becoming the kind of influencer she used to roast.

Mila secured her hair in a silk scarf then a shower cap before stepping in the shower. The water cascaded over her shoulders, rinsing away the morning’s workout and the lingering memory of Jules' too-long stare at her compression shorts. She smirked to herself, scrubbing her skin with the sandalwood-scented body wash she’d packed, a scent that clung subtly to her ever since she started using it.

After rinsing the soap off her skin, Mila took a moment to lean her forehead against the cool tile. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind — this fake relationship with Jules wasn’t supposed to feel this real, and yet it did. The way he teased her, the way his gaze lingered a beat too long…

Shaking the thought away, she wrapped herself in a towel. Back in her room, she grabbed a neatly folded set from the corner of her carry-on: a sage green Alo Yoga set, the fabric buttery soft against her skin. It was a far cry from the designer looks she’d wear later, but for now, it was perfect.

The urge to finish what she’d started the night before was impossible to ignore. She glanced back at Jules' messy room down the hall, rolling her eyes at the thought of leaving a job half-done. Her fingers itched at the memory of the chaos she’d left behind. Mila had spent years cultivating an eye for detail — OCD or not, she couldn’t leave her work half-assed.

Once dressed, she tightened her ponytail and grabbed her phone off the nightstand, headed straight for Jules’ room. The mess wouldn’t fix itself, and besides, she wasn’t doing it for him. This was for her peace of mind.

The sage Alo set moved with her as she crouched by his bed, neatly folding the pile of clothes. By the time she moved to his closet, Mila was in full organizer mode. She sifted through rows of designer suits, jerseys, and Gucci loafers.

"Three pairs of the same damn shoe," she muttered, shaking her head. "Who hurt you?"

His followers would probably appreciate knowing their fave had three pairs of the same Gucci loafers in slightly different shades of brown.

She was halfway through color-coding his shirts when her phone buzzed. Jules.

Jules (Da Boo): what are you up to?

She hesitated for a second, thumb hovering over the keyboard, before deciding on honesty.

LV's Meanest Stylist: fixing your closet. you're welcome.

Jules (Da Boo): you better not touch my trainers again.

LV's Meanest Stylist: too late. i’m cataloging them by how ugly they are.

A few seconds later, another text came through: "you’re unbelievable."

LV's Meanest Stylist: and you’re unorganized. it’s a miracle you make it out of the house dressed.

His reply was almost instant: "don’t forget who taught you how to tie a tie, cherie."

She snorted. "Touché."

But even his teasing couldn’t stop her from finishing the job. When she was done, his closet looked like a minimalist’s dream—clean lines, coordinated colors, and a clear division between casual wear and training gear. She snapped a quick photo, not for Instagram but for herself, a little reminder that even chaos could be tamed with enough patience.

Mila flopped back onto his bed, scrolling through her phone again. The internet was still buzzing about them, dissecting every detail of their "relationship." Part of her hated it, but part of her couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the attention.

Another text came in from Jules: "i’m starving. what’s for lunch?"

She smirked, already typing back: "whatever you’re buying."

Jules (Da Boo): you organize my closet and want me to feed you?

LV's Meanest Stylist: yes. you’re welcome.

Mila could almost hear his laugh through the screen.

Jules (Da Boo): fine. 2pm. don’t make me wait, cherie.

By the time she hit send on her "see you then" reply, she was already planning what she’d wear. Jules might have gotten her hot and bothered without even trying this morning, but she’d make sure she turned the tables when he saw her later.

............tbd

#quainwritings #quain’s masterlist #jules kounde #footballer x oc #footballer x reader #jules koundé fanfiction #jules koundé fanfic #jules kounde x black reader #jules kounde x you #fc barça fic #fc barcelona fanfic

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feinv · 11 months ago

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John Wick x fem!reader pleaseeee 🥺 angst angst angst

turned out longer than planned. hope u like it bby <3

john wick x female!reader. fluff. angst. mentions of wounds. reader can’t stand up for herself bear with her.

he has been taking more jobs lately, more often than not getting out of bed at an early hour when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, and coming back well past midnight, leaving you all by yourself in the walls of your big mansion.

you were on the couch, legs crossed as you watched him put on his bulletproof vest before packing his body with guns, rifles, and knives. you could already feel the tears threatening to burst, but decided to speak up anyway. “could you stay?”

his head snapped towards you, stopping in his actions, “what?”

“n-not right now i mean…in general. could you stay home more? you are always away…” you explained, fighting everything in you not sound like a fool, whispering the last part more to yourself than him.

his eyes went back to his firearms as he continued getting ready, “you knew what my job was when we started dating. don't act like i blindsided you,” sounding like a harsh statement.

oh. you were taken aback by his serious tone, unsure how to react since he never talked to you like that before. but again, you didn’t really engage in an actual conversation with him this past month, so it was hard to say if he was acting unlike him or exactly like him.

“why are you complaining now?” you flinched at his harsh tone, snapping out of your thoughts, "my work takes up a lot of my time, and you were aware of that,” circling around to get his full magazines, “I can't just drop everything for you,” annoyance dripping from his voice.

your eyes were following his movements, immediately focusing at something else when he looked back at your figure. “i know that. but that doesn’t mean i can’t want more time with you. is that too much to ask for?” you anxiously fidgeted with your fingers, silent tears now streaming down your face.

john felt a tingle of empathy for you, but his anger and defensiveness got the best of him, and he retorted, “don’t guilt trip me for doing my job.”

“can you just…take one or two a week?” your face etched with pain and frustration, voice cracking as that lump in your throat just won’t let go.

“my reputation is on the line here. taking days off isn't practical," he dismissed you, closing the locks of his artillery filled case.

“please, john. just hear me ou-”

“no,” he cut you off spitefully, heading towards the door and muttering “don’t stay up for me,” before slamming it shut, unbearable solitude enveloping you once again.

3:17 am

naturally you would’ve been asleep by now, but you couldn’t stop wetting the pillows after your fight, turning and tossing around in the bed, trying to doze off, but nothing could help.

you heard the tires of his mustang drift against the gravelly porch of your house, followed by the sound of the front door opening, then closing.

you could hear him pouring himself a glass of bourbon and crashing down on a couch with a heavy sigh. having memorized all his routines, you knew he wasn’t the one to drink after job unless he needed a painkiller. and despite him shattering your heart today, it still ached with worry. you got out of the covers and took the first aid kit from the bathroom before slowly making your way to the living area.

you stood there, like an awkward child, contemplating if you should just drop it and leave him like he left you, or following your heart. you settled on the latter. he heard your footsteps before your form came into his vision, craning his neck to acknowledge your presence, dark eyes scanning your body as you approached him, straddling his lap and opening up the kit.

his face was littered with wounds, some not too serious, others cut quite deeply, his once slicked backed hair disheveled with a few strands covered in dried blood.

with a trembling sigh leaving your chest, you started working on cleaning his face, dabbing it gently with alcohol dipped cotton ball.

“told you not to stay up,” he murmured before eliciting a wince at one of the deep cuts. your cheeks were wet again, and you didn’t even know why were you crying anymore. because he was hurting? because he hurt you?

it didn’t matter as his thumb wiped at your soft skin, his deep voice whispering in the dark, “i’m sorry.”

you stayed silent the entire time, refusing to squeal a sound at the fear of making a total clown out of yourself.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’m an idiot,” he continued, his other hand gently caressing your thigh, “don’t cry because of me,” which made you break down completely, stopping your actions and burying your face in his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as you weeped, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “i’ll do as you wish. i promise,” he stated in your ear, whispering i love you as you cried yourself to sleep in his strong embrace.

#this actually made me so sad tho ngl #john don’t act like an asshole i’ll remind you that no one you ever love stays #feinv—jw #john wick angst #john wick x reader

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b1xi · 3 months ago

Text

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:2899

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Tsukishima waited patiently for you outside the gym, his figure slightly hunched as he checked his phone. Inside, you were deep in conversation with Ukai and Sensei Takeda, trying to spin a believable lie to justify your early departure. With any luck, most of the team members were busy and distracted, making it easier for their attention to not be focused on you.

“I just need a moment to organize a few things at home,” you said, forcing a smile that tried to sound natural. Ukai squinted at you in distrust, but eventually nodded.

“Okay, make sure you come early tomorrow,” he replied, returning to his conversation with Takeda.

Hearing his approval, you felt immediate relief. You quickly said goodbye and headed towards the exit, where you found Tsukishima leaning against the wall, his expression impassive, though there was a slight glint of interest in his gaze.

“Everything ready?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, looks like they believed me,” you replied, smiling as you approached. “Now we can go.”

The two of you began walking together towards the exit, neither of you having a definite plan on what to do or where to go. However, Tsukishima was moving forward with remarkable confidence, heading towards the subway station. You hurried a little to keep up with him, trying hard to keep up with the crowds entering and exiting the station.

Noticing you picking up speed to catch up with him, Tsukishima slowed down, allowing you to get closer. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your small figure momentarily get lost in the bustle of people. It was then that he deliberately extended his hand towards you, a gesture that surprised you and made your stomach tingle slightly.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, but when you did, Tsukishima secured his grip, and you felt the warmth of his hand envelop yours. “Your hands are cold,” he commented, picking up his pace as the two of you made your way onto the platform, which was even more crowded with people.

As you moved forward, the crowd grew thicker, and before you knew it, the sound of the approaching train echoed through the air. A group of passengers pushed towards the entrance of the car, and Tsukishima guided you firmly through the crowd.

When you finally entered the car, you realized it was packed. People were packed in, and there weren’t enough seats available. Tsukishima stood next to you, and the forced closeness made your heart beat a little faster. With his hand still intertwined with yours, you found yourself almost glued to him.

The train began to move, and the inertia pushed you a little closer to Tsukishima. You avoided any kind of eye contact with him, praying that the ride would be quick. However, when you finally reached your destination, excitement began to replace anxiety. Tsukishima took you to an aquarium in Nishikigaoka Prefecture. Upon arrival, he asked for two tickets, and the two of you entered the dark halls and corridors, illuminated only by the lights that passed through the glass of the large fish tanks.

The setting was perfect; the gentle murmur of the water and the dim lighting created a calm atmosphere. As you moved forward, you found yourself surrounded by an impressive variety of marine species. Brightly colored fish swam leisurely, and the huge fish tanks were full of life.

“Look at that!” you exclaimed, pointing to an aquarium containing a group of clownfish frolicking among anemones. The sight filled you with joy, and a glint of admiration lit up your eyes.

Tsukishima, however, seemed to be completely focused on you. His gaze remained on your face as you smiled, and a slight smirk played on his lips, as if he enjoyed your enthusiasm more than the fish themselves.

“It’s impressive,” he replied, though his tone showed that his interest was mostly focused on how the light reflected your shocked expression. “But I think you shine more than them,” he added, trying to hide the sincerity behind a sarcastic comment.

You blushed at his statement, feeling heat build up in your cheeks. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” you replied, embarrassed but amused.

Damn, you’d have to agree with Akiteru later; his advice on how to pick up girls was paying off. “Let’s go this way,” you told him, heading towards a more open area, designed for children, where small pools contained corals, urchins, starfish, and other sea creatures that could be touched.

You approached one of the pools, filled with small stingrays. You dipped your hand into the water, feeling the softness and sliminess of their backs, adorned with brown colored patterns. “Uh, that feels weird,” you commented, reaching out a hand to reach another stingray, curious.

“Tsukishima, try it!” you encouraged, turning to look at him. The blond had crouched down beside you, cautiously watching the movement of the rays.

“Come on,” you insisted, pushing him lightly with your knee against his. His expression was a mix of doubt and curiosity, but the way he looked at you seemed to tell you that he was willing to give it a try.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Tsukishima dipped his hand into the water. At first, his posture was tense, as if he was afraid that the rays might do something to him, but as he felt the texture of the animals, his expression began to relax. “It’s not that bad,” he admitted, a small smile breaking out on his face as he watched the rays move.

“See? It’s fun,” you told him, feeling satisfied at seeing him enjoying himself. “Let’s move on to another tank.” You stood up, looking for another one that would catch your attention. Tsukishima watched as your eyes lit up as you moved from one place to another, surprised that you were so excited about it.

“Tsukishima, look, penguins!” you pointed excitedly towards one of the signs that indicated the exhibition area. Without thinking, you ran over there, taking his hand to guide him.

You continued to stop at each of the fish tanks and exhibits, marveling at the variety of marine life until it was time to head home. You walked leisurely through the streets, enjoying the atmosphere that surrounded you.

“Are you excited to go to Tokyo?” your voice broke the silence between you two.

“I guess,” Tsukishima replied with a short answer, glancing at you briefly. “We’ll be playing against several pretty good teams.”

You spoke with more enthusiasm as you mentioned the rival team. “Yeah! I’m really excited to play against them.”

“Why are you so excited to play against Nekoma? We always lose,” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Because they’re really good, and I enjoy playing with Kenma. Which reminds me, Tsukishima, that time you told me Ukai-kun needed me… it was a lie.” The words left your lips, and you noticed how Tsukishima tensed at them, his face beginning to blush in embarrassment.

“If you wanted to play with us so much, you could have just told me,” you added, with a mocking tone.

“I didn’t…” he tried to defend himself, but you interrupted him.

“Be honest with me, Tsukki.”

After a long sigh, seeming to give in to the pressure, he decided not to put up any more resistance. “Well, I admit I was a little jealous that you two…” he muttered, the last part in a low tone, but clear enough for you to hear.

You paused for a moment, surprised by his confession. “Jealous? Of what?” you asked.

“I don’t know, stop asking stupid questions,” he replied, bringing a hand to your hair and ruffling it nervously, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.

You got off the bus with Kiyoko and Yachi, greeting some Nekoma boys who were waiting for them outside the school. You stopped for a moment to observe the metropolitan landscape of the city, quite different from the urban and quiet environment of Miyagi. The tall buildings and the bustle filled you with an exciting feeling of novelty.

“Yamamoto, that's why you don't have a girlfriend ” you said mockingly as you passed by the Nekoma player, who was on his knees in front of the Karasuno managers, trying to get his attention. Your comment caused a small laugh from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were walking behind you.

You were excited to see the school gym and watch the practice of the other teams they would be playing that day. However, when a hand pulled hard on the handle of your backpack, you stopped dead. Ukai was holding it firmly, and next to him was Takeda sensei.

“Come on, you’re not getting away with this one,” the dyed blonde said, tugging lightly on the handle.

You whined in annoyance, throwing your head back. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll just be a quick chat with Coach Nekomata,” Takeda chimed in, following you with a determined stride.

“They’re always boring,” you replied, following the two of them through the quiet hallways of the Tokyo school.

You followed the two adults through the facilities until you finally found the Nekoma coach at the end of the hall, who was waiting patiently for them. The meeting was brief, but no less boring. For the most part, you just waited in silence, only responding when spoken to. You knew you couldn’t complain too much; you had chosen to be the assistant and no one had forced you to.

Finally, after a few words exchanged about the teams’ performance and expectations for the match, Takeda and Ukai concluded their conversation. “Thank you for your time, Coach Nekomata,” Takeda said, as they turned to leave.

“See you at the gym,” Ukai added, leading you back down the hall.

As you entered the gym, the bustle of the players intensified as you approached the court. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and you could feel the excitement in the air. In the distance, you saw the Nekoma team warming up, and your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Kenma among them.

“I’m going to say hello to Kenma,” you said, feeling like the opportunity couldn’t be passed up. Ukai nodded, giving you a slight push forward.

You approached the Nekoma group, and Kenma looked up from his console, surprised to see you. “Y/N,” he said, a small smile lighting up his face.

“Kenma! I’m excited to see how you’re doing today,” you replied, feeling the conversation flow naturally. “Ready for the match?”

“That’s right,” he said, shrugging but keeping his smile. “It’s always fun to play against you guys.”

“It is because you always beat us,” you thought internally, keeping a smile on your face. Your eyes rose to the tall figure of the boy with grey hair and green eyes, who was standing behind Kenma. His slanted eyes watched you curiously.

“Ah, this is Lev Haiba,” Kenma said, pointing at the tall boy. “He’s a new recruit to the team. Lev, this is Y/N, Karasuno’s assistant.”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure,” you greeted, noting that this boy was quite tall, even taller than Tsukishima. You didn’t miss some of his mixed features, which gave him a distinctive air.

Lev extended his hand for a friendly handshake, which you gladly responded to. “You’re different, where are you from?” he asked, his large hand wrapping around yours enthusiastically.

“I come from Miyagi,” you explained, feeling Lev’s positive energy contagious. “And you? Your accent is a bit different.”

“I’m half Japanese and half Russian, so my family has a bit of influence from both sides,” Lev replied, smiling widely.

“I understand, I’m surprised at how tall you are, taller than—” you failed to finish your sentence, as you noticed the tall, blonde boy standing behind you, staring with cold eyes at the boy in front of you. “—Tsukishima…” you finished, raising your head to look at him.

Tsukishima watched Lev intently before slightly lowering his head down to look at you. His golden eyes met yours, displaying his usual indifference. “Do you have a moment?” he asked, beginning to walk away towards the court space that had been assigned to the team. You said goodbye to Lev before following him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you reached his side, next to the basket of balls near the net.

“Set it up for me,” he asked, his neutral voice sounding more like an order than a favor. “Can you do it?” he continued, his tone slightly sarcastic as he noticed your confused expression.

“Of course I can,” you replied defensively, frowning as you grabbed a ball and moved a few steps closer to the net.

You prepared to throw it, but when you did, the ball went too low, flying just over the net and landing uncontrollably. Tsukishima tried to hit it, but the impact was a miss. “Really?”

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, acknowledging that that had been pretty bad. It was just the first one, though; the others would be better. “Let me try again.”

You picked up another ball and moved a little further away, this time making sure your throw was higher. However, the ball went so high that Tsukishima had to stretch to catch it, but he failed to do so and let it go by. “Can you do that right?!” he exclaimed, clearly irritated.

“Maybe you should practice your jump, Tsukishima,” you threw back, smiling as you picked up another ball. “It might come in handy if you ever decide to actually play,” you said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” he replied in a scathing tone, before rolling his eyes and preparing to spike again.

“So, do you want me to do it again, or are you going to keep complaining?” you asked, picking up the ball once more, ready to take another shot.

“Just do it right this time,” he replied, crossing his arms with an expression of defiance.

With determination, you threw the ball, making sure it flew at an appropriate height. This time, Tsukishima hit it accurately, sending it to the other side of the court. You smiled excitedly, expecting some sort of recognition for doing well this time, but received nothing but silence from him. His indifference bothered you more than you expected.

You decided to keep throwing for him, but, at times, you did so with an intentional hint of uncontrol, seeking to make him angry. You threw the ball with a little less care, causing Tsukishima to have to move quickly or stretch awkwardly.

Every time he missed, you were satisfied to see the slight frown on his face. In these small interactions, you found it amusing. You knew he was doing it for his own good; after all, getting better was the goal.

However, as you continued, Tsukishima’s lack of acknowledgement began to frustrate you. You tried hard to do a good job, and while his sarcastic comments were part of his personality, you longed for a simple “nice throw” or nod of approval.

Finally, throwing a ball that flew slightly higher than expected, you watched as Tsukishima prepared to spike it. However, the hit was inaccurate, and the ball went the wrong way. Seeing his reaction, a smile spread across your face.

“Well done, Suckyshima,” you commented mockingly, enjoying his obvious frustration. The angry expression on his face only grew. The blonde huffed and walked towards you with a determined stride, his gaze locked on yours.

“You think this is funny?” he questioned, his voice laced with disdain as he came closer, filling the space between you.

As he came closer, a wave of nervousness washed over you. The intensity of his gaze and the closeness of his tall figure made you blush slightly. You tried to formulate a response, but the words caught in your throat.

Tsukishima stopped just a few inches away from you, his golden eyes shining with a mix of irritation and amusement. “Can’t you talk now, Y/N?” he teased, a crooked smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you nervous?”

The sarcastic tone of his voice only made it harder for your mind to focus. “I…” you tried to counter, but the sudden playful brush of his hand against yours stopped you dead in your tracks.

He continued, clearly enjoying how nervous you were. “You seem to be at a loss for words. Does me being this close make you nervous?” He took a step forward, and as he did, you stopped breathing. Your eyes widened in surprise at his proximity, as he raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. “That’s cute,” he added in a tone that oozed confidence.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, unable to bear the tension any longer, turning around and walking quickly towards the technical team. You could feel your face boiling as your heart beat with an intensity that felt abnormal to you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Yachi asked with concern, who saw you pass by him just as you reached out to grab your bottle of water. His kind tone contrasted with the agitation you felt inside. “You’re pretty red, do you have a fever?”

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered nervously, turning your back on him as you tried to cover your flushed face with your hand. You needed a moment to calm down, and the water in the bottle seemed to be the immediate relief you were looking for. You drank quickly, trying to calm yourself down.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” Yachi insisted, noticing your nervousness. “I can help you with anything if you need it.”

“I’m really fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing, even though you knew your cheeks were still burning. You distanced yourself from Yachi a little, trying to regain your composure and focus on helping some of the other boys.

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wolverigrl · 7 months ago

Note

I'm going through a similar situation, so maybe it will help me having a little more confidence in myself. Also shout out to my bf always late. ✌🏻 (If you read this babe, I love you)

Hugh x younger reader (30s-50s). The reader traveled out of the US for her friend's b-day and asked Hugh to be her partner. He senses her nervousness and asks her why, she confesses that there will be other people who made fun of her/weren't real friends with her and he makes sure his girl has the perfect outfit and shows her how beautiful she is when she's wearing her self confidence. Everyone at the party looks at her realizing they were messing with the wrong girl.

The Right Kind of Confidence

Hugh Jackman x f!reader

A/N: You are all beautiful and enough. This world needs more of you, sweet souls. Never ever forget this! xx

Warnings: mentions of past bullying, maybe some angst, cheesy

Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

It all started with an innocent text. Or at least, that’s how I tried to rationalize it.

I’d been invited to my old friend Emily’s birthday party in London - she’d relocated there a few years back. It was supposed to be a fun, carefree getaway, a chance to reconnect with old friends. But when the invite arrived, nestled deep in the email chain, I couldn’t shake the creeping dread.

Along with me, there were others on the guest list - people I hadn’t seen in years. People who had once made high school and college more difficult than it needed to be. The thought of facing them again sent a cold shiver through me.

Still, I knew I couldn’t skip Emily’s big day. She’d been a real friend through thick and thin, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let the bad memories dictate how I lived my life.

So, I sent that text to Hugh, feeling a bit ridiculous.

Y/N: Hii❤️ I’ve got an invite to a birthday party in London. Any chance you’d want to come with me?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. It was the first time I’d asked him to travel for something personal, not work-related or vacation-focused. Hugh had always been the kind of guy who loved adventure, but I wasn’t sure if "be my emotional support at a party full of people who once bullied me" counted as an adventure.

My phone buzzed just minutes later. Hugh’s name lit up the screen.

HUGH: London? I’ve always got time for that. When do we leave? ;)❤️

The sigh of relief I let out could have been heard across the street. I grinned down at the phone, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the cup of coffee in my hands.

The days leading up to the trip passed in a blur of planning, nerves, and packing. Hugh handled everything with his usual calm, even helping me pick out a dress for the party - a gorgeous satin piece that made me feel like I was ready for the red carpet, even if my stomach was in knots over the thought of facing those old 'friends' again.

When the day finally came, Hugh and I met at the airport. His easygoing nature had a calming effect on me, even as I lugged my suitcase through the busy terminal, the excitement of the trip warring with the old insecurities gnawing at my mind.

"You ready for London?" Hugh asked, pulling me in for a quick hug before we went through security. He had a sparkle in his eyes, like the trip was going to be nothing but fun for him.

I tried to return his smile, but I could feel my nerves creeping back.

"Yeah, definitely. Just didn't thought of seeing some of the people again. It’s bringing back all kinds of old memories."

Hugh furrowed his brow, clearly picking up on the shift in my mood. He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"We don’t have to go, you know. If this is going to make you uncomfortable, just say the word."

I shook my head quickly, not wanting to back out now.

"No, I want to go. I just don’t want to spend the whole trip in my head worrying about it."

His expression softened, and he looked at me like he was trying to figure out exactly what to say to make me feel better.

"Well if anyone has a problem with you, they’re the ones who need to grow up."

I smiled, feeling some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. "Thanks, Hugh. I don’t know what I was thinking asking you to come along on this, but I’m really glad you did."

"Are you kidding? A trip to London with you? I’d never pass that up!" he said, his voice light but sincere.

By the time we landed in London, the nerves had faded somewhat, replaced by excitement. We checked into the hotel, and as I watched the city’s skyline from our room, I felt the promise of a good trip begin to settle in my bones. With Hugh here, maybe this would be the perfect opportunity to prove to myself that the past didn’t hold any power over me anymore.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of my dress for what felt like the hundredth time. It was a soft satin, flowing in all the right places, hugging my body just right. By any other measure, it was perfect. But tonight, I felt like it wasn’t enough - like I wasn’t enough.

"Everything okay in there?" Hugh’s deep voice filtered in from the hotel room’s balcony, where he was enjoying the sunset. I could hear the lilt of concern, even through the casual tone.

"Yeah!" I called back, trying to steady my nerves. "Just finishing up."

I stared at my reflection, hoping my face didn’t betray the knot of anxiety in my stomach. It had been years since I’d seen some of these people - people who had, at best, pretended to be friends. At worst, they’d made me the butt of their jokes when they thought I wasn’t looking.

They’d perfected the art of making someone feel invisible, but always in a way that you couldn’t call out.

Now, I was about to walk back into that. The only difference? This time, I wasn’t alone. I had Hugh by my side.

As much as I wanted to believe I’d outgrown that insecure version of myself, she was clawing her way back up to the surface, reminding me of every cruel laugh, every dismissive glance.

The door creaked as Hugh stepped inside, making his way toward me. I looked up at him in the mirror, catching his reflection as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an amused smile playing at his lips. He looked effortlessly handsome with his salt and pepper beard and his dark suit with the shirt open at the collar. Just the right mix of casual and polished.

The sight of him should have been enough to calm me down, but instead, my stomach twisted tighter.

"You look gorgeous." he said, pushing off from the door and coming up behind me, his hands settling gently on my hips. He pressed a soft kiss to my temple, his warm breath brushing against my skin.

"So why do you look like you’re about to faint?"

I let out a shaky laugh, avoiding his eyes in the mirror. "I'm fine, really. Just it’s been a while since I’ve seen these people."

He raised an eyebrow, his hands still resting firmly on my hips. "And that’s what’s bothering you?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down. There was no point in pretending with Hugh. He could always see through me.

"There are people coming tonight who weren’t exactly nice to me. A lot of them didn’t even pretend to be my friends."

I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. "I know I shouldn’t care, but it’s hard to shake that feeling. What if I’m just setting myself up for more of the same?"

Hugh’s grip tightened slightly on my hips, grounding me in the present.

"Hey.." he said softly, turning me around to face him. His gaze was steady, comforting.

"You’re not that person anymore. And they sure as hell don’t get to make you feel like you are."

I tried to smile, but the anxiety still gnawed at me.

"I know, I just… I want to walk in there feeling confident, like I belong."

He tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

"You’re worried about confidence? With the way you look right now?" His eyes traveled over me appreciatively, and for a second, the knot in my stomach loosened.

"Love, you look stunning! You’ve got nothing to prove."

I let out another nervous laugh, though this time it was more from the warmth his words brought.

"Easy for you to say. You’re Hugh Jackman. You were voted the sexiest man alive in 2008. You could wear a garbage bag and people would still be tripping over themselves to tell you how amazing you are."

He laughed, stepping closer, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek.

"Okay, first of all, I’d rock that garbage bag!" He winked, making me smile. "But second - this isn’t about them. This is about you."

I felt his thumb gently brush my cheek as his voice softened.

"I’ve seen you, y/n. I’ve seen the way you handle people, the way you carry yourself. You’ve got more strength in you than they ever gave you credit for. They were wrong to underestimate you."

I looked into his eyes, my heart starting to slow, the tension easing out of my shoulders.

"But what if they try making me feel like that person again?"

Hugh smiled, a slow, confident curve of his lips as he pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "They can try." he murmured. "But tonight, you’ve got something they never had - you know exactly who you are."

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, steadying the whirlwind in my chest. "And if that’s not enough." he added, his voice teasing now.

"I’ll be there, by your side, reminding them of what a mistake they made messing with you."

I laughed, the sound more genuine this time, and leaned into his chest.

"Thank you."

He kissed the top of my head before stepping back to get a better look at me.

"But there’s just one thing missing."

"What?"

He turned, heading toward his suitcase on the bed, and after a moment, he pulled out a small, velvet box. My heart skipped a beat, and I glanced at him, confused. We weren’t doing that. Were we?

Hugh chuckled when he saw my expression. "Relax. It’s not what you think."

He opened the box to reveal a delicate pair of earrings, simple yet elegant, catching the light in a way that made them sparkle like stars.

"These.." he said softly, stepping forward and taking one out. "Are for you.”

I blinked, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Hugh, they’re beautiful!"

He grinned as he gently hooked the earring onto my ear.

"I know you don’t need them to look beautiful, but consider them a little extra sparkle to remind you just how stunning you are - inside and out."

I swallowed the sudden emotion welling up inside me as he fastened the other earring. When he was done, I looked back in the mirror, and something had shifted. The dress that had felt just right now seemed to gleam with confidence. The earrings shimmered against my skin, catching the light, but it was Hugh’s words that had truly made me feel different.

I turned to face him, my heart swelling. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

Hugh smiled, his hands resting on my shoulders.

"It’s easy when you mean every word." He leaned down, his lips brushing mine in a tender kiss.

His words sent a warmth flooding through me, melting away the last of my doubts. I looked up into his eyes, and for a moment, I could see what he saw - a woman who had grown, who had strength. The kind of person who didn’t need the approval of people who had never truly known her in the first place.

"Now, come on." he said, stepping back with a grin. "Let’s get ready to knock ’em dead!"

As we arrived at the party, I could feel that familiar tightness creeping into my chest again, but Hugh’s hand was warm and steady around mine. The moment we walked in, eyes turned in our direction. I could feel the weight of their stares, but instead of shrinking away, I stood taller.

Conversations paused, glances exchanged. The people who had once dismissed me or whispered behind my back were now watching with something resembling disbelief, but not for the reasons they used to. They were seeing someone different now - someone who had grown, evolved, and walked into that room with self-assurance that couldn’t be ignored.

Hugh stayed close, his presence solid and reassuring. But it wasn’t him they were looking at.

It was me.

Emily rushed over, beaming from ear to ear, pulling me into a tight hug.

"You made it! And you brought Hugh!"

"Of course!" I smiled, hugging her back. "Happy birthday, Em!"

We navigated through the crowd, making small talk with the birthday girl, my real friends, and slowly, I realized, it didn’t matter what those other people thought. I felt good. I felt powerful. Hugh had been right - I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

I caught sight of one of the girls from the past - the one who had always been the ringleader of the snide comments, the icy looks. She smiled at me now, but it was different. She was clearly taken aback, unsure of how to react.

I smiled back, polite but distant, and kept walking, letting that version of me - the one they used to push around - fade away for good.

We spent the rest of the night laughing, and enjoying the party, but through it all, Hugh never left my side. Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflection, I saw it - not just the earrings, the dress, or even him at my side - but the confidence I had found within.

By the time we left, the air between us was lighter, free from the weight of those past insecurities. As we stepped out into the cool night, I turned to Hugh, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"You really did give me the best gift tonight." I said softly, looking up at him.

Hugh smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "What’s that?"

"You made me see myself the way you see me."

He kissed me then, slow and deep, his arms wrapping tighter around me as if to remind me that no matter what, I was enough. I always had been.

"You’re incredible, love." he whispered against my lips. "Never forget that."

And with him by my side, I knew I never would.

---------------------------------------------------

Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

#hugh jackman #wolverine #hugh jackman x you #marvel #x men #hugh #jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagines #fluff

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

Text

Series Masterlist

Tag List: @a-beaverhausen @ranisingsnew @ronswhoree @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog @yeaiamme2 @nataliewalker93

Compelling Tony Stark to plan the party was surprisingly easy.

Klaus had found that Tony was an exuberant, spirited and animated person who was much too into over indulgence so when he announced a birthday party for his dog, no one was shocked. His dog was old and a loved member of their family so it worked out and the irony was not lost on Klaus, knowing that James forcing his daughter to go to a birthday party for a dog after what he had just done to her dog was a cruel and painful thing that her father wouldn’t think twice about but that she definitely would.

Waiting was the only painful part of his plan and so he distracted himself by focusing on getting Y/n away from New York. Just from listening to her talk and watching her for the last few days he knew she loved rainy/cloudy weather, preferred having privacy, and wanted to be around nature. He had found a perfect house in Washington state that he knew she would love (and knew her father would have trouble finding) that was in the woods away from other people, in a rainy place with plenty of privacy and a maid and chef already hired to work the house. Not to mention he will have an army of Hybrids to help protect his mate as soon as he finds a wolf pack to turn (which in Washington won’t be hard). He bought everything she could possibly want and everything he thought she would like, especially as his Princess had absolutely no experience in sexual situations and he would be able to teach her everything he wanted. An inexperienced Princess with Daddy issues? She would be so eager to please she would give him anything he wants.

The party came about a week after him getting shot and he stayed off to the side away from as many people as possible unless Tony was “introducing him” to one of James’ friends, thinking it would be beneficial to have them compelled to like him at the very least.

From the moment she walked in, Klaus couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to rip that dress off of her, she was gorgeous and he found himself mesmerized, even as he felt the glare James Barnes had set on him as Klaus wasn’t exactly being subtle about him ogling his mate. James directed Y/n into one of the rooms with himself and his wife while he went to schmooze with the assholes and Klaus waited, watching his girl and watching James as both himself and his wife began drinking with Tony (as Klaus had compelled Tony to do to excess) before approaching Y/n.

She was sitting in the corner alone with the long forgotten “Birthday Boy” who was a white XL Pitbull named Ghost.

‘Mind if I join you?’ Klaus asked and her head jerked up in surprise.

‘Oh, sure, if you want. Though I’m sure you would be much more comfortable over there.’ She nodded her head over to a group of women by the bar. Parties for people like these men always have the option of women to take home, many of the men never getting married and staying “terminal bachelors” as if it makes them attractive. Klaus believes it just makes them stupid. You have everything except someone to love you and give you a family but you’re content with whores for the rest of your short life? At least Klaus had eternity to find Y/n, when you don’t have that kind of time and you waste it you are just stupid.

Y/n had noticed the girls that had been watching him for the better part of an hour with flirty faces, twirling their hair but he never gave them a second glance which Y/n noticed immediately. Growing up here, every man, even the married ones, stared at those sort of girls at every party but this attractive seemingly single guy isn’t…it struck her as odd but she brushed it off until now.

‘No, here is perfectly comfortable, thank you…I’m Klaus. It’s nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand and when Y/n moved to take it Klaus pulled her hand close and leaned down, pressing his lips to her knuckles, never taking his eyes off of hers.

‘It’s lovely to meet you Klaus. I’m Y/n Barnes, though I’m sure you knew that.’ He could instantly see that she had issue with her name when it came to meeting people.

‘I did know that, Tony told me earlier when you arrived, why are you so sure though?’

Her eyes widened and she stammered a moment. ‘B-because-Well because everyone does. People want to get on my fathers good side and they act like getting to know me first will achieve it. A little advice, just so you don’t fuck yourself on this one. My father hates men talking to me, so getting to know me first is a terrible plan, he’s going to hate you before he even meets you so you should probably just go introduce yourself to him.’

Klaus found the sad look in her eyes to be heart breaking. Her entire life she wasn’t allowed friends, boyfriends, interaction with anyone who didn’t work for her father and even at these parties, something she should enjoy if not just for the human interaction, all anyone and everyone wanted was to get to her father. Men flirted with her and made her feel desirable just to pull the rug from under her by wanting to get on her fathers good side.

‘Thank you, that was very kind advice. However I have no interest in your father, I was just hoping to sit with a lovely girl and have a drink…can I get you a drink?’ She looked stunned but shook it off before nodding her head.

‘Sure Klaus, that sounds nice.’ He moved to the bar and got her a glass of wine and him a bourbon before returning to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of the dog, wanting her to move closer at her own pace knowing it will make her feel more comfortable. ‘Thank you. Are you a new friend of Tony’s? I’ve never seen you here before, the faces here are always the same so it’s easy to spot a new one.’

‘Yes, we met a few weeks ago and he invited me to this, said he wanted me to meet some of his friends. I’m a painter you see, and Tony has bought some of my work, he knows some other men here who love art and might like my paintings.’ Y/n smiled at that, loving that he wasn’t another asshole just trying to use her.

‘Oh wow, I would love to see your work sometime. I admit I’m not much of a great judge but I enjoy seeing how people’s interpretations of art differs from others.’ Klaus couldn’t keep the smile from his face, loving her honest and intelligent answer before standing and holding out his hand for her to take and she did, following him out of the room and into the den to see the paintings that Tony had bought from Klaus as an explanation as to why he’s here. ‘My God, Klaus! These are amazing…I like seeing artwork that makes you feel something…they feel angry but in a sad way, like…like a grasping for control sort of way.’ He watched her face as she looked at his work and he loved that he could make something that could make her smile. ‘Oh God, I’ve offended you, I didn’t-‘

‘Not at all gorgeous, you’re quite right actually. Painting is a metaphor for control. Every choice is mine, the canvas, the color. As a child I had neither a sense of the world nor my place in it but art taught me that one’s vision can be achieved by sheer force of will…you have no control in your life either, do you?’ She looked back at him away from the painting and he instantly reached out to brush away the tears in her eyes, hesitating only a moment as she flinched before gently brushing her tears.

‘How long did it take? Finding your place in the world?’ She asked and he wished he could give her an answer.

‘I have no place in the world…however finding people that you love and being with them makes it all worth living with the little control that you can have-‘

‘Why can’t I have all of it? My father gets to have complete control of everything in his life, and I’m just…’ Klaus took Y/n’s hand and pulled her to sit on the desk, looking at her firmly.

‘Listen to me Princess, your fathers control is an illusion, it’s called money and it’s not real. It’s a social construct that we put way too much worth on and pretend it means we rule the world. Your father is a billionaire, right?’ She nodded. ‘And with that he has men with guns to enforce his rules and push his sense of control on everyone, but if that money was gone that control wouldn’t exist. It’s not real. I mean look at me, I have billions of dollars in money, artifacts, paintings, jewelry, but I don’t try and rule the world. I control my life and what’s important to me, that should be enough…you should be enough and if you’re not then…then he doesn’t deserve you Princess.’

Klaus was sure to leave out the part about him planning to have an army and control much like that of her father but it didn’t matter, because he would do that and still take care of and love her the way her father didn’t.

The next thing he knew Y/n had grabbed ahold of his jacket and pulled him down to press her lips against his. He couldn’t say he was surprised, or displeased, resting his hands on her waist and taking control of the needy kiss. For having no experience she was actually quite good at it and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her against his chest.

Just as Klaus was about to trail his hands down to her skirt they both jumped, hearing her name being shouted. ‘Hide!’ She whispered harshly.

‘Y/n-‘

‘No time for arguments, I’m not letting you get shot! Hide! Now!’ Y/n pushed him behind the desk and he sighed, crawling under it after pulling her in to kiss him one final time.

‘This isn’t over Princess, you’re mine now.’ He warned, enjoying the blush on her cheeks before she moved back around the desk to the wall where she looked back up at the painting before the door opened and Klaus could hear Steve’s voice.

‘Did you not hear me calling you?’ He questioned, exasperated.

‘No, I heard you, I just didn’t care.’ It took everything in Klaus in that moment not to laugh.

‘Y/n-‘

‘I would appreciate it if we kept all speaking to a minimum of what is absolutely necessary. Why did you come looking for me?’

‘Your parents are leaving, time to go home.’

‘Fine. Let’s go then, I want a shower and my bed.’ The door shut a moment later and Klaus moved quickly, crawling out and returning to the party before anyone suspected anything, watching the family leave.

He was happy to finally know what her lips tasted like on his own but it wasn’t enough. He would have her.

Tonight.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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anonmousegosqueak · 15 days ago

Text

I don't need much, I just need-

Gaz and Red relaxing at the park.

It had been a long mission. It was pure luck they even all survived, especially Soap. God- the tunnels? If the captain had been a hair slower than that cunt Makarov would have put a bullet through Soap's skull.

But that's all over now.

Makarov is dead.

The world is just that little bit safer.

Everyone was kicked out pretty quickly. Gaz had gotten a pat on the back, a quick 'g'job' from Price, and then he was shoving Red into the car to head back to their flat. Soap had headed out the earliest, dragging Ghost right along after him, and Price had confirmed he was also taking leave just a few days later.

The trip was honestly plenty of fun by itself. Not exactly restful, but it definitely helped put their minds off the most recent events. Singing along to some trashy pop together at an obnoxiously loud volume really did help.

They had spent the first few days just relaxing and catching up on sleep.

Kyle had called Soap, sent Price a few cute pictures of Red as well. As much as he tried to act like it was for the others, it was more for him than anything else. He likes keeping up with the others- knowing that they were alive and well. Besides, it gave him an excuse to make sure he didn't get too soft while on leave.

Pretty soon though, the comfort wore off.

They were happy, sure, but Red was getting visibly jumpy and wired from being cooped up. They'd never liked staying indoors for long, much preferring some fresh air rather than rotting inside all day. And honestly? Gaz wasn't much better off. He needed to head to the gym, to work off some of that energy through exercise. It'd always been something that helped him relax, just turning off his mind and lifting weights or running on the treadmill. Some found it tiring to go to the gym every day, he found the opposite to be true.

So they made a plan.

Every morning, before things got too crowded, they'd hop in the car and head to the park for a nice run outside. Red got their nature, Kyle got his exercise. And they both got each other's company.

Sometimes Red wouldn't run the whole time, choosing to instead stay back by the pond and waiting for Kyle. The latter only let them stay behind after taking their lighter to make sure they didn't do anything illegal.

Today though, Kyle had something planned.

"wha's that?"

He had tossed an extra bag into the car, having packed it earlier while Red was still in the shower.

"nothin', just been meaning to put it in the car. Y' got your shoes on?"

"mhm."

The pair made it to the park, the morning air still crisp and light. Kyle didn't waste any time before dragging Red away from the path and twords the lake.

Despite their confusion (and very loudly informing him about this fact), Kyle didn't say anything. He simply came to a stop, pulled out a blanket, and then sat Red down.

Oh.

He didn't wait for much longer, taking out the pairs morning breakfast and setting it across the blanket with such care. It's clear he had been planning this for a while, easy to transport food items, tea in thermoses, he even brought some frozen peas to feed the ducks!

And to tie it all together, a flower placed in Red's hair.

Red didn't say much else, too focused on the warm feeling in their chest. Kyle didn't push them either, more focused on ripping up one of the sandwiches into bite sized pieces so he could feed them.

The air wasn't so cold anymore, full of a different feeling.

Home.

Haha. OC go brrr. Not proofread (very little of my stuff is lmao) because I'm about to pass out.

#call of duty #cod #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #cod oc #gaz x oc #red cod #john soap mactavish #john price #cod fluff

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8isfatesunshine · 21 days ago

Text

Caffeine and Confessions (idol!Bangchan x Fan!reader)

Summary: a nice day at your favourite coffee shop turns into a conversation with the person you least expected to have one with. Reader has an interaction with Bangchan and gets to know him, will this lead to something she’s always hoped for.

Warnings: none at the moment just pure fluff.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans fills my lungs as I push open the door to the quaint café tucked away in the heart of Seoul. The gentle chime of bells announces my arrival, but I'm too focused on finding my usual spot – the cozy corner table beside the window where morning light streams through delicate curtains.

My hands cradle the warmth of my vanilla latte as I try to focus on my laptop screen. The café is relatively empty this early, save for a few dedicated regulars and...

Wait.

My heart skips a beat when the door chimes again. Looking up, I see him – Bang Chan. His dark brown hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo effect that makes him look almost ethereal. He's wearing a simple black hoodie, but somehow he makes it look like it belongs on a runway.

I quickly look back down at my screen, pretending I hadn't just been staring. But fate has other plans today. The universe must be playing some cosmic joke because there are plenty of empty tables, yet he's walking straight toward mine.

"Is this seat taken?" His voice is gentle, accompanied by a dimpled smile that makes my stomach do somersaults. His Australian accent adds an unexpected warmth to his words.

"No, go ahead," I manage to say, hoping my voice doesn't betray the thundering in my chest.

He sets down his iced americano and laptop, and I catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle mix of vanilla and something woodsy. "I've seen you here before," he says, looking at me with genuine interest. "You're always in this exact spot."

I can't help but smile, surprised he's noticed. "It has the best lighting for writing," I explain, then immediately want to sink into my chair. Of course, I had to mention writing – now he'll probably ask what I'm working on, and I can't exactly tell him I write fanfiction.

But Chan's eyes light up. "You're a writer? That's amazing! I'm actually working on some lyrics myself." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've seen countless times in videos but feels surreal to witness in person.

The conversation flows naturally after that, like we've known each other for years rather than minutes. We talk about music, our creative processes, and our shared love for this little café. He doesn't act like the famous idol he is – he's just Chan, the boy with the kindest eyes I've ever seen and a laugh that makes my heart feel like it's dancing.

Hours pass like minutes, and before I know it, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink through the café window. My coffee has long gone cold, forgotten in favor of our conversation.

"I have to head to the studio," he says finally, looking genuinely disappointed. "But... would it be okay if I joined you again tomorrow? Same time, same place?"

I try to keep my voice steady as I reply, "I'd like that."

As he packs up his things, he pauses. "You know, I've been coming here hoping to run into you for weeks. I just never had the courage to say hello until today."

He leaves me there, my heart soaring and my mind already counting down the hours until tomorrow. Maybe some fairytales do come true, even in the most ordinary of coffee shops.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Authors note: I hope this was a good first chapter let me know if I should continue this as a series!! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list🩷

Tag list:

@milkteabinniechan

#stray kids #bang chan #fluff #skz fanfic #skz fluff #bangchan fluff

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prey-4-me · 2 years ago

Note

Whatever writing format works, reader is a hunter or warrior or whatever in some way or another and Feral got curious and is trying to “study” get just a bit closer to you each day and eventually tries courting you. Please and thank youuu 🫶🫶

Thx for this request! Hope you like it.

Feral predator x reader, smut lite, fluff

***

What were you doing? He studied you closely, watching you clean and reassemble some kind of… he thought oomans called them ‘rifles.’ What a strange ooman word. He shifted his weight, sitting down on the tree limb he’d been squatting on.

He’d watched you take the buck down with a single shot earlier in the day. It was an impressive animal and from an impressive distance. Then he’d observed you field dress and take your meat and trophy antlers with you. You appeared to be very strong for your size; although much smaller than him, you had packed out a fair amount of the deer.

Now you were in your domicile, some kind of log structure. It looked warm and cozy on the inside; a fire burned and cast a pleasant light onto everything. You turned off your harsh overhead lamp and the mood increased. He watched you curl up on the sofa and drink something steaming. Then apparently fall asleep. He grunted. Time to go; he’d been here far too long.

***

Today you seemed to be focusing on relaxing. You had chopped some wood in the morning, piquing his curiosity. He had camped near your home, with plans to follow you for a few days. Some scientific observation, he reasoned.

Drawn by the loud, echoing bangs, he was amused with how your thin arms swung the axe. You were very effective, but he still marveled at how strong you were despite your size.

Now you were swimming in a calm stream, splashing and dunking your head periodically. Were you cleaning yourself or just having a good time? He couldn’t tell. He studied your body when you finally got out of the water and laid out on the shore in the sun. Similar to a Yautja… interesting. He pushed the thoughts that came with that realization to the side.

Finally you dressed and headed back to your domicile. He snuck behind you, looking at your slight footprints and hearing you breathing and walking loudly through the forest. Ooomas were quite loud. It was endearing.

When you reached your log shelter, you went inside. He scaled the tree he’d become accustomed to sitting in over the past couple of days.

You fixed yourself a hearty looking meal and came outside onto the deck. Sitting down in a wooden chair, you put your plate on your lap and ate, looking out at the forest that surrounded you. You seemed content.

He tilted his head, wondering…

*** You were tracking something big. The weird thing was, you weren’t quite sure what it was. At first you had thought bear, but the path you were tracking wasn’t quite right. It also seemed… off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it didn’t feel natural. You entered a small glade. The tracks abruptly stopped. What the hell. How could something this big just disappear? Suspicious, you turned in place slowly, eyeing the spaces in between the trees. You felt tricked. But by what? And for what reason?

You stopped abruptly. Something was shimmering in the forest. You couldn’t think what it might be - you had never seen anything like it. Suddenly, it moved. It appeared to be… moving towards you? Was it a cloud of shimmery gnats? No. It was something unnatural. You started to think about El Charro Negro and yelled, pointing your hunting rifle at it. It continued to advance, more and more taking the shape of a tall, broad humanoid. You stepped backwards quickly, still aiming at it, for whatever good it would do.

It walked into the glade, out of the shade. Shimmering and wavering in front of you, you could almost make something out. It appeared to stand in front of you unmoving. Waiting?

You slowly lowered your weapon. You sensed it was useless against… whatever this was. Suddenly it emitted a soft clicking noise. After a couple seconds’ pause, it repeated the same pattern of clicks. Confused, you listened closely. It repeated the clicks a third time, slightly slower.

“Are… are you a ghost?” You whispered.

It chuckled. You gasped; it was undeniably a humanlike laugh.

You stuttered, “Wh-wh-what are you?” It grumbled something, shimmering in the sun. You squinted at it. You could almost see…

“Hi.”

Stunned, your mouth fell open. Did this cloud of shimmer just greet you?

It grumbled again, then said softly in a gruff, deep voice, “Hello, ooman.”

Your rifled slid from your hands. Terrified, you thought of running. Suddenly it shimmered and wavered more than usual; then it stopped. Before you stood a 7 foot tall…? Humanlike… creature? You babbled insane thoughts out loud about spirits and aliens and schizophrenia.

“You’re nnnnot crazy…” It took a small step towards you. You tried to back pedal away but your legs were locked in place. It stopped advancing on you and put a large hand over its broad chest. “I mean you nnno harm.”

“W-what are you?” You squeaked out, nearly unaware you were talking aloud.

“I’m… an alien like you say.”

“Like from space?” You asked stupidly.

It grumbled a laugh. “Yes. Space.” It motioned to you to come towards it.

“Come. I will show you something.”

You still couldn’t move. It grumbled softly, tilting its masked face.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“What do you want?” Your entire body was trembling.

“To show you something.” It appeared to shrug.

You were rooted in place out of sheer terror. It seemed to sense this. It slowly approached you, both hands going to its head. When it was a few steps away, it stopped and pulled some tubes out of its mask. The mask hissed and clicked. It pulled the mask away from its head. Lowering it, it tilted its head and looked at you with soft eyes.

Shocked, you stared back into its golden, very humanlike eyes. It slowly clicked its mandibles and spoke quietly, “Don’t be afraid. I just wanted to…” it paused to shrug, “…say hi.”

You laughed a bit despite your fear. “An alien just wanted to say hi to me?” It grumbled in its own language, then nodded, “Yes. You are… impressive hunter. Now. Let me show you this thing.” It turned from you and strode away, its skin slightly shiny in the sun.

Suddenly unrooted, you picked up your gun and ran after it, calling, “But what? How far? Where do you come from?”

It laughed harshly, “So many questions.”

You calmed yourself as you followed a few steps behind it, single file.

“I’m from many solar systems away. Nnnow, don’t ruin the thing. Just come,” it grumbled amiably over its shoulder.

You followed along, wondering why you were obeying. Shouldn’t you be running? But why? It seemed friendly enough. It was speaking to you in your language. But what could it possibly want to show you?

After a short distance travelled in silence, it stopped and turned to you. “Here.” It pointed upwards. In it hung the Thing it apparently wanted to show you.

“A— a stag?” You stumbled over your words, “A huge one! Those antlers… wow.” You looked into the alien’s eyes. “Why show me this?” ”I saw your hunt the other day. It was a good hunt. This is my hunt.” It cut a cord and lowered the deer to the ground.

You marveled at the antlers. But what about the rest of it? Would it go to waste?

“I am taking it all back to camp. You want to eat with me?” It invited, nudging your upper arm gently.

“S-sure, but how do we get it back?”

“Mm. I will carry it.”

“All of it?” You were dubious.

Gruffly laughing, it bent and lifted the deer in its arms. Carefully putting it over its shoulders, it grumbled softly, “Come with me.”

***

You picked the plants it had instructed you to. Once you had an armful, you returned to its neatly kept camp. It was roasting a large portion of the deer while it cleaned the skull, careful of the trophy-sized antlers.

“What do I do with these weeds?” ”Weed? What is ‘weed?’ That is food… come, we will boil it and have it with the deer. Meat and something green, like mother says.”

You laughed softly, surprised by its talk of family and balanced diets. It grabbed some of your armful and stared to pull the leaves off the prickly stalks. “Come. Like this.”

You copied it, throwing the leaves into a little metal pot it had half filled with water.

“You are a fine hunter. You hunt often?” It asked casually, stripping a stalk of its greenery.

“When I can. I like to offset my food costs with it. And my neighbors too. Plus, being in nature feels so right. You know?” It grunted, nodding. “Yes.”

“You uh, come to Earth often?” You felt silly asking, but in this rare case it was a perfectly normal question.

“Nnno. It is far away and does nnnot have the best prey to hunt. But sometimes it is fun to visit a far away place.”

You smiled to yourself. This meal would be one of your more enjoyable ones in recent history.

*** You sat back, satisfied. The weeds had ended up being a delicious side to the gamey deer meat. Impressed, you asked how your dinner host had known.

“I read about the plants to eat here so I could try the local food.” It was picking deer out of its teeth with a twig.

You smiled again. “Have you ever tried Earth ‘junk food?’ I have some back at my cabin. We should eat that for a snack later.”

“Cabin? Is that your tree house?” You smiled wider, “Yeah, my house made of trees.” It grumbled, seeming pleased. Then it said in ooman, “Yes. I would like to try your garbage food.”

You laughed, “It’s just ‘junk food.’ Although I guess you could consider it ‘garbage food’ after this meal we just had.”

It stood suddenly. Taking a few large steps, it sat down next to you. Reaching behind you, it grabbed a log and placed it on the fire. Poking it, it grumbled softly, “You are… very… nnnice to look at.”

You blinked in surprise at the compliment. It turned its head, its golden eyes gentle.

“Th-thank you,” you didn’t know what else to say. It leaned back, “I saw you bathing the other day.” You got hot. When you were totally nude?

It continued, “Our kind… looks like that too.”

“Oh.” You were still wondering if it meant when you had taken your little bath, splashing and having fun.

“So…” It fluidly moved towards you. “I’m called Bakuub. It means straight spear. You are called?”

Shocked, you uttered your name. ”I like it.” It leaned into your space. It smelled like herbs and earthy, fresh soil. It touched your shirt. “I like this color.”

“Th-thanks,” you stuttered, feeling strange. Why was it complimenting you so much? It released your shirt and leaned back. “Do you like the deer head?” It nodded at the skull, with its magnificent antlers.

“Oh, yeah. It’s really very impressive.” “It is for you.” Your eyes widened, “Huh?”

Bakuub winked at you. “It is a nnuptial gift. I read about it on Earth; the male is supposed to give the female something nnnice to… you know. Express interest.” He clicked at you.

“Omigosh, uh, thank you,” you straightened your spine. An alien was… flirting with you? He waited for you to continue. After a second, you said weakly, “So… you wanna go back to my… treehouse now? We could, uh. You know. Snack. And then, it’ll be late and and and— time to go to bed, and…”

Bakuub grabbed your hip and pulled you into his lap. He nuzzled his head into you, his dreads falling forward. You inhaled; he smelled wonderful. “We don’t need a bed to ‘go to bed,’” he crooned.

Your emotions scrambled in your mind. You leaned towards Bakuub, running your hands up his muscled torso. His skin was smooth and warm.

“I- I mean, that’s true…” you trailed off as your eyes met with his. You felt yourself leaning closer until you were kissing his cheek softly. He was watching you with hooded eyes. You put your hands on either of his shoulders and readjusted so that you were straddling him. Bakubb purred.

Shocked, you stopped moving and looked at him. He continued purring, a rich loud sound that made you shiver down to your bones. Instinctively, you rocked your hips against his. You felt his very human-like anatomy and groaned. His purring grew louder as he grumbled, “This is nnnnice…” His powerful hands gently gripped your waist as you ground down on him. Growing bolder, you kissed the side of his face again.

“That’s nnnice too…” Bakuub murmured, voice soft and rumbling. His fingers pulled at your clothing suggestively as he rumbled, “Let me show you some other nnnice things…”

“Like what?” You teased playfully, your hips moving.

“Oh, I can think of a few things I would like to show you.” His purring intensified. Giddy, you let him gently push you down onto his blanket.

Nature carried on around you as the two of you carried on long into the night, slowly unwrapping each other.

#predator x human #predator x reader #yautja x human #yautja x reader #feral predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x you #yautja thirst #predator fanfiction

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