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oatmealwrites · 20 days ago

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Sports Car!

CFO! Nanami Kento x F! Reader

Based on the song Sports car by Tate McRae

jjk masterlist | regular masterlist

Synopsis: Visiting a luxury resort for your friend's bachelorette party, you notice a mystery man in the lobby who almost seems to... recognize you? You're certain you've never seen him before, but he seems to notice you right away. Well, it's fine! It's supposed to be a fun girls trip anyways, so who cares if you entertain the attention from him for a bit? Besides, he might even take you for a ride. ;)

Tags: pining down bad Kento [my fav], scheming SatoSugu, french kissing, romantic fluff, miscommunication, road head, slight facial, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, missionary, p in v, slight breeding kink!, jealous nanami, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, creampie, soft and domestic ending, p0rn w plot essentially, 18+, MDNI

a/n @ the end; this is so self indulgent

not proofread!

WC: 12k [IM SORRY, lowkey slow burn??]

~~~~~~~

The lobby of the hotel is nicer than the photos you had seen online as you tug your small carry-on suitcase across the granite tiled floors. There’s chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a small team of employees assisting with luggage and valet, and nearly all the other visitors are dressed in expensive suits and tailored clothing.

You let out a low whistle and follow your group to reception while mentally distancing yourself from the state of your bank account after this trip. The entire budget was far too expensive for you, but the occasion for celebration demanded you absolutely had to be in attendance.

“Ok, you three are on floor 8, and the rest of us are on 7..” Shoko addresses the group while passing out room cards. “Lets have 90 minutes to drop our things off and get dressed for the first event. Everyone in the lobby with your bathing suits no later than 3:15!”

Maki and Nobara snatch the key and elbow you in the side to keep up the pace as an employee takes your luggage and ensures it’ll be delivered shortly– another service tip slowly chipping away at your finances. The three of you walk to the elevator and awe at the decorations in the lobby while sidestepping to avoid the large crowds of people exiting the exhibition hall for an assumed lunch break.

You nudge Nobara and keep your eyes on the mass of people trickling from the room. “What do you think is going on?”

“Business conference.” Maki answers instead, pointing to a small sign for what seems like a financial law themed seminar.

Nobara lets out a low whistle of “booooring” when a man dressed in a tailored khaki suit turns around at the noise.

And he’s fine as hell.

He’s maybe just over 6 feet tall and well built with blonde hair perfectly styled and gentle signs of exhaustion on his face; maybe a few years older than you, but definitely more experienced.

There’s an expression of disinterest and slight agitation when his eyes scan the crowd in search of the offhand comment until they land right on you; a look of nearly recognition. It’s a brief shiver that shoots down your spine while Maki shoves Nobara for being so careless as to insult the very conference these people were probably paying an abysmal amount of money to attend in the first place.

A trance in your eyes as you can’t seem to break the stare between you and mystery man, Nobara shakes your shoulder slightly as you find yourself completely glued to the floor. He pivots slightly, as if to move closer, with his mouth open partially to speak, when the rest of your group catches up to the elevator shafts.

“You guys better not run late! 3:15 is the cut off if we’re gonna have time for this evening’s dinner.” Utahime hands Yuki her room key and turns to you. “And please remember the rule about wearing white.”

Moments before you’re whisked away, it seems another group of men had caught his attention, laughing and ushering him to the next event location with his blonde hair sandwiched between wisps of white and black. Before you can protest her accusation, you’re being shuffled into the elevator with the group of girls and can only get a few glimpses at the man before the doors shut.

****

The 3:15 event is a pre-game at the resort pool bar filled with lounging next to the water, a poor attempt at volleyball, and enough strawberry daiquiris to make you nauseous from the alcohol and sugar content. Half of the girls take breaks to sit in the sun and tan, occasionally getting glimpses at the men that also linger around the pool, while you sit in the water on the pool stairs while Nobara floats idly beside you in a tube.

“Can’t believe Shoko was able to organize all of this…”

Nobara keeps her face upwards at the sun with her eyes shut behind a pair of sunglasses. “Hmmm, being the maid of honor isn’t easy work.”

“I’m really grateful for it, I don’t know if I could've planned something like this.”

Yuki slams the inflatable volleyball down against the water and laughs while Utahime whines at the chlorine now soaking her hair; Mai and Maki lounge side by side laughing at the scene unfold. The sun is intense, and despite sitting in the water, you feel more dehydrated than ever before.

With a soft sigh, you rise from the water and gently kick Nobara’s tube to float further away as light snores can be heard leaving her lips as she relaxes further. The concrete by the pool is hot, and you jump from shade to shade until you reach your chair to towel off.

“Leaving? We still have more time until we need to get ready for dinner, you know.”

You turn to Maki and wrap the towel around your chest before slipping on your sandals, “Yea, just gonna run inside to grab an extra bottle of sunscreen. Don’t want Nobara to burn if she’s gonna be baking in the sun.”

Maki knows that other people definitely already have a spare bottle poolside, but she understands your silent need for a moment alone and doesn’t question it. You grab the room card from your tote and shuffle back towards the lobby with a shiver as the AC chills your damp skin.

Soft piano music now flows steadily through the large room as the waitstaff power-walk across the floor with preparations for the resort’s attached restaurant. Curious, and with nothing better to do, you walk over to the entrance and watch the way everyone sets white table cloths and candles on each table in preparation for the dinner rush.

The restaurant has a long bar in the back against the wall, while tables are scattered across the floor all the way to the patio entrance. While the doors are shut for now, at evening time they open up to a large wooden deck that provides a beautiful view of the ocean only steps away from the hotel doors. A large wooden table sits near the patio doors; a floral bouquet, balloons, and candles litter the top as the chairs are draped in white cloth in celebration.

“I take it you’re not here for the seminar.”

“!!”

You flinch and spin around, hand still clutching the towel, to find a mop of white hair similar to the one you had spotted in the lobby earlier. Clear, celeste blue eyes peer down at you while an intrigued and wolfish smile spreads across the man’s lips. He laughs at your reaction, but makes no effort to move from his position as he patiently waits for an answer.

“Oh, uh… no, I’m not.”

He smiles a bit more and looks back at the working staff while waiting silently for elaboration.

“It’s a bachelorette party.”

The man turns back to you, gently guiding your hips to make room for employees to carry in crates of vegetables to the kitchen, and cheekily shoots you another smirk. “Ohhh, sounds fun.”

He’s stereotypically handsome, with strong facial features, tall toned legs, and the air of confidence that leaves you completely at his beck and call. But he’s not him, he’s not the mystery man you saw earlier.

You shrug and back up to the lobby with the white haired man idly keeping pace beside you with his lanky legs making up the distance in double time. Maybe it’s wrong, but you can’t help but peer around the lobby just in case the other gentleman might be nearby.

“Looking for someone, sweets?”

Pausing, you clench the towel tighter and roll your eyes slightly at the pet name, but don’t bother reprimanding him for the way it sounded so natural to leave his lips. “Just my friends.”

He looks around the lobby, his hands in his pockets, when you finally take in the fact he had changed clothes from the suit you saw him in earlier. Instead of slacks and a button-up, he adorns slim-fit athletic trousers and a pale blue polo.

“Right, well I don’t think they’re here….?” He edges on, waiting for your name.

Maybe if you were home, back at your menial job at a dingy bar your friends always drag you to, you wouldn’t bother giving it, but this time you do; he smiles at it and puts out his hand for you to shake.

“Lovely to meet you��”

“Hey, Satoru! What are you doing..?”

You spin around with the man, Satoru, flipping from your handshake to a position with his hand wrapped around your shoulder blades. The voice radiates from the same man with long black hair you also saw in the lobby; the actual man you’ve been wondering about is still nowhere in sight.

“Hey Suguru, just chatting with my friend.”

The other gentleman, Suguru, is also dressed in put-together alethic wear and raises an eyebrow at Satoru before dragging his eyes across you. Sandals on your feet and pool towel still wrapped around you, it’s obvious that Satoru had bumped into you rather than actually been hanging out.

Suguru doesn’t question it though, he offers an introduction and gives Satoru a slight nudge with an eyebrow raise, before walking towards the large entrance doors of the lobby. Despite his hand no longer on your back, you feel yourself being guided to follow suit, as if you were meant to join this strange group.

“Kento’s gonna be mad if we’re late to golf with Yaga. You know how that old guy is about deadlines.”

Satoru whines playfully at his friend and shrugs. “I win every game regardless, so why do we even bother playing in the first place?”

“It’s about the principle, you know that.” Suguru smoothly responds as the three of you walk to the valet stand right in front of the lobby.

You follow suit, walking beside the men and taking in the way they acted like a game of business golf with an exorbitant fee was the same as getting a coffee from the convenience store. The three of you make it to the valet stand where Satoru huffs about the fact ‘he’s not even here yet’ before Suguru spins around and finally acknowledges you once again.

“I take it you’re not playing with us this time? Unfortunately, I don’t think a bikini is allowed on the green.”

You pause, the slight drip of chlorine still steadily falling from your skin and you sheepishly shrink back slightly from the mention that you had no real connection to these men in the first place. “Oh, uh.. No I’m not.”

“A real shame if you ask me.” Satoru dramatically responds, only looking back towards the pull-up area when a dark gray Mercedes [AMG GT coupé] parks in the front.

Any voice in your throat is cut short as the car remains idling while the driver opens the door and slides out. Standing upright, sleeked and well groomed blonde hair pops into view as the man gracefully declines valet and slips off his sunglasses.

It’s hard not to stare; the biceps of his arms stretching the short sleeves of his polo while sturdy thighs are pushing the thread limits of his golf trousers. He fills out everything in all the right places.

Suguru steps down the front stairs to greet the man while Satoru lets out a snort at your obvious stare and gives a quick elbow to your ribs. Another young man slinks out of the back seat spot and runs around to pop open the trunk of the car.

“Nanamin, did you want to put anything else back here?”

The blond man, who you thought was Kento(?), doesn’t pause at the nickname and instead shakes his head. “That’s alright Itadori, you know we will have caddies on the course, right?”

Wait.. Itadori? Where have you heard that name from before….?

A smile akin to blinding sunlight emits from the younger man’s mouth as he excitedly shuts the hatch and nods eagerly. Itadori remains by the idling car, but looks up to assess the woman his seniors are talking to; the expression of borderline recognition crosses his face as it did yours.

“Nice of you to bring your intern, Kento.” Suguru comments, approaching him.

“He’s good at his job…and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Satoru lets out a wolfish giggle and pushes you slightly forward to get the man who you’ve been searching for. “Well maybe we can use a cart girl for the next game.”

Kento looks up from his small talk with Suguru and his eyes widen slightly at seeing you once again, though this time up close…. and in a pool towel. He stutters slightly before raising a stern eyebrow to the pair of cackling white and blacked hair men.

“You two–”

“she’s our friend!” Satoru slinks a casual arm around your shoulder, though the act isn’t as flirty as he’s dramatically portraying it to be. “Figured it would be good for everyone to meet, especially if we’re gonna keep bumping into each other for the weekend.”

Kento scowls at him but turns to you with a calm expression. “I’m very sorry for any trouble these two have caused you. If it’s an issue, I can escort you to the concierge desk to report a proper claim against them–”

“HEY!” Satoru interjects. “She’s here for a wedding party and we’re here for a boring conference at the same time. What’s the harm if we make friends with our co-hostages at this place??”

A 5-star ocean-front resort is your last definition of a hostage by any definition of the phrase, but the theatrics Satoru puts on eases the tension regardless. Suguru laughs and places a steady hand on Kento’s stiffened shoulder before walking over to Yuji to claim the shotgun seat of the car.

“I’m alright.” You finally speak up. “Really, it’s nice to meet other people here too.”

Kento keeps his gaze sternly on Satoru, but eventually eases up to reassess your expression. He keeps his vision on your face, taking in several details, before coughing slightly and nodding once. “Alright then, it’s nice to formally meet you–”

“Ah, too professional!” Satoru pushes you forward slightly and gives a harder smack to the chiseled back of Kento with a cheesy grin. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a little stiff right now.”

The blonde shoots his head in his companion’s direction before the horn of his idling car honks with Suguru rolling the window down. “We’re gonna be even more late! Stop jerking each other off and let’s go!”

“Yea! What he said!” Yuji echoes in the back.

Both men scoff lightly and offer a ‘goodbye’ while walking down to the car; still standing in the towel, you take a slight step forward and raise a hand before they disappear inside. “See you later… Satoru, Suguru,....Kento!”

His name fell naturally from your lips, and you can swear there was maybe the ghost of a blush on his cheeks as he waves back and slides into the driver’s seat. From Suguru’s still open window, you can hear Satoru goading his name was the one you called first, while Itadori is convinced he’s seen you somewhere before.

From the angle of his side-view mirror, you can see his gaze linger on your figure before the sports car engine roars as it leaves the hotel parking lot.

****

“Did you move my hair straightener…? I swear I just had it–” The words die on Maki’s lips as Nobara peers out of the bathroom with said device pinching a section of hair. “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking so long! Isn’t your hair naturally straight already?”

Nobara waves her off and continues the finishing touches while Maki stands impatiently in the doorway waiting for her to finish; you shimmy on the delicate pair of heels and test walk a few times to see how badly they hurt.

Deciding the pain isn’t too intense, as you guys would be sitting down to eat anyways, you move to the large standing mirror in the suite to smooth out any wrinkles of your satin mini-dress. The alarm clock on the desk besides you reads 8 minutes before the reservation time is set for.

“Shoko is going to kill us if we aren’t in the lobby on time~” You sing out to the two bickering girls as Maki pries the straightener from Nobara and rapidly adjusts her hair. The latter woman waves you off and slides into her heeled sandals before scrolling through her phone idly.

“Huh, Itadori’s here too?”

You spin around at the name and stand beside her to peer at her social media. On the ‘close friend’s only’ story is a partial selfie with a variety of other men in the background chatting and lining up their next shot on the green. A few guys are unfamiliar to you, but the heads of white, long black, and sleek blonde hair immediately catch your gaze.

“Huuh? Aren’t those the guys you were talking to?”

You didn’t even hear Maki walk back into the room but Nobara shoots you both a confused glance. Combing her straightened hair into a sleek ponytail, Maki shoots you a side glance. “You took too long to get the sunscreen earlier so I was gonna check up on you… but once I saw you with those meatheads I figured it would be best to give you some space.”

A hot blush and panic spreads across your face while Nobara makes fake vomit sounds and retches beside you. “Ewwww! We had a rule of ‘no men!’ for this trip, and you go hang out with Itadori?!”

“What? No!... he was just there when I was already talking to Kento.”

“Kento?!” They scream at the same time.

You raise a hand to drag across your face, but pause at the threat of ruining the makeup you spent the last 35 minutes doing. “There were a group of guys there for the financial seminar… Satoru, Suguru, and Kento…”

Maki and Nobara stare at you incredulously before peering back down at the phone. Feeling left out you nudge them both. “Ok, and now can you two explain how the hell you know them??”

Nobara taps through his story a few times more and holds up a better photo of Itadori, “We went to high school together and he didn’t transfer into our undergrad university until like junior year. I’ve mentioned him a few times, but you two were in different majors so you probably never bumped into him.”

Maki leans forward and points to Satoru and Suguru, “Mmm I’m pretty sure these guys have beef with like my uncle or something. A rivaling firm for whatever shady business schemes they’re all roped into.”

You lean in and watch each photo tap by, your gaze lingering on the shamelessly glazed photos Itaodri pridefully posts about his mentor. The sweat dripping from his temple as he swings his club, the casual steering of the golf cart, and the way he flexes his thighs juuuust a little before lining his next shot.

“She’s totally gone.”

“Hey.” You blink back at the two of them. “Anything on the mystery blonde man? Suguru mentioned something about Itadori being his intern.”

Nobara taps her chin once but can’t seem to come up with an answer. “Can’t say for sure. I’ll just text Megumi and have him fill me in–.”

“Oh shit, it’s 7:20!” Maki scurries for her shoes while you leap across one of the beds to grab your purse and Nobara dives for her lipstick on the bathroom counter.

The three of you run for the elevator, ignoring the tourists and other visitors in the hallways, and pant when you reach the resort restaurant entrance to an annoyed Utahime. She has her arms folded but lets you all off with a sigh and a stern look before guiding you to the table where the rest of the girls sit languidly chatting and browsing the menu.

Mai chuckles at the three of you and places the drink menu down with a chuckle. “Ah, nice of you to make it.”

Maki rolls her eyes while Nobara scans down the table to make sure no one else is within ear shot. “It’s not our fault! She was talking to a guy!”

“What?!”

Yuki and Shoko turn to look down the table while you sink your seat and hide behind a menu card before Mai repeats her shock again, though this time in a lower volume.

“What do you mean you were talking to a guy? The first rule of this whole trip is no men.”

You whine when Nobara and Maki snicker beside you and fiddle with the edges of the menu before defensively sitting back up and using the extensive wine list as a barrier. “Listen, they approached–”

“They?!”

You cough and kick her shin. “Yea, they approached me and I was just being friendly. Nothing else.”

Nobara peers down at her phone and slides it on the table between the four of you. “Yea, sooo friendly with Itadori’s mentor from the consultancy company he’s working for.”

Megumi’s contact is pulled up on the screen with a variety of images of him walking a pair of dogs, followed by Nobara’s sudden question, his answer, and then his follow up of asking why she wanted to know in the first place. She leaves him on delivered and places the phone back in her purse.

Maki lets out a low whistle and clicks her tongue a few times. “Yuta told me he was thinking of applying there; the salaries are no joke. Starting wage for a consultant is 150k.”

You nearly choke on your order to the waiter for a glass of wine and gawk at her in shock. 150k… starting??? You really should’ve changed career paths.

Mai hums in approval and sips her cocktail while Nobara opens up a new text chain to Itadori reminding him that he should take her and Megumi out to dinner some time to congratulate him on the position. Maki crosses her arms and shuts her eyes with a look of pride on her face. “You know what, I can’t even be mad that the guy you’re talking to works there. If he’s not a junior consultant, I can only imagine the paycheck he must be packing.”

Now that you think about it, all three of them were oozing wealth when you bumped into them. Satoru’s sunglasses were definitely prada, the clip holding up Suguru’s hair was Chanel, and fuck, even Kento’s car was probably more than your entire annual salary for 3 years.

But why the hell were they even giving you time of day in the first place? It’s not like you really knew them– only a small string of mutuals that wasn’t discovered until now.

“And, I just want to thank all of you for being here on such an important trip. It’s not everyday that one of our friends is getting married!!” Yuki says, standing and speaking loudly with her glass raised up.

She takes one look down at you and coughs slightly at your faraway state. “Right?”

You cough and raise up your now delivered wine glass. “Oh, yes! It’s a very important moment.”

Shoko looks down into her glass with a muttered ‘Jesus’ and waits for Yuki to finish her toast before downing the entire thing. The table erupts into cheers and celebration as the waitstaff open the patio doors to the evening ocean view only footsteps away. A few claps emit from the restaurant, as people joyously applaud and the live background music grows louder.

With the doors open, wafts of fresh salty air carry throughout the restaurant as the group begins the first of many hours of wining and dining. Each course is more delicious than the last, each bottle of wine has a higher alcohol percentage than the previous, and by the time dessert rolls around, you barely have the ability to sit upright.

Mai is roped off into a conversation with Utahime as the girls slowly spread to the patio fence to overlook the ocean, to the small dance floor by the live band, and the bar along the back wall. From beside you, Nobara sends a few texts to Itadori while Maki leans her head on her shoulder, making an occasional comment.

With your wine glass empty and a heat on your cheeks, the cool night air doesn’t leave you shivering, but instead seems to be inviting you for a walk on the beach. Though, what’s a walk on the beach without a drink in your hand?

Standing up and heading to the bar, you idly glide past a few bodies until you lean against the counter and look at the drink list offered. Nothing in particular seems to catch your eye, and in a moment of consideration for just another glass of champagne, a deep voice rings out behind you.

“Would you like a recommendation?”

Kento moves to stand beside you, his golf attire replaced with a turquoise button-up and tan slacks, as he gives you a soft smile. Woodsy cologne radiates from him and his hair is wind blown from the ocean breeze that drafts into the room. You smile at the man and blush slightly before pointing to your own empty flute.

“I honestly might get a refill since I know it’ll be good. And besides,” you give him a once over with an earnest smile. “You look more like a whiskey-neat kinda guy.”

Kento chuckles slightly, but doesn’t counter the claim at all; when the bartender comes around, he orders exactly that. You place the flute on the counter upon asking for a refill and move to grab your wallet when Kento tugs your hand away and yells over to the waitstaff to place it under the tab ‘Nanami’. There’s a comfortable pause as you slide your wallet away.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Kento smiles into the drink and passes you your refill with a shrug. “It’s the least I can do, it seems you and your friends are… celebrating.”

The word is forced with a stiffness in his jaw that you can’t quite discern before a few wolf-whistles can be heard from behind you. Two sets of footsteps approach as Satoru and Suguru saunter up with questionable posture from their current tipsy state and laugh at the two of you.

“Ah, didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Just grabbing another drink while our dear friend here is still offering to pay.”

Suguru chuckles at his companion and leans against the bar. “Yea, despite knowing Satoru and I would win, you still offered drinks to the victors. “

Kento scoffs at the two of them, half gracefully accepting his sportsmanship compliments and half for their inebriation when they have another round of seminars starting at 8am the next morning. Satoru whines a few times and slings an arm around the black haired man before shuffling closer to the bar to place another order as if they could simply ignore the blonde who stood just feet away.

In exasperation, he pinches the bridge of his nose before you place a gentle hand on his forearm and tilt your head to the wooden patio stairs. “I was gonna walk along the beach, if you want to join me? Maybe get some fresh air?”

Despite the question being for Kento, Satoru whips his head around and gives a sharp elbow to his dark haired friend with a knowing look. The drink order is in the back of his mind as he gains sobriety for just a brief moment. “You know, that’s a great idea. Kento loves the beach, and Suguru and I would join you but…” He looks at his friend.

“–But we have plans already. I saw on Shoko’s social media that she’s staying here too, Satoru and I were going to say hello…and we’ll tell her you said ‘hi’.”

You weren’t really inviting them too, but their not-so subtle rejection gave you a bit more relief than you’d like to admit.

Kento pauses for a moment, obviously aware that the two men were scheming something, but looking back at you, he already had his answer. Moving his whiskey glace to the other hand, he puts out his forearm as a way for you to steady yourself and offers a gentle smile. “I’d love to accompany you, if that’s alright.”

A tried and true gentleman, Kento guides you to the patio stairs and gives you a moment to slide off your heels to avoid breaking an ankle in the sand. Hammocks are splayed out between a variety of palms, and there’s a system of twinkling outdoor bulbs that create a guided path along the ocean. A few other people still linger by waves while a handful of couples chat idly by the outdoor sports activities set up.

“It’s a beautiful night, huh?”

Kento holds his loafers in one hand and his whiskey glace in the other, mirroring your position. “Yes, it is.”

Despite the lack of conversation, the atmosphere is calm and lively. Waves crash against the sandbank while live music from the restaurant still lingers in the air as you two continue walking along the coast. When Kento’s not admiring the scenery of the ocean, he’s stealing occasional glances at you.

You catch his gaze on one of these moments, and despite being caught, he holds your stare before gently smiling to himself and looking back towards the water. Swirling some of the bubbly in your glass, you match his leisurely pace and nudge him slightly.

“Were you aware that we already kinda know each other? Your intern is close with my best friend.”

Kento sucks in a short breath, not saying anything; you watch his stiffened body language and backtrack at how weird you must sound. “I mean… it’s not like a close connection, but isn’t it coincidental that we have mutual acquaintances?”

Upon hearing that was the end of your recollection, he lets out a short sigh and finally turns back to you. “Ah, it’s a small world then.”

The two of you continue walking along the beach, talking about anything from your interests to small anecdotes about the beautiful view. You learn he loves to read and has a soft spot for baked goods, while he learns about your job and the little hobbies you always wish you had more hours in the day to make time for.

After a while, you both turn back and sit at a small hill of sand that overlooks the waves. Your wine glass is empty and sitting far to the side with your hand propped up behind you slightly for support. It feels so comfortable in the moment, and looking up at the stars above, you barely notice when Kento slides his hand to gently rest atop yours.

“Hm?” You don’t mean to immediately look over, but the moment you do, Kento draws his hand back like he’s been burned and stares off into the distance.

“I’m sorry that was wrong of me.”

You blink a few times. “Wait, what? No, I don’t mind! I was just surprised.”

He shakes his head and mutters a string of profanities to himself before rubbing his face and glaring at the ocean waves ahead.

“No, it’s wrong. All of this. I should have never introduced myself, bought you a drink, and came out here with you… I also should have never let those two idiots meddle in things either.” He mumbles the last part mainly to himself.

You flinch and slink back at the sharp rejection he quickly laid out. Tugging your hand away from its position on the sand, you dust the sand from your dress and prepare to stand up. “Oh. If you didn’t want to be around me, you could’ve just said so.”

“What?”

You both stare at each other, still seated on the sand, in complete shock at each other’s responses.

“What…?” You parrot back to him.

Kento opens his mouth before sighing and scratching his jaw. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here– I do. But it’s wrong. Simple as that.”

“What are you talking about? If you want to be here, with me… and I want the same thing, then why does it matter–?”

“It matters because you’re getting married.”

A heavy silence falls over the both of you, with nothing but the sound of waves lapping at the sand filling the air. Kento lets out a breath and tucks his forehead to his knees, testing out the words on his tongue before saying them.

“You’re getting married. The last thing you should be doing is sitting here with me.”

You blink a few times. “I’m not getting married though?”

…

Kento looks up, his brain short circuiting as if he either didn’t hear you or didn’t believe you. “What…? But the wedding party–”

“Bachelorette party.” you correct.

“The ‘wearing white�� rule–”

“My bathing suit earlier wasn’t white… just my towel covered it.”

“And the toast…?” He asks, quickly unraveling the embarrassing truth himself.

“Yuki just called me out because I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t a toast for me.”

Kento pauses. “And the setting of the table for the bride…”

“Is for my friend Mei Mei. She’s marrying some random millionaire man in a few months and her maid of honor, Shoko, planned this trip.”

He pauses before grabbing ahold of your left hand and finally notices an obvious lack of engagement ring. A laughter escapes your lips and his ears burn red and he lets out a breath of relief and frustration. “I should’ve known better than to listen to them.”

NO, YOU AIN'T GOT NO MRS.

You let him wallow in self grievances for a moment before reaching across to tug his left hand up for inspection. “No ring on you either. I take it you’re also not married, given the sports car as well.”

Kento intertwines his hand in yours for a moment, a melancholy look on his face that melts when his gaze scans your features again under the moonlight. He runs a thumb over your knuckles before pulling you to stand up next to him.

“No, I’m not. But…almost.”

His voice is quiet, though not inherently sad, and you keep silent at his honesty. You didn’t mean to pry for such a sensitive subject and find interest in kicking the sand as you walk.

“I’m sorry.”

Kento tugs your hand to remain next to him; your other hand balances the stem of the flute and the straps of your heeled sandals.

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.” He tilts his head to the side and lets out a steady exhale. “I was engaged a little over a year ago. But there was infidelity on her side… and the plans quickly fell apart. It’s all in the past now.”

You bite your lip and lean slightly into his bicep, in an act of comfort and confidence from the alcohol in your blood. Craning your neck up at the mountain of a man, you can’t even imagine cheating on him. The idea is so bewildering to you that you don’t realize he continued the conversation.

“Though I’m surprised you made the car connection.” He chuckles dryly in embarrassment. “I admit… I used some of the money I set aside for the wedding payment.”

You continue walking side by side, as if it was the most natural way to spend any evening, and can begin to hear the music from the restaurant get louder the closer you get.

“Well… it must have been a very extravagant wedding you were planning; your car is very nice.”

Kento lets out a low chuckle and continues guiding you towards the resort area once again, though his pace is noticeably slower. Despite the amount of drinks in your system, an ounce of sobriety has led to a slight shiver at the cool evening wind that nips at your exposed skin.

“Forgive me, I left my jacket behind, otherwise I would offer it.”

You try to play off the goosebumps on your arms and shake your head. “Ah, I’m alright. To be honest I wanted to keep walking.” The interior of the restaurant is semi-visible, though you can make out the chaotic dancing and giggling of the girls at your table. “I don’t think they mind too much that I’m out anyways.”

Kento follows your gaze and stops walking, the crash of the ocean waves fills the silence as he finally spots the bride-to-be inside before pivoting to turn to you. Salty air pulls your hair in a variety of directions, and he pushes back a few strands to get an unobstructed view of your face.

“To be honest… I was so worried that this bridal trip was for you…” His hand cups your jaw and lets his thumb trace the lower line of your lip.

“...Really…? Why…”

You’re standing breathless as Kento looks from eye to eye before his gaze lingers on your lips. The music still pouring out from the patio and far away voices are defined as he leans down to connect his mouth to yours.

It’s slow and gentle at first, as if he wasn’t too sure if this was the right move but he molds his lips against yours with the impatience of waiting for you to kiss him back. And you do.

Arms wrap around his neck and haphazardly drop your sandals into the sand while Kento tosses his loafers to the ground and wraps his hand around your waist to keep you pulled into him. Patience gone, he rocks his lips into yours with experienced force as if he had been waiting for this moment.

It’s hypnotizing, the way he molds his lips to yours and runs his tongue out just slightly before slipping it into your mouth as if it was his to do so. Everything feels so hot as his tongue rubs against yours and saliva begins to drip from the corner of your mouth from the messiness. Teeth occasionally clinking when you pause to breathe; he urges forward with no desire of letting you go, even for a moment.

Large hands rub circles on your hip bones through the thin fabric of the dress, and when he grinds his pelvis forward just slightly, you can feel the rough outline of a bulge forming in his slacks. The pressure emits a gasp from your throat that leaves him pulling back slightly, worried if he was coming on too strong for the first encounter.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“N-No!” You quickly interject before cringing slightly at how desperate it must sound. “I mean… it’s ok…”

Kento nods once and swallows thickly; his hand still possessively keeping you pressed into him. The chatter from the restaurant pours out from the patio, and you look up at the people stumbling to the beach before turning back up to the man at your side. You both must be thinking the same thing, that you don’t want to go back just yet.

Realistically, if Kento’s worried that he’s overstepping a boundary just by being erect, then it’s you who has to take the initiative for this.

“We don’t have to go back inside, you know.” You smooth out an invisible wrinkle across his chest and nearly falter from the low voice that replies.

“But you’re cold.”

Pursing your lips, you think about it for a moment but tetter on the edge of actually committing to the offer. The last thing you want to come across as is a gold digger, but it’s the only option you can think of.

OH, BUT YOU GOT A SPORTS CAR

“What about going for a drive?”

Kento holds your gaze, letting the phrase sit in his head for a few moments before smirking slightly and tugging you in closer. “Yea? Didn’t take you for the type to wanna go on joyrides.”

You suck your bottom lip in slightly and shrug. “Well if you’d rather we go back inside–” he pulls you back into him when you feign walking back towards the patio stairs and chuckles dryly.

“Alright then, follow me.”

You both pick up the fallen (thankfully) unbroken glasses from the sand and slide them on the patio floor for an unfortunate closing employee to pick up later, before walking around the restaurant to the side parking lot. Kento holds you for support so you can kick the sand off your feet before assisting you into your heels and guiding you to the ‘reserved’ spot.

“Doesn’t the valet have your keys?”

He keeps one hand on the small of your back and fishes out his keyring from his front pocket with a sideway smile. “I don’t enjoy leaving things precious to me with amateurs.”

It’s surprisingly cocky, but it goes straight to your cunt, as he easily guides you to the sleek dark-gray sports car that roars to life with the remote start he clicks on. The LED headlights illuminate the asphalt of the parking lot, and when Kento guides you to the passenger side and opens the door, there’s a projected ‘Mercedes’ logo shining down against the concrete. No expense is spared.

“After you.”

He guides you inside and only releases his grasp on your hand once you’re completely seated inside. In a few short strides, he crosses in front and takes his position behind the wheel before shifting gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

Kento drives slowly at first, letting you take in the sights of the town that accompanies the resort before you turn to him and trace the angle of his jaw; he takes your palm and kisses the back of your hand without ever taking his eyes off the road.

“I thought you said this was going to be a joyride? Hmmm?”

He chuckles and peels his eyes off the road to give you a sideways glance before releasing your hand and pinching the top of your thigh. “I don’t want you getting motion sick on me… and besides, I don’t like driving like that with important cargo.”

“Oh come on,” you tease at him, placing his hand flat on the upper flesh of your thigh and batting your eyelashes at him. “Just for a little bit, for me? Pleaseee?”

Immune to your charm, he gives your thigh one more squeeze before pressing his foot against the accelerator and taking off down the empty road ahead. With a slight squeal, you recover from the pressure and roll down the windows and peer out at the hills of golf courses that pass by in flashes.

Kento shifts the gear for an upcoming curve before placing his hand back on your leg and gripping it a bit tighter. “Hang on angel, might get a little bumpy.”

The car roars down the road, with the only illumination coming from the headlights and occasional streetlights that border. Your hair whips in every direction as the speedometer steadily increases as you make it to the straightaway, Kento occasional glimpses over at your direction with a smirk splayed.

Caring less if you crashed (though with his smooth operation, you’re convinced it would be impossible), you pivot in your seat and face him fully as the world flies by outside the window. Tracing the veins on his forearm of the right arm on the wheel, he gives you a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything until you skim the buttons of his shirt and toy with the seam of his slacks.

WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

WHILE YOU DRIVE IT REAL FAR

Palming the belt and clicking your manicured nails against the buckle, he shifts his hips slightly as if suddenly aware of the bulge that had been pressed against his fly for the entirety of the drive.

Kento sucks in a breath and slows down slightly. “What are you up to?”

You laugh and place a firm hand against the muscular curve of his thigh and push his leg down onto the accelerator to speed up once again. “Nothing in particular… but I can stop if you want.”

A throaty groan escapes his lips when you trace the outline of his cock through the fabric before he leans back in his seat and jerks forward slightly. “Don’t– please.”

Never one to displease, you turn your attention back down to his erection and trace the outline once more until you reach over with both hands to release the buckle. Pulling the leather from the fabric loops, you toss the accessory to the backseat with a slight ‘clink!’.

Kento’s eyes are still on the road, but his knuckles are white at the way they grip the wheel and his pelvis twitches against the seatbelt snug against his hips. Clicking the release and letting the material shrink back to the holder, he gives you a sideways glance before guiding your hand to the fly of his slacks.

“Are you gonna make me ask again?” He gruffly teases without any real bite behind it.

You keep your hand on his groin but lift up slightly to plant a small peck to his jaw with a ‘no~’ before undoing the button and letting the zipper down. Navy blue boxer briefs are stained with a dark patch and immediately push through the now open layer of his slacks; still confined in his underwear, his cockhead pries though the fly painfully.

It twitches a few times under your touch as you pinch the fabric around the elastic band to slide the material down just a few inches more; Kento lifts his hips to assist and the car speeds up as the pressure on the accelerator grows.

His cock is long, pushing 8 inches, with a fair thickness that remains from the base to the tip. Dirty blonde pubes fall in messy tufts along his navel and litter down to his swollen balls; his cockhead weeps pearls of precum from the pretty blushed slit [#e59d9d]. Nearly drooling at the image and your poor unstretched cunt clenching at the idea of it somehow fitting inside, Kento looks over with an undescernable expression on his face.

“I know I haven’t exactly kept up… appearances down there…” He quietly speaks, eyes on the road but foot letting up on the accelerator just a bit.

You smear some of the lubricant down his tip and push down on the throbbing engorged veins that run along the flesh. As if you would really care about the fact he hasn’t shaved in a minute, the man is the epitome of pure sex appeal. Plus there’s something about a man who hasn’t had any action in a while acting so desperate for you, that it’s even more of a turn on.

“I don’t mind in the slightest.”

Before he can protest again, you run your tongue flat across his slit and take in the salty taste of his arousal before letting long strings of saliva drip from your lips and coat his shaft. Tongue rutting against his frenulum a few times, you rub the mixture of pre cum and spit along his cock before guiding it into your mouth.

“O-Oh– fuck.”

One of his hands immediately leaves the wheel and finds purchase in your hair, partially pulling it out of your face and partially pushing your head down juuuust a little further.

The staggering number of inches can’t fit entirely in your mouth, so you take in what you can while one hand jerks off the rest with the same rhythm as the bob of your head while the other hand cups his balls. A few pubic strands tickle your nose as the occasional bump in the road causes you to reach a bit further down his length.

“Ngh– just like that.. Ah–”

Kento’s head is pushed back into the headrest of his seat while his hips slide further and twitch as you suck the soul from him. Each thrust of his pelvis to reach further in your throat is matched with a purr from the engine as the weight of his foot presses down on the gas further; the gusts of wind from outside aren't loud enough to drown out the groans that fall from his lips.

Your hair is still blowing in every direction and the gloss that once adorned your lips has now created a shiny smear of pink along his shaft. Jaw slightly aching, you slip him from your mouth and run the flat of your tongue over his head a few times before placing it in your wet palm and jerking off just the tip. Keeping your head lowered, each jerk of your wrist guides it up onto your awaiting tongue with rhythm.

After a few moments, and a substantial rest of your mouth, you pop him back between your lips and hollow your cheeks to suck him off once again. Kento’s thigh flex beneath you and a steady string of muffled curses fall from his lips before he tilts his head back once more.

“Ahh, close… fuck I’m close..”

Kento gnaws on his bottom lip and furrows his brows before applying the brakes and swerving to park on the side of the road. Far from the resort but still by the sandy coast, there’s not a single headlight or streetlight in view as he hastily puts the car in park and slides his seat back just a tad.

Both hands now on your head, one holding your hair and the other guiding your movements, he plants his feet on the car floor and begins fucking up into your mouth.

“Trying to make me fucking crash, huh? Acting all sweet with a filthy mouth” He groans out while jerking up an erratic rhythm.

Tears fall from your eyes at the lack of oxygen as the once gentleman has seemingly flipped a switch and has begun manhandling however he sees fit. “Mmfpgh-!”

“Haaa” he sarcastically coos above you. “So fucking good, knew it… ngh– the moment I saw your photo”

Kento continues mumbling a string of incoherent phrases until you feel the large vein running under his shaft throb a few times and he’s cumming hot ropes of semen down your throat. The consistency is a bit watery and slides down relatively easily with a sweet taste as he fists himself a few times when your lips pop off him to shoot a few more residual drops onto your face.

“Cumming! F-Fuck I’m cumming–”

It drips down your cheeks and slightly stains the fabric of his slacks as you swallow the load in your mouth and Kento breathes heavily. Wiping the corner of your lips and peering up at the man, his eyes are wired shut as a few beads of sweat slip down his temple and hot pants leave his open mouth.

Once he comes back to his senses, he sits upright and shuffles around in his seat to find a spare silk handkerchief and wipe along your face– gentle to not smudge anything.

“Sorry, I should’ve given you a proper warning.” His touch is soft, a complete 360 from seconds ago, and his voice is warm. Upon finishing cleaning you up, he lets you fix your hair before tapping your jaw and nudging you for a kiss.

It’s a strange exchange, though not an unwanted one. Despite just treating you like some cum slut and jerking up into your throat, he now plants lingering kisses against your lips and keeps his hand firmly on your thigh after he tucks himself back into his pants. Shutting the windows and placing your seat warmer on, he puts the Mercedes back into drive and begins the drive back to the resort with his touch still on you.

“Let me repay you, please.” He offers, eyes still dilated as his fingers pinch the exposed pieces of flesh your dress doesn’t cover.

You rub your hand along his knuckles and lean into your seat; nipples hardening under your dress and cunt weeping into the flimsy fabric of your panties.

“When you say ‘repay’, it makes it seem like I’m just a girl you hired.”

It’s harmless teasing at his wording, but Kento’s expression falls slightly and the grip on your thigh tightens almost possessively. “No. Never.”

You blink at him with a blush and look at your hands with fluster as he takes his hand from your leg for a moment to bring your palm to his lips and plant a few kisses before finding its spot back on your thigh.

The drive back to the resort is nearly tooth-rottingly sweet. Kento ensures, once again, that he wasn’t too rough on you and makes offers for future meetings before you’ve even finished this one. He tells you that the seminar going on happens every year at this location, and he’s come to learn a lot of good local spots. The best seafood restaurants, marine centers, and even the hours when the boardwalks aren’t too crowded; he offers to take you to all of them once his conference ends for the day during the week.

“I do have a few bachelorette activities to attend though” You remind him with a squeeze of his hand.

He frowns and gives a slight pout before clearing his throat and tilting his head. “Well, in the moments you are available, I’d be happy to have your company…. Or even after we go back home.”

The resort comes into view in the window and you turn to him with a smile. “Oh yea, the company you work for is by me– I nearly forgot Nobara mentioned that Itadori got hired there recently…”

Kento swallows slightly and the Adam’s apple in his throat bobs once as you continue talking. “She mentioned that he’s working as an intern in the finance department… Are you like his manager?”

He tilts his head and directs the car back into its reserved spot. “Sort of…I have a comfortable position as the head financial officer of the company.”

You nod at first and get ready to leave the car until the words actually seep into your mind. Wait.. CFO?! Of an international consulting company?! A company with a net worth in the billions. With a ‘B”?!?!

He slips out of his seat and walks around to your side to open the door while you attempt to act as casually as humanly possible that this man might have more money than the GDP of several nations combined. Slipping his hand behind the small of your back to guide you back to the entrance, he stops short and slips his hand naturally into yours when a familiar set of heads loiter by the valet stand.

“What do you meaaaan he’s not here? Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of this very thing?” Satoru’s voice reverberates as he whines against the podium at the underpaid employee.

Suguru sighs and shakes his head with a shrug while Itadori scrolls on his phone frantically reading text messages “Maybe he’s at the spa?”

The white haired man instantly snaps up and gives the younger man a pat on the back way too hard before dragging the two of them back through the lobby. “Come on everyone! We’re his only hope if this is gonna work!!”

Itadori is effectively yanked back into the building while Suguru lets himself be guided by Satoru as the three disappear out of sight. You and Kento wait an extra moment before their voices no longer echo before tepidly climbing the stairs and looking around once for good measures.

“Those idiots…” Kento grumbles, rubbing his face with a sturdy hand as he gently guides you to the elevators. “Oh, is it alright if I bring you to my suite…? I don’t mean to be so forward this soon but…” he dips down and tilts his lips to brush against your ear as the doors shut. “I’d just like to return the favor from earlier.”

You shiver and smile up at the man with a nod before letting him guide you to his hotel room… on the top floor…

Though the entire walk has a different feeling swirling in the back of your mind; specifically his attitude whenever Itadori comes into mention. You let it linger a bit more, walking into the suite and staring awestruck at how much larger his single room was compared to the one you, Maki, and Nobara were crammed into [without hotel knowledge of being over capacity].

The kitchenette area also had a sofa and television in the area before being cut with a partial wall for privacy of the king sized bed that laid on the other side. Large ceilings and warm lighting filled the room and you noticed the lack of suitcases– noting that Kento was the kind of man who fully unpacked into the drawers and closet when traveling.

He lets you admire the suite for a few moments, an entertained smile on his lips, as he re-rolls up his sleeves and turns the kettle on for tea and coffee. From your position standing in his bedroom area, you can see into the ensuite bathroom at the soft plush robes hanging above the large jacuzzi style bathtub. His hotel room is bigger than your entire apartment at home.

ON THE CORNER OF YOUR BED

“Is it to your liking?” he calls out, not hiding the teasing tone in his voice.

You come out of the bathroom and laugh before calling out for him to join you; he shuts off the kettle and immediately walks over. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and his arms around the small of your waist, you tilt your chin upwards and press your lips against his.

It’s slow and sweet at first, rocking against each other a few times before Kento is rubbing your hips bones with his thumbs and grinding another growing erection into your pelvis. Tongue slipping in, he brings a hand up to hold your chin steady as he explores your molars and refuses to break the connection until you’re clawing at him to be even closer.

The kiss breaks with a string of light saliva that snaps when he attempts to push your thighs against the bed; you stop him and spin to guide him to sit on top of the comforter. Kento doesn’t complain though, he lets himself be swayed by your touch and sits on the corner of the mattress with his hands on your waist and impatiently tugging you closer and your dress upwards.

Your hands steady his with a slight smirk on your lips. “Wait a moment–” he stops and looks up as you continue. “What was it that you mentioned earlier? Something about, ‘ever since I saw your picture’?”

Kento pauses and drags his dilated pupils away from your face to the corner of the room with a tense swallow. “I’m sure I’m misunderstanding you–”

“–And how tense you seem to act when Itadori is mentioned? I can always ask Nobara if there’s some sort of connection I’m missing here..”

You move to grab your phone but he immediately reaches out and stops you. “Wait.”

He gnaws his bottom lip and looks up at you with pleading eyes before sighing and pressing his forehead to the area just below your breast with a guilty expression.

“I may have seen you before, from Itadori’s social media… He was always on his phone during work when he first started a few months ago… so one time I looked over his shoulder to see what could be so important, when I noticed the most recent social media post pulled up happened to be Nobara’s profile image with you in it.”

… now that you think about it, there have been a few more rando empty accounts that started following you…

He rests his cheek into you and pulls his head upright with more confidence for the confession. “Well, Suguru and Satoru soon found out that I was…uh interested in you, and have been trying to hatch some scheme to get me to talk to you…”

You blink and comb his silky hair a few times before cupping his face with a coy look. “Why didn’t you just ask Itadori to have Nobara introduce us if you thought I was cute?”

He huffs and pouts slightly. “Asking my subordinate for his permission to date his mutual friend is hardly professional.”

‘Date’ isn’t a term either of you have mentioned yet, but now that it’s out there, you don’t want it taken back. Nodding in understanding, you trace his cheekbones and jaw before pressing your thumb on his lips while his hands still grasp and knead the flesh on your thighs and waist.

“And that photo– all my photos I have posted, what did you do with it?”

He pauses. Coughing slightly at the surprise and attempting to tilt his head down but being blocked by your hands.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean–”

“Kento.” You take a hand from his jaw and trace down his buttons to the bulge in his slacks and press. “What did you do with that photo of me?”

He groans slightly and twitches before locking eye contact with dilated pupils so large the irises are nearly hidden.

YOU COULD DO IT ON YOUR OWN

WHILE YOU'RE LOOKIN' AT ME

“I masturbated to it.”

“Show me.”

Slowly, without breaking his stare, he releases the fly of his slacks and shimmies them down to the floor before tugging the elastic of his boxer briefs down to his mid-thigh once more. You take a slight step to the side and tug his hand to your mouth and spit into his palm before guiding it back down to his throbbing erection. He presses a kiss to your lips and brings his saturated hand to pump his cock a few times.

He sets a steady rhythm and keeps his neck craned to look at you as he touches himself, groaning and panting as he takes in the real image and not one on a screen. You watch the erotic scene for a few moments before tilting down and planting a few open-mouthed kisses and bites along his neck and stepping away from bed.

“Don’t stop.” You order when he briefly pauses in confusion, and Kento immediately returns his pace.

Popping the buttons of his shirt, he lets you guide the material off him and to the floor, revealing a body sculpted from marble. Hefty pectoral muscles, soft but defined abs, and biceps that could probably lift a refrigerator are on display as he continues to pump himself.

It’s a view you could stare at for a lifetime, but you snap out of it and slowly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders. The strip tease is done while entirely maintaining eye contact; when the satin material drops to the floor and you’re left braless in your dripping lace panties, Kento audibly groans.

“Fuck, baby… look even ngh– better than my imagination…”

You smile and snap the elastic band of your panties against your hip before sloooowly sliding it down one leg and then the other, showing your wet pretty pussy on full display. Kento’s hand speeds up, giving extra attention to his tip as you put on a slight show and pinch your own nipples and snake a hand down to rub a light circle to your clit.

“Please…” He huffs out, slowing his pace. “Don’t wanna cum if it’s not in that tight cunt.”

Kento rises to his feet and scoops you into his arms before tossing you back on the bed and kicking his underwear off the rest of the way. Laying flat against the plush mattress, you shimmy up to the pillow while he quickly climbs to hover over you and presses hard kisses into your lips with hunger.

His erection drips onto your navel pathetically as he grinds against you a few times; blonde pubes scratch your skin as he drags his cock up and down the mound of your pussy before lining up with your needy hole.

“Promise to haa– treat her right later, ‘kay baby? I’ll give her plenty of kisses later, I just.. Need to be inside you”

He’s talking to you about your own pussy before spitting down on his dick and teasing your entrance with the head a few times before slowly stretching you wide and sliding in.

Hands immediately digging into his shoulders, Kento waits a moment with peppered kisses along your temple as he gives a few shallow pumps to get you properly adjusted to the sheer girth. His knees splay your thighs a bit wider and one hand reaches to place a pillow below your hips before he sinks in steadily.

“Oh fuck– Kento!”

“I know baby, I know… just a bit more for me okay?” He presses his hips further in until his cockhead is kissing your cervix and his pubes are kissing your clit as he bottoms out. The sting of the stretch turns delicious as gives a few gentle strokes before snapping his hips up and forward into you.

Tits bouncing with each thrust, you hold onto him for dear life as he molds your pussy to the shape of his dick with each pump. Kento throws his head into the crook of your neck and nearly crushes you from the weight of his frame, but the close proximity creates perfect friction against your clit as his cock bullies against your cervix.

“Nghh.. feels so good– like you were made f’me…”

You toss your head back into the pillow and give him access to mark up your neck while his hips don’t relent. “Ahhh d-don’t say things like t-that unless you mean it…”

He takes a stronger bite to the throb of your pulse and gives a harsher snap of his hips. “I do.. Fuck– of course I mean it… ‘been thinking about you longer than you know…” he sits upright on his knees and pins your hands to your navel and bullies your pussy even more. “Made me so mad to think that the wedding might be for you… before I even had the chance to make you mine…”

You’re borderline drunk on his cock already, and he fairs no better above you with irises practically in the shape of hearts. Large hands keep your own pinned down as the room is filled with the wet squelches coming from where your bodies meet and the plap! of his balls smacking the flesh of your ass.

With the residual amount of coyness left, you bat your eyes up at him. “O-Oh yea? Nfgh– and what if I was getting married, huh?”

Kento furrows his brows and nearly snarls at the image of you with someone besides him– like the idea of another person getting to fuck your perfect pussy was blasphemy.

He jerks his hips up to rut against your g-spot and groans as you clench around him. “It would be w-wrong but… fuck so tight– I’d still… still try and make a move…”

One of the hands that pins down your own snakes to the plush area below your navel, right above where his cock drills into you from the inside. He pushes down. “Haaaa… imagine if I could have you like this, b-but you were already engaged…? God, I'd at least wanna– wanna send you down the aisle knocked up with my kid.”

Your eyes practically roll back into your skull as he snakes that hand down further to rub circles on your swollen clit while his tip grinds against your g-spot over and over again. Toes circling and voice wavering into a high pitch, you screw your eyes shut and feel your orgasm slam into you.

The sound between your bodies is nearly palpable from how wet you’ve become and Kento releases his upright position to hover back over you and increase his own pace. Mind going numb from the aftershocks, he pulls out partially to fuck his tip in and out at an erratic pace before slamming back in and twitching as he cums.

Hot semen pours out with each weakened snap of his hips as he fills your pussy up with his seed and keeps your bodies connected even after he’s finished cumming. A cream ring around his shaft and smeared on his pubes, and semi-opaque cum dribbling from your cunt and onto the sheets, Kento winces as he pulls out his softening erection.

You keep your gaze on the ceiling for a moment as you catch your breath and wipe the few drops of sweat that fell from Kento’s face onto your chest in the moment. His gaze lingers on the way his semen slowly begins to drip from your pussy with an indiscernible face, before he’s sitting upright and guiding you to rest against him.

“Ah, sorry. That was…. A bit much, maybe?” he sheepishly coughs out while rubbing a warm hand on your shoulder.

“No, it was really nice– you were amazing.”

He pauses at the compliment, but you simply offer a smile and plant a quick peck to his cheekbone while wondering what the move was now.

He had mentioned something about dating earlier…. But does the post-nut clarity change anything..?

Before you can dwell on it too long, he rises from the bed and gives your hair a quick comb with his fingers and tilts his head for the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yea?”

The marble tilted floors are cold against your feet as Kento reaches over the tub to start the warm water; he helps you climb in and takes a spot next to you in the large jacuzzi as the jets slowly push bubbles around the surface.

Each action is soft and sweet, as if he wasn’t just rearranging your guts and threatening to get you pregnant just moments ago. He passes the soap, rubs your shoulders, and lets you play with his hair when you offer to assist in applying shampoo.

That is, until he guides you to sit in his lap because ‘it offers a better position for relaxing the muscles’, and when he drags his hands over your breasts because ‘it’s important to get them routinely checked’.

Not that you mind it, the heat between your legs getting warmer as his hands work their way down further and his lips plant a variety of kisses and bites to the flesh on your shoulders. When his hands hover just above your cunt once more, and a new erection now growing behind you, he stops short as if it pained him to not continue. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this..”

Your heart drops for a moment– he’s a man richer than you can imagine and drives a car worth more than your annual salary… he’s probably got tons of women like this on the side. Mentally scolding yourself for thinking that he would actually want something more than a one night stand, Kento nudges your face to the side in order to get a better glimpse at your expression.

“Whatever is running through that mind of yours, please stop it.” He traces the curve of your jaw and taps your pulse point underneath. “I want to do this again, but– forgive my ‘old fashioned’ opinion– the right way.”

He pauses a moment, nearly nervous. “On a date. I’d still like your company during this weekend if you’re not busy, but maybe when we return home I can take you to dinner sometime? It would be nice to actually go on a date if we’re going to be dating.”

…

He’s so painfully forward that it actually turns you on more.

Blinking a few times and bashfully shrugging– as if you really had to think about it– you lean closer and smile up at him.

“I’d like that. My only request…”

He sucks in a still breath, ready for you to put some sort of cap on the amount of times he can see you, or the amount of gifts he’d like to order to your house, or–

You laugh at his worry and guide his hand further to right above your clit. “Is that you pick me up in your sports car each time.”

NO, YOU AIN’T NO MRS.

OH, BUT YOU GOT A SPORTS CAR!

ok I DID NOT mean for this to be so long, i just think it's borderline impossible for me to write smut without a plotline idk why

sorry it's so dayum long, but hopefully you pookies liked it!

-> next post should hopefully be CKNF or a small headcanon

also im obsessed with this song currently and Kento fits sooo nicely... though I was also debating writing this for Higuruma instead!

lemme know what you think<33

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

ILY

-oatmeal

#nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader smut #nanami x reader smut #kento x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jealous nanami x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fanfic #nanami one shot #kento one shot #jjk x yn #oatmealwords

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simmerandwrite · 8 months ago

Text

electric touch (part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x medical team! reader

Summary: Getting a spot on the field medical team was your dream. And your closest work friend Bucky Barnes finally asking you out? That was the cherry on top of your good news. Now all you had to do was pass your training week. Seems easy enough until you’re faced with someone who doesn’t want to see you win.

Warnings: abuse of power, verbal abuse, physical assault, some PTSD (but none of these are because of Bucky!!!!)

Wordcount: 7k

Part 2

Notes: hello! Are you hungry for a lil slice of ‘who did this to you’ pie with a big dollop of protective Bucky Barnes on top? Dig in!! I aim to be as nondescript as possible for the reader but I will note reader is shorter than Bucky and wears glasses. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! please consider reblogging, it helps my work reach more lovely people here on Tumblr. <3 merci!

---

Your regular lunch dates with Bucky started unintentionally. In fact, your friendship with Bucky had started that way – very unintentionally.

In retrospect, you couldn’t believe you had been late on your first day. You had intentionally set extra alarms to make sure you got to Stark Industries early.But you couldn’t control the inconsistencies of the New York subway system. When you skirted into the training room, only one seat was left – beside Bucky Barnes himself.

It was funny to think that the mandatory onboarding applied to new Avengers, too.

Of course, you knew who he was – the former Winter Soldier – but you didn’t realize he had to sit through the boring health and safety discussions and HR seminars like everyone else. When the first lunch break arrived, you turned to him and asked if he wanted to join you for lunch at the burger place down the street.

Initially, it looked like he was fighting off the urge to decline, but then he said: “Sure.”

Your conversations were very stilted in the beginning, which you didn’t mind. But as the week carried on, you felt the foundations of a friendship.

(He told you, later, that he appreciated your kindness that first day. That he had been really fucking scared to sit in that room with strangers judging him. He liked that you treated him like a normal person.)

It had grown organically since then – but you were simply just work friends. Your roles at Stark Industries slash The Avengers Initiative didn’t always overlap, but you did occasionally see him in the halls or if he happened to be by medical when you were working. Then, one day, you saw him eating alone in the cafeteria and you dropped down across from him to catch up.

Then lunch turned into a routine for you both. Typically on Wednesdays you’d sit together, if Bucky wasn’t on a mission or you weren’t on the night rotation. Sometimes Sam or Steve or some of the other nurses joined you, but secretly, you liked when it was just you and Bucky. Sometimes it felt like he preferred it that way too.

“So, guess what?” You sat down on the chair across from him, your tray knocking against his. He slowly moved his eyes from the pages of his book – he almost always had his nose in a book at lunch, regardless of the company – and matched your smile.

“I take it you got good news?”

You searched his face then frowned. “Wait, do you already know? That’s not fair.”

“Sam showed me the roster.”

A groan rumbled from your chest. “Boo.” You tipped your head to look at him as you paused. “Can you just pretend you’re about to hear this for the first time?”

Bucky smirked, putting down his book and politely stacking his hands to give you his full attention. “Sure. Start again?”

“Guess what?” You repeated, rolling your eyes.

“I’ve got no clue, doll. What?”

“You are looking at the newest member of the field medical team!” The chair legs squeaked as you danced in celebration.

“Congratulations,” Bucky replied, a wide smile crossing his face. He reached out and offered his fist, which you met with your own. You knocked your knuckles into his twice then wiggled your fingers at one another - a silly secret handshake you had invented together over a Taco Tuesday lunch one day, mostly out of annoyance to Sam.

You deflated afterwards, though, as reality set in. “Hopefully I can make it through training next week. It’s going to be hard but.. I can do hard things.”

Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, holding it for a moment though he quickly pulled back. “You’re going to do great. You wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, glancing down to where his hand had briefly made contact with yours. It felt.. hot, for some reason. You resisted touching the skin there. This had been happening more than you wanted to admit recently – a new spark when you saw him, when you touched. You thought you had easily avoided the possibilities of a developing crush on Bucky but.. something had been brewing for you. And maybe the same was happening with him, too - when you thought about how he looked at you, how considerate he was…

You wouldn’t know with any certainty unless you asked and you were way, way too scared to ask. Ruining your friendship may not be worth it. Especially if you were joining the medical team that would accompany the Avengers on some of their missions. What if you made it weird? What if you went on one date and it was terrible and your friendship never recovered? What if you asked Bucky out and then he laughed in your face and –

“We should go out and celebrate,” he cut you off.

Wait. Was his voice shaking?

You met his eyes. Was he nervous? “I still.. I have to pass the training.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And tomorrow I leave for.. an undisclosed location for the week. So. When I get back and you’ve crushed the training and have the new job title, let’s go out.”

“Just you and me?” You asked, swallowing hard.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah. If you..”

“Like a date?”

He closed his eyes, face scrunched up. It was cute. “Yeah, like a date, sweetheart. Just you and me.”

Okay, well, okay. Yes. Okay, that answered your question. You supposed the risk was being taken either way. There. He did the thing before you could even talk yourself out of it.

You smiled, nervously adjusting your glasses. Oh my god. You hadn’t even answered. With eyes wide, you reached for him. “Yes, that sounds.. that sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “For a second there, I really thought I screwed all this up.”

---

Bucky couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to finally just do it. Asking you out had been at the top of his list for a long time and although it scared the shit out of him, this follow-up feeling of anticipation had been totally worth it. Now he just needed to get through a grueling mission with a sweet reward at the end – a date with you.

You- the first stranger who treated him like a regular person. You - who cared so deeply about your job. You - who seemed to always hear his snarky comments and always laughed, giggled, snorted, at them. With a smile that could make his entire body warm up.

You. He couldn’t wait for that damn date.

A date was the scary next step. But he was tired of waiting and tired of denying his feelings. And thank god you had reacted just as positively. The foundation of your friendship was so important to him but he had a feeling things could be even better. He prayed he wouldn’t fuck it all up.

When he showed up at the compound early in the morning to get on the jet, Bucky was surprised to see Sam prepping in the pilot’s seat.

Sam jumped in with an answer before the question even left Bucky’s lips. “Natasha had to join Clint on the Belize mission, last minute. So it’s you and me, pal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Though he wasn’t mentally prepared for a week with Sam, he could handle it. Bucky was certain he could handle anything that he faced this week, knowing it was your face on his mind keeping him going.

As you crossed his mind again, another thought surfaced.

“If you’re here, who’s taking over the training for the med field team?” Bucky reached for his phone then cursed. They were going dark for this mission so he’d left his phone in his locker. Although he had sent you a message after he got up that morning, he wanted to reach out one last time and send some extra reassurance your way.

“Don’t worry,” Sam knocked his shoulder, standing up to do a final check of the gear. “Your girl is in good hands.” Sam added in a wiggle of his fingers in Bucky's direction.

You weren’t Bucky’s girl.. yet. He didn’t feel bothered by the term. In fact, he loved it and so badly wanted you to be okay with him saying it some day too. Though it was still worth correcting Sam. It didn’t seem fair to put a label on something without consulting you first. Not to mention Sam’s teasing about you and Bucky had been going on for months and Bucky did not want to indulge him.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky replied, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

Sam carried on. “Boone is doing the training protocol instead, but I’ll manage the final evaluations next week.”

A quiet groan escaped Bucky’s lips. “Boone is a jackass.”

“I don’t disagree that he can be a bit too self assured - but he has proved himself in the field and will be a great mentor to this cohort.”

“Wasn’t he one of the agents Steve benched a few months ago - after his annual physical? What’s the term they used - he was doping?”

Sam sighed. “He was clean but a couple of his buddies were thrown out. But Boone is good, Buck. She’s gonna be fine.” With a final glance at the screen between them, Sam clapped his hands. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

---

When you applied for the job at Stark Industries for their medical team, you weren’t entirely sure what the role was going to entail. Your years of working as a nurse at the busiest emergency room in Chicago had given you plenty of experience with, well, everything and anything imaginable. You were always prepared for the unexpected.

What you hadn’t expected though was the pace - it was significantly slower than you imagined. Most of your days revolved around small visits from agents for anything from minor injuries and lacerations to annual physicals. On occasion you’d support when the Avengers came in, but usually they worked directly with Dr. Cho or the other on site doctors.

You figured the cure for your unrelenting desire for more was to get on the field medical team - a group of agents and trained nurses who accompanied the Avengers or other strike teams on missions, acting as a resource for any injuries to civilians and team members alike. Not every mission needed a team and sometimes it would involve last minute travel, but you didn’t mind.

When your application for transfer was finally accepted, you couldn’t get over how excited you were. You had been working hard for months getting into better shape, especially your stamina. Sure, maybe you could do a bit more when it came to targeted strength training but you had qualified on the initial testing to even get into the training level, so you’d be fine.

You could do this.

Truthfully, you were really excited about it. And Bucky had sent you the most encouraging message before he left that morning and you just.. You knew you could do this.

Bucky's words echoed: “...you wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You were going to do this well and you were going to make yourself proud, too.

Most of your excitement depleted when you walked into the gym though. You joined the rest of the agents in the training group and braced yourself when you saw Agent Nathan Boone standing with his tablet, calling out names for attendance.

“Wilson had to suit up as Falcon and jump on a critical mission this morning so I’ll be running the training program this week,” he explained as he sized up his group, which included you plus another half a dozen training agents.

Without a doubt, Boone was the worst replacement for Sam you could think of. Boone exuded a confidence you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around, given his frat guy personality. Hiding behind his smarmy grin, linebacker build and perfectly coiffed hair - he was a real jackass.

You tried not to let your mind race as Boone walked you all through the upcoming week of training. You’d be going over everything from basic self defense skills to hand to hand combat strategies to overall endurance drills. Then he explained that next week it was Sam Wilson who’d be doing the final evaluations.

“So let’s prove to him you’re all a good batch, okay?” Boone’s demeanor shifted as he got into his coaching mode. “Let’s start with a warm up run. Onto the treadmills.”

This wasn’t your first interaction with Boone, though you weren’t sure he would remember you.

During your first few weeks you’d been responsible for doing the annual physicals for most of the agents. It had been a very repetitive (and boring) assignment, until some anomalies came up in the test results. A few agents, including Boone, had weird things flagged on their blood and urine tests - mostly markers that indicated steroid use. Which was completely against standards for agents and employees at Stark Industries.

One of them, some bulky aggressive asshole, tried to convince you to look the other way but you had ultimately reported it. The fallout caused a huge uproar between the medical team and the agents, with the consequence coming down on a handful of agents who were fired due to drug use. Boone had escaped that fate somehow, passing his re-test with perfect results. And even though HR promised you it was a sealed case, you were always worried it had left a bit of a target on your back.

Nothing had come from it. The next round of physicals you assisted with didn’t involve any of those field agents and no other concerns had been flagged. Everything seemed back to normal.

In fact, you had seen Boone once since that whole controversy. A few months ago you passed him flirting with one of the admins in your department but you kept your head down and ignored him. That was it.

Hopefully the week of training wouldn’t be soured by your history with him but you figured it was safest to go in with an open mind.

Thankfully, by the end of your run, as you were moving onto some basic tactical drills, he continued treating you just like everyone else. Generally firm and distant overall, but nothing strangely out of the ordinary. His barked orders were delivered to everyone evenly. If he had any recollection of your connected history, he didn’t bring it up.

The first day of training had been tough, especially since you still had a few extra hours of work to log afterwards. When you returned to your reporting station in the medical wing, you had to really settle your mind down and talk your way through the unkind thoughts racing around your brain.

You could do this.

The second day focused exclusively on muscular endurance, which wasn’t really your strong suit but you managed to keep up with the group all the same.

Boone had the entire cohort going hard - with a lot of tough but constructive encouragement coming from him along the way. When one of the other trainees dropped their barbells, it seemed to irritate Boone immensely too. He let out a few curses as he helped them pick the weights back up then apologized for his reaction but the flare of anger was evident.

When you were all heading back to the locker rooms, it was one of the other agents muttering about ‘roid rage’ that raised a red flag for you.

It was during the third day of training that you felt the first tug of resistance with Boone. It was small things that you couldn’t help but file away. The way he delivered supportive commentary to everyone else in the group but only gave you critical feedback. During one of the practical scenarios, he undermined all your answers.

“I see why you’d think that way if you’ve never done this before but I can tell you by experience, it wouldn’t work. Bit of an amateur way of looking at things, actually. You need to do better if you’re going to be in the field with experts. Are you sure you passed the interview for this role?”

He said things in a way that didn’t always seem personal to you, but he certainly delivered them in a condescending tone.

But, maybe, well, maybe you were just reading into things. You were feeling tired already and not really sleeping, so your focus was a bit off.

Yeah, you could do better, strategize better, think things through in a better way.

On the fourth day, after a morning of weapons training and spending time at the range, the session moved onto sparring drills. It was quite basic - Boone walked the group through easy to follow hand to hand techniques, spending time here and there with each person to adjust their form.

Everyone who qualified for the med team had to pass certain physical testing standards already. You had been working hard in the gym for months to get your mind ready, though you knew you weren’t very experienced in anything related to defensive techniques.

When he got to you following one of the scenarios, there was a firm frown on his face. “You need to be less in your head.”

You nodded, flexing and stretching your hands out. “Okay. Uhm okay, well, do you have any tips on how to–”

He was quick to cut you off. “Figure it out. I don’t have time to teach you critical thinking skills.” Following a sharp finger snap, he pointed directly at you. “And what’s with the glasses?”

“Ran out of contacts this morning, but I can do without them if I need to. Its–”

“They’re a safety risk.”

He didn’t care for your explanation or offer you any other advice, instead just muttering something as he moved on and tapping something into the tablet. None of his feedback had been helpful. Christ, you figured maybe it was worth starting a list to consult with Sam about following your evaluation instead.

You just had to get through one more day with Boone. You were tired - down to your bones, from the physical and mental work during this week.

But it was nearly the weekend and that meant next week was approaching. Most importantly, the training would be done and you would have a real date with Bucky on the books, too. You couldn’t wait.

---

The last training day was mostly a culmination of everything you had gone over from the week. There was more endurance testing, some strength and performance work and the day ended with more sparring and situationals.

You knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. And when everything was wrapping up, you were relieved to finally be done with taking instructions from Boone, too.

Until his final speech. “You’ve been a great group and I would say most of you are ready for next week. Wilson will be impressed.” After a few more notes and instructions for the following week, he dismissed everyone. As you headed back towards the locker room, he called your name.

That made your stomach drop. He waved you back over towards the mats.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up,” Boone started slowly, eyes glancing around the empty room before he looked down at his tablet screen. “Here is the report on your training this week.” He turned the device so you could read over it.

After the first line, you took it from his hands. “Wait - what?”

“I just don’t think you’re ready.” Boone crossed his arms. “You’ve got the medical knowledge, sure. But the rest of it, even if you had another two months to train, I’m doubtful.” He took the tablet back and continued scrolling, as if he hadn’t just delivered such a disappointing blow to you. “It’s up to you whether you still want to do your test with Sam next week, but if I was in your shoes, I’d tap out.”

You swallowed hard, head tipped slightly to the side as you took in what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I kept up with everyone here this week.”

“This is a controlled environment; I don’t think you can hack it in the field.” Boone shrugged. “Like I said, you’re more than welcome to do your evaluation but I don’t think this will impress The Falcon enough to solidify your spot on the field team.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of this decision then,” you bit in return, taking a step back. It felt like he was egging you on and you didn’t like it. Even worse that you were alone with him in the gym. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“You don’t have to, or you simply can’t?” He countered, tossing the tablet to the side as he crossed his arms. He sized you up, eyes drawing up the shape of your body. “Let’s try something.” He motioned to the mats. “I’ll give you another chance to change my mind about that report. Maybe I misread your abilities and intentions.”

You knew the right thing to do would be to walk away and ignore how he was antagonizing you. But a tiny voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that you were good, that you had earned your place here. That you needed to show him that.

No, you didn’t.

Yes, you did.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing yourself in the middle of the mat. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Boone laughed, standing in front of you. He scanned you over again. “Scenario. You’re in the field, there’s a civilian who needs medical attention. You’re alone with them as everyone else explores the area for threats. But, it's night time, it was a busy bit of action and –” Boone reached over and pulled your glasses off. “And you lost your glasses in the chaos.”

Before you could protest about the logistics of this stupid scenario, he threw them to the side.

You shook your head and immediately stepped back. “What the fuck?”

“Maybe you should have worn your contacts today.” He replied and this time, there was something more at the edge of his words. Something unsettling.

This was a bad idea. But he was waiting for you to reply, to call his bluff and tap out. You growled to yourself and stayed.

“The civilian has a broken limb so you’re on the ground beside them.” Without even hesitating he placed both his hands on your shoulders and shoved you down to your knees.

None of this made any lick of sense. This wasn’t a scenario you’d end up in. You wouldn’t be alone or you’d call for backup.

He continued without a second thought, moving to stand behind you, placing his hand on the crown of your head. “And someone comes at you from behind – now you’re compromised and so is your civilian.”

You sat there on your knees, chock still. A red flashing light was going off in your mind but for some reason, you stayed.

A low, grumbly laugh escaped him. “See? Not only are you a terrible nurse but you have no fucking instinct—”

You immediately swung your leg up to hook behind him, not sending him down to the ground but gaining enough of your own momentum to plot out your next move. Planting a foot, you lunged forward and grabbed his waist, pulling him towards the mat.

That really set off whatever anger had been simmering in him. The next thing you saw was the training mat as your face and torso were being shoved against it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your shouting felt useless as your body writhed under his weight. Your cheek dragged across the plastic mat as you moved, burning against your skin. “Get off of me, you—”

“Defend. Yourself.” Boone barked back, adjusting to grab your arm. He gripped your elbow, then twisted your wrist behind your back. A jolt of pain rushed down your shoulder. “Took me a few days but then I remembered your face.”

You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please just stop. What is��why are you—”

“Three of my friends, my brothers – you ruined their lives, you know that? They lost all their job prospects, they have fuck all left because of what you did. You know, we need that stuff - to keep up with supersoldiers. There is nothing fucking wrong with some pharmaceutical help. If I’m backing up Captain America, I deserve the boost.” With his knee pressing against your back, he leveraged himself to sit up a bit straighter. But his grip on your wrist remained, growing tighter and tighter. “If you had just turned the other way and ignored those tests—”

“I was doing my job,” you mumbled back at him. “They were the ones who broke the rules and—”

His voice hadn’t quite grown to shouting but the intensity grew. “And you are the one who suffers now, alright? And you sure as hell aren’t joining the field team. I’m going to make sure of it.”

---

All Bucky wanted to do when they got back to the compound was text you. It was late Sunday night but he didn’t care.

After the grueling week he and Sam had, Bucky took comfort in knowing soon enough he’d get to see you. He wanted to know about everything from last week - from training to everyday life, he just wanted to talk to you. Crossing the threshold from friends to something more was scary but during his long, sleepless nights, you provided a strange sense of comfort to him.

Without doing a dang thing. Just knowing you made him better, inspired him to be better and to be present.

“Hey,” Sam tugged on Bucky’s arm before he headed to the locker room. “Medical check first. Then you’re free to send your little smiley face emojis to her.”

Bucky grumbled but didn’t have the energy to argue with Sam. The mission had gone well but hadn’t been the smoothest for either of them. While they both returned unharmed, Bucky knew coming down from these sorts of weeks properly was important.

Finally, after a clearance from the nurse and a quick shower - Bucky was turning his phone back on.

He dismissed all the messages from Steve and an Avengers group chat he liked to ignore then finally found his way to his conversation with you. Seeing a slew of your thoughts over the course of the week made him smile.

You: good luck this week - come back in one piece, please <3

You: made it through day one and two, turns out my five-story walkup apartment is good for my cardio skills after all lol You: remind me of that next time I complain about the stairs

You: day three has proved that I do need to work on my upper body strength You: wanna be my personal trainer? ;)

You: miss you, hope everything is going safely You: this week has really kicked my ass

Your messages did peter off by Friday and although Bucky longed for more, he assumed you were probably just tired after the long week. Plus, the training wasn’t for the light of heart. Sam had shown him the schedule and although it was standard, its intensity was intentional. Not that Bucky doubted you - he knew you’d been preparing as best as you could since you had shown an interest in joining the field team months ago. But that could really exhaust someone by the end of it.

And tomorrow you had to power through a final evaluation with Sam too, so Bucky hoped you got to spend the rest of the weekend resting.

He dropped down onto one of the benches and planned his response.

Bucky: hey doll, made it back safe and sound Bucky: in one piece, I promise :) Bucky: can’t wait to hear about last week, I’m sure you did great Bucky: good luck tomorrow, I’ll come find you after the eval Bucky: sweet dreams

---

Bucky felt a little bit silly, lingering outside the training gym. At least he wasn’t pacing, that would have been an even worse look. He leaned against the opposite wall to the doors, arms crossed.

Something just felt a bit off for him and, well, finally seeing you would help ease his mind. It was just strange – the lack of communication. Sure, he had sent his message quite late the night before but he assumed he might hear something back from you during the day.

But no, it had been radio silence. He could attribute it to your needing to prepare for your evaluation but that didn’t seem like enough of a justification. In all the times you and he had been friends, you always managed to send a reply.

He would just have to settle for an in person update, following your testing with Sam. Five other agents exited the gym by mid afternoon, but you never showed up at the door.

Sam did eventually emerge, tapping quickly against his tablet. He came to a halt when he spotted Bucky waiting, arms now tightly locked behind his back.

Bucky looked over Sam’s shoulder, trying to glimpse into the gym before he met his eyes. “How’d she do?”

Sam let out an awkward laugh. “Well, she didn’t show. She sent me an email earlier saying that she was sick.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “Oh.”

“I know, weird. What’s even more weird though is that when I said we could reschedule her for another date, she tapped out.” Sam raised his shoulder to shrug then showed Bucky the screen.

Bucky scanned over the message and frowned. It was true. Your reply to Sam was short, explaining you didn’t want to reschedule and declined any further interest in the field team. That was it. You were out.

“Given how she sent me a five-paragraph essay explaining how excited she was to join the team, this seems out of character.” Sam tucked the screen under his arm and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Give me an update after you talk to her.”

“What makes you think—”

“Oh, I already see your wheels turning. You’re doing the math on how quickly you can get to her place.” Sam called after him as Bucky turned to leave. “Let her know I can reschedule her anytime!”

---

You knew you couldn’t ignore Bucky forever. It was just.. it felt like too much, thinking of a way to reply. After what happened with Boone on Friday, every single thing in your life felt like climbing the steepest mountain.

It was absurd how quickly things had escalated. You should have just walked away the instant Boone brought up your evaluation. Getting on that mat with him was really fucking stupid and.. here you were.

You could barely remember how you got home Friday – dazed and confused and numb. After Boone finished screaming and you had stopped trying to fight back, you curled up on yourself. You fought back tears over the humiliation and pain, hands shaking as you grabbed your things from the locker room. One ridiculously overpriced cab ride later and you made it home to your studio in Astoria.

Then you cried in the shower and all the way to your bed - where you stayed as long as you possibly could on Saturday, dousing yourself in painkillers just to try and stay asleep.

You knew you needed to go to urgent care, or even just an emergency room - somewhere you could afford the x-ray. You had never broken a bone before but you had seen plenty of hand fractures during your time working in triage. You couldn’t make a fist, your hand was bruising up towards your wrist and the pain was excruciating. The image of Boone stomping on your hand and wrist as you tried to crawl away was imprinted in your mind…

You were stuck on the climb though. The mental battle of trying to figure out the best lie to tell the admitting nurses anywhere was daunting. Christ, how would you explain this?

You had to - you had to tell someone. The way Boone had flown off the handle, how he attacked you verbally and physically, he couldn’t get away with it. You knew the right thing to do but… fuck if you weren’t scared. He had made it pretty clear he’d be keeping an eye on you. And there was no way you’d be able to do your test with Sam now.

If you reported him, you’d probably have to get HR and the police involved and what if he denied everything and—

You ended up in a helpless loop every single time.

Saturday came and went. You only left your apartment to visit the nearest drugstore for a new compression bandage and more pain medication. Sunday passed by just the same. You skipped your normal spin class and barely spent time outside of your bed.

The pain in your hand was growing worse and worse. You had to use your left hand to send Sam and your manager messages - because even just moving your right hand made your stomach swirl. And the guilt about not responding to Bucky was growing bigger and bigger too.

How could you explain it? Boone had pressed your buttons and you pushed back and look what happened. How could Bucky be proud of you now?

Your phone had buzzed mid afternoon, just after you were supposed to be doing your session with Sam.

It was Bucky - worried and asking if you needed anything for whatever illness was plaguing you.

You ignored it.

When he called, you ignored that too.

You were balled up on the end of your couch, eyes glazed over as another episode of your favourite show loaded up on Netflix. You knew you needed to eat something, that the pain medication on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. But… you couldn’t get up. Laying perfectly still with a bag of frozen vegetables on your hand was the closest thing to relief you had.

Then, someone was knocking at your door. The noise made you gasp, though you couldn’t move. You could ignore the noise along with everything else. It was probably just your downstairs neighbour back to complain about your TV again and –

Whoever was at the door knocked again, this time calling out your name.

You recognized the voice.

Bucky.

He called your name out again. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re sick. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I grabbed some soup from that place I was telling you about.”

You sucked in a deep breath and pulled yourself up off the couch. You really, really wanted to see him - just the idea of his smile made everything feel a bit better. But then you couldn’t hide anymore and… hiding felt safe.

“I’m okay,” you finally replied as you got approached. “Feeling better but I might be contagious, Buck.”

You sensed some relief from him as his feet shuffled on the other side of the door. “Sweetheart, I.. I can’t even get sick, okay? I just need to see you.”

“My apartment is a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bucky, I’m.. I’m not at my best right now.”

“I don’t care.” He said your name once more. “Please.”

You pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt then reluctantly reached for the door knob.

---

When you finally opened the door, Bucky was relieved. But when you immediately turned away to return to your couch without a word, his relief felt misplaced. Something was wrong. Your sudden weekend illness and dropping out of the new job training weren’t adding up to anything that felt good.

He was worried.

Bucky had never been inside your apartment before. There were a handful of occasions after work or some happy hour thing when he dropped you off but this was new. He liked the idea of seeing your home but he wished it had been different circumstances.

Home was a little studio, with a compact kitchen ahead of him across from the door. Beside it was a cozy living room area separated from the bed and windows, divided by a short bookcase. It was so very you and Bucky wanted nothing more than to just be there with you, scan over the books you like and curl up together on the couch.

But it wasn’t the time to daydream. Instead, he stepped into the kitchen to deposit the takeout bag, retrieving the soup before moving to where you were curling back up in your blankets.

“How are you feeling?” He took another step closer but stopped when you leaned away from his approach. He took a seat opposite you and extended the container in your direction.

“Yeah, I’m.. okay,” you replied with a shrug. “Thanks for the soup.” You took it from him, reaching across yourself awkwardly with a shaking hand, and rested it on your lap.

He took the moment of silence to get a better look at you. Behind your glasses, your eyes were swollen, as if you had been crying. Bucky watched you carefully maneuver the spoon and it wasn’t lost on him you were favouring your left hand. In fact, your right arm was barely moving.

“Do you need anything else? I could run to the pharmacy..” He trailed off as his eyes shifted to your coffee table, which was littered with an array of pill bottles. Mostly painkillers and what looked like a melting bag of frozen peas. And tucked under the table was… a half empty bottle of wine. Not exactly the type of self medication for a stomach bug or the common cold.

You closed your eyes, taking another taste of the soup before gently moving it to the table. “I think the worst of it has passed. Just.. tired now, I guess. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” You smiled, just barely, then it disappeared as your eyes shut.

Bucky considered that the perfect opportunity to change the subject. Your name left his lips. It was quiet. You peaked one eye open to look at him.

“What happened last week?” he asked.

You laughed, though it came out quite empty. “Just five very intense, rigorous training days. I wasn’t great but.. I managed, I guess.”

Bucky cut to the chase, though he couldn’t predict your reaction. “So how come you’re not doing the final evaluation?”

A long sigh escaped you, rolling your eyes before leaning back again. You stared at the ceiling. “Should I just start adding you to all my correspondence with Sam?”

“Don’t be mad at Sam,” Bucky replied. “I asked him and he only told me because he was worried.”

You laughed again, with more of your body. The same emptiness remained and this time it seemed to cause you pain. You winced, swallowing an uncomfortable look on your face as you turned to peer at him. “I’m not mad at Sam. I’m mad at..” You shook your head. “At myself, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? It’s over and I missed today and–”

“Sam offered to resch–”

“Bucky, it doesn’t matter!” You snapped this time, cutting him off.

Bucky shook his head. Something else was going on. He had never seen you like this before - despondent and… broken. Sure, your friendship had rarely escaped the walls of work but the foundation between you both was solid. He had seen your ups and downs, and you had seen his too - recalling bad dates and ranting about missions and laughing over lunch and all of it.

He knew you. The person sitting across from him, it wasn’t you.

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s going on.”

Your eyes were closed again, head shaking. “Nothing is..” Your lip trembled. “Maybe you should just go..”

Bucky stood from the couch, but he didn’t move to the door. Instead, he crouched right in front of you. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go, okay? I’d never stay if you didn’t want me here. But you opened that door for me. You could have already sent me away, soup in hand. I’m here right now because I care about you.” He said your name again, like a plea for you to look at him. “I can help, okay? Whatever is going on, I can help. Let me help, please.”

Your breath picked up, intertwined with winces of pain as you adjusted on the couch. You crossed your legs then moved your arms carefully, using your left hand to tear away your sweatshirt. Finally, you opened your eyes and extended your right arm to Bucky.

Despite being wrapped in a compression bandage, the swelling was evident on your fingers. Bruises littered your hand too and continued upwards to your t-shirt line.

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking from your face down towards your arm. He whispered out your name, desperately trying not to fill in the blanks without getting more information from you. “What happened?”

You simply shook your head, swallowing whatever response was trying to escape.

“Can I–” He motioned to your hand, cautiously reaching for it. You didn’t move, allowing him to unwrap the bandaging. You winced at the touch and change in pressure, eyes clamping shut again as you breathed deeply.

Bucky skated his fingers along the side of your forearm, down towards your wrist and hand. Light shades of purple and blue decorated your skin but the swelling was what concerned Bucky the most.

“I’m worried something is broken.” You finally said quietly, letting out another groan of pain as Bucky flipped your hand over to assess the underside.

He wanted to reply with ‘yeah, no shit’ but figured that wouldn’t be helpful. If you hadn’t sought out medical attention by now, there was probably a good reason. You were smart, a nurse who could easily figure out her own symptoms. But something was stopping you. Embarrassment, guilt.. Maybe fear?

Bucky was gentle as he held your hand. Christ, his mind was racing. “What happened? Did you fall? Did something go wrong last week?”

You shook your head.

Although there was one giant fucking obvious glaring answer to his next question, Bucky wanted to hear your response. Maybe you had fallen or dropped something on it this weekend. Maybe you had crushed it between a door or something, anything else than someone hurting you. Because the thought of anyone doing that, inflicting any intentional harm –

Bucky sucked in a breath and looked back at you. Your lower lip was already trembling again. He had to ask. He didn’t want to, but he fucking had to.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

“I should have walked away, Bucky. I..” You immediately trailed off, head shaking again as you tried to collect yourself.

With you, Bucky would be patient. He would always be patient. A few moments ticked by as he waited, still holding your injured hand in his.

“It was supposed to just be a routine scenario, a test sort of thing I guess. But he was… he was volcanic. The anger erupted and he - he.. Bucky, I was just doing my job, it’s not my fault his friends lost theirs an-and he got so mad. I tried to get away but he just kept going.”

He said your name quietly. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?” You did, breathing in tandem with him a few times as you steadied yourself. “You’ve gotta tell me a name, please.”

After another deep breath, you nodded. “It was Boone.” You closed your eyes. “I think he’s taking drugs, steroids–again and he just.. I shouldn’t have engaged him at all. And I tried to get away once I realized he was freaking out..”

Bucky stilled, lips pulled into a straight line. “Hey, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.” God, he wanted to say so much more but the simmering anger below the surface was bubbling up. And that wasn’t important. You needed an x-ray and real medical attention. Then, maybe he could face the rage coursing through his bones. “Sweetheart, we’ve gotta get this looked at, okay?”

Reluctantly, your head shook. “I know. I just.. I don’t want to have to go to urgent care and explain what happened. I should have already gone and I feel so stupid about the whole thing and-and–”

He placed his free hand on your knee to stop you. “Okay. It's okay. I think I know where we can go. Let me make a few phone calls.”

---

PART 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective bucky barnes #story: electric touch

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

id love a fic of aaron hotchner with a reader who struggles with feeling interesting or desirable!! i love your work sm you're lovely!!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

The table grain is flaking off under your nail. Oh, ew, you think, lips turning down into a frown. You pick at your nail, wonder if that’s disgusting, and hide your hands under the table rather than continue to scratch it apart.

The team are talking about their weekend plans. You’re not super hungry and these conversations tend to put you off either way; faced with the smallness of your own life outside of them, you waver in a tepid mix of jealousy and insecurity. There’s no point offering your plans. Compared to them, it’ll sound strange.

Morgan’s buying a house. Reid’s going to a University for a private seminar given by one of the country’s leading geneticists. Hotch will be spending the weekend with his family, hopefully teaching Jack how to swim. It goes on and on and on. They all have interests and people and things to do, and you’ll be tucking yourself into bed to try and forget you don’t.

Hotch glances at you again, the fourth time in as many minutes. You decide to pretend you’ve only noticed this time rather than having felt every look, turning your face subtly to his.

You okay? he asks without speaking, his eyebrows raised a touch, his gaze searching.

You smile easily. You’re practised in this.

He reaches under the table for your thigh. Your breath catches, your face squared into hopeless unaffectedness as he rubs your knee. Things with him are achingly new, months and months of wanting and now weeks of getting to have it, but perhaps that’s why you’re feeling your inadequacy so harshly. Why does he want to touch you? Forget interesting, you aren’t interesting, and you certainly aren’t pretty.

He gives your knee a gentle shake as he rubs your leg through your pants, as though saying, I’m here, or even cheer up.

You smile down at your plate. I’m fine.

“Time to turn in,” Hotch says, dropping his napkin onto his plate.

Your head snaps up to look at him, worried you’ve pissed him off and missing the heat of his hand, but he’s holding his hand out toward you in such a way that you read him. Come with me.

“Me too,” you say. “I’m tired.”

You’re not even halfway down the hall out of the hotel restaurant when he’s grabbing you from behind, a huge hug that surprises you into loud, loud laughter. “Hotch–”

“Try again.”

“Aaron,” —he walks you a few dragging steps to an alcove, where he turns you, holding your waist— “this is brute force!” You laugh.

“This is concern. What’s wrong?”

He’s trying to be the cheerful one. It’s working, some, but it adds another layer to your self-doubt; your grumpy, sweetheart boyfriend is never not smiling when he’s alone with you. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Nothing,” you say, laughing again as he squeezes your hip meanly. “It’s brute force!”

“You’re a liar,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “My liar, but a liar. A bad one, considering.”

“Yes, well, all the teasing is making it better, so thanks.”

He kisses under your jaw. He feels encompassingly tall, and his affection makes you feel better no matter how much you’d wanted to be sullen. You lean heavily against the wall and let him kiss you, your hand coming up to his hair, fingers raking through the soft crop of inky hair at his neck. “You’re sulking,” he says between kisses, shivers at your back from his eager touching.

“I’m boring.”

“Where might you get that idea?”

“I have nothing to do this weekend. When we get home, I have nothing to do but lie in bed.”

“I wish that was my weekend.” He peels back. He doesn’t hold your face, but the way he looks at you has the same effect. So strange how he can make you feel cared for in such a simple action. “You can always come with me, hm? We’ll have the weekend together. Jack won’t mind.”

“Thank you… it’s a nice offer.” You’ll take it.

“But not the problem.” He’s standing close enough to get you in trouble should a teammate come from the restaurant after you. Still, he stays close, the very tips of his fingers pushing against the hem of your shirt to touch the naked small of your back. “Will you come over?” he asks in a murmur.

“I’d love to,” you say honestly. “I just wish I was more interesting.”

Your confession makes him frown. “In what world aren’t you?”

“This one.”

“That’s not true. You’re interesting, you’re so smart. You’re lovely.”

You turn your face from him, heart beating a sudden pitter patter. He turns you right back to him with a finger to your chin.

“You’re everything,” he says.

“But I feel so… nothing.”

His frown intensifies. “How long have you been feeling like this, honey? You could’ve told me. I wish you’d told me, because–” He pinches your chin gently, encouraging you to meet his eyes, “I would’ve told you a long time ago that you’re not nothing, you couldn’t be. It’s easy to feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, at your age–”

“Careful.”

“It’s true. You think you’re so old, but you have time.”

“I’m not old,” you acquiesce.

His hand moves to your cheek. “But you have so many frown lines.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of you, Hotchner. We’re done.”

He raises his other hand to hold your face completely. “You are so, so amazing. You just need to recognise it in yourself.”

You wait for him to kiss you, and then realise what he’s doing. “Maybe I'm amazing,” you say shyly.

He kisses you on the lips, gentle, as though you were easily breakable. A little rougher when you smile, and rougher again when you touch his chest. “We’ll get caught,” he says, planting another quick one on you before pulling away. “Come on. Let’s get a head start on the weekend.”

“We’ll definitely get caught,” you say. Sharing a room is always a stupid idea.

“And what a shame it’ll be,” he says, taking your hand to rub your fingers affectionately as he leads you toward the elevators.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year ago

Text

fem plus size bimbo ta!reader, wc: 639.

a/n: hi hi hi @deadbolted!! so i hope you don't mind but i changed the reader from being a student to being a teacher's assistant! this whole fic turned out to be very sweet and i appreciate your request! :]

You stare at the professor in amazement, your chin resting on your palms as you watch his lithe hands grade papers with a swiftness you could never obtain.

“I like that you know stuff.” You murmur mindlessly, your eyes tracing the path of the red ink until the paper was stained with a 98%.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer asks with a tiny smile on his face, his focus still on the tests in front of him.

If he was going to be honest, you were supposed to be helping him grade said papers, seeing as though he had chosen you to be his teacher's assistant. It wasn't that you were dumb per se, just more… prone to distraction. He was pretty sure it was his fault if the heart eyes you were giving him was anything to go by.

Usually unwanted affection would make Spencer uncomfortable, but there was just something about you that piqued his interest.

You didn't throw yourself at him or flirt shamelessly. Of course you fawned over him and he pretended he didn't hear the soft whisper of your voice squealing about how handsome he looked in his suit combo – which was something Spencer had been kind of unsure about when he had put it on in the morning.

“Mm-hm.” You hummed. “I think it’s cool.” Spencer could almost laugh, but he didn’t, instead his bottom lips rolled between his teeth to hold back a large smile. “I teach seminars, I kind of have to know stuff.”

“Whatever,” You respond with a shrug. “You still know more than me.”

That stopped Spencer’s scribbling, the man’s eyes now fully settling on you. The movement was unexpected and it caused you to flinch slightly, your gaze that was once fiercely set on him fluttered in a way that signaled you were flustered.

“I’m going to have to disagree.” His voice was almost a whisper and your faces were a lean away. “Really?” You asked brainlessly, your tone almost breathless sounding. “Really. I think you’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.” Your cheeks heat and your eyes fall on his beard that is growing darker and thicker with each passing day. Then, they trail towards his lips.

“I- I don’t know.” Your tense shoulders loosen and you pull away. “Hey, no, don’t do that.” He chides softly. Spencer leans his head down in an attempt to search for your eyes. “I swear that I’m not lying. I’ve seen some of the work you’ve done for other classes, and you are brilliant.”

“You promise?” You ask meekly. “Yeah,” He nods. “I promise.”

There was a beat, then two, then three, before Spencer found himself leaning down and gently brushing his lips against yours.

You freeze and for a moment he fears that he may have read the situation wrong, but then you press into him, your lips finally locking. It’s not hungry or urgent, just sweet and experimental, mouths moving unsurely to try to find a pace that’s right for the both of you.

Sure this was wrong, so very wrong, but if you ask Spencer there’s a lot of things wrong about his life, and for the first time since his imprisonment, this is the only thing that actually felt right.

Your hands shyly place themselves on his stubbled cheeks, his own hands reaching up to do the same. His thumbs paw at your cheeks when he tilts his head to side slightly, his tongue brushing your bottom lip asking you for entrance.

Your mouth opens up shyly and your tongues dance together languidly, and you pull away when a small moan bounces between you.

You both are breathing heavily – quietly – all the while still holding each other.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he’ll figure it out.

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dontexpectmuch · 12 days ago

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jude bellingham x reader he knows that you like him, and even though he does not reciprocate your feelings, he simply can't stay away from you - giving you false hope over and over again, until... well, until you decide to move on.

you always had a soft spot for Jude, ever since the two of you met and became good friends, you quickly realized that saying 'no' to him would never be an option.

you first met through a mutual friend back in germany, gio reyna, whom you met because of your university course and such. it was a pure coincidence, you just needed something from him and went to pick it up after he had finished training, and that is where you first met him - jude bellingham.

it wasn't all cinematic, no emotion came crushing down on you when your eyes first met. instead, it was quiet, creeping up from behind, lurking in the shadows and gently taking a hold of you until you couldn't fight it off any longer.

what first began with a harmless follow request on instagram, later evolved into exchanging numbers and talking on a daily basis.

while you worked on your seminar presentations, jude would simply hit you up with a message, asking whether you wanted to hang out with him and a few friends or not. you were a studious person, pushing back your presentation wouldn't be bad, just for a night.

perhaps that is when you should have noticed it, that giddiness, that weird feeling in your stomach and the deep breaths you took every now and then, trying to calm your nerves- from what, you didn't know back then. now, you are aware, though it doesn't matter anymore.

you knew that jude was, or well, still is, a handsome guy, anyone with functioning eyes could tell that much. you were also well aware how popular he was with the ladies; charming smile, British accent, his big, sparkling eyes and the respectful stance he had whenever he talked to someone was enough to sweep anyone off their feet - even you.

so, when the evening you decided to meet up arrived, your hands nervously dancing along the hem of your shirt, eyes darling around the bar, searching for his broad figure, you were met with a gut that shouldn't have shocked you as much as it did back then.

it was stupid, really, getting hurt by such sight. him being surrounded by a few stunning women, who were definitely older than him, not that jude cared, apparently. young, handsome, and successful, who wouldn't want to indulge in that?

but you bit through, you still had a great time with your, actually his, friends, got a few new connections and talked with jude as well, though it wasn't as long as you wished.

a beat, and suddenly you found yourself being friends with jude for a year already, and you still could not decline whenever he invited you out, only to not pay you any attention. you had told your friends about the situation, though you never mentioned it was the young bvb star you had a bright future ahead of him. and your best friend would always tell you to get your shit together, to realize how badly you were being treated and that you deserved better.

but they didn't know him - not in the way that you did! he wasn't like that, no. because at least once during the evenings you spent together, he comes up to you, broad smile and pearly whites flashing, his arms inviting you for a hug. then, he'd ask you about your day, tell you something about his, and would always, always, hype you up if you felt insecure about your studies. because that's who he is, one of the kindest people ever.

you couldn't tell when he knew, you couldn't even tell when you did. but somehow along the lines, perhaps during one of your outings, he must have come to the very true conclusion that, oh, would you look at that - you liked him. even more than as just a friend.

you guess that is why he started to invite you out even more, though for the most bizarre reasons ever; he needed someone to pick him up from the club in the middle of the night, and he'd contact you.

at first you told yourself that it was due to the fact that he trusted you, more than anyone. a sweet lie, you chuckle as you think back to that time. how nervous you felt, trying your very best to look good even though he was wasted and wouldn't even look at you, too tired to keep his eyes open.

and that was how it always played out; he would call you if he needed someone to drive him somewhere, called you when he was bored and his other friends were too busy to hang out, called you because you always said 'yes'.

jude wasn't a bad person, he was still one of the kindest people you knew, even if he treated you as a last resort, he'd still keep the conversation going, still laughed and joked around with you, made you feel appreciated, he genuinely did!

you just wished that he would perhaps invite you to a game, give you his shirt to wear as you would watch him run around the field. you'd never lift your eyes off of him, you would dedicate so much to him.

he simply didn't care, you assume now. you can remember it as if it was just yesterday, when he told you that he invited someone else to a very important game.

"yeah, we went on a few dates, she also wants to watch me play." jude chuckled, growing as he stretched his arms to loosen up some tension built in his shoulders, "i'll try to score and dedicate it to her, bet she'll fall for me then."

and all you could do was muster up a smile, praying that it was convincing enough, all while you felt your heart slowly crumble down inside of you, scratching along your flesh.

you didn't cry, no, you weren't that sensitive, you guess. but it still hurt, watching him just move on with his life, looking at everyone with a certain interest, everyone but you.

that was when the self doubt came nagging on your ears, then moving up to your mind, ugly nails clinging along your head. it served as a constant reminder that he would never give you the chance you deserved - you deserved him.

you always helped him, never declined any of his offer! who else, if not you, could stand by his side and support him through thick and thin?

though, it seems to be true that even the most passionate among us could lose their spark. even if you still hoped him whenever he asked for help, you found yourself caring less and less about your appearance. suddenly, whenever his name popped up in your notifications, instead of your heart speeding up, you began to sigh in exhaustion, sitting your eyes to calm yourself before you answered.

and even though you still could never say 'no' to him, you found another way to not jump at any request he sent your way - you simply ignored his messages. or well, you muted them, causing you to see his messages hours after he had sent them.

your friends must have also noticed the shift in your attitude towards that guy you liked, because all of a sudden, you'd agree to meet up with them to go out for some drinks, something you usually had declined in case that jude called for you.

you even flirted with some guy, enjoying the attention that you had sought from another previously. even though you didn't want anything serious to happen with that guy, and as mean and selfish as it sounds, the attention you got from him that night boosted your confidence quite a bit. it made you realize that you were never the problem to begin with.

all these negative emotions, all the doubts, all the self consciousness you felt back then comes rushing down at you as you find yourself standing in front of a confused jude.

yo can't explain how he has found you, since you are still on university grounds, but that isn't the main focus of the situation you are currently in.

there he is, looking as handsome as ever, fresh trim and comfortable clothes, his eyes narrowed down at you.

"what is wrong with you?" he demands, the respectful tone you once oh so liked seemed to be gone.

flatly, "what?"

you have better things to do now, and if he couldn't get to his pint properly, you simply would walk away.

your eyes watch him as he takes a deep breath, as if to calm himself before he speaks up, "I called you so many times, yesterday, the day before. is your phone broken? want me to get you a new one?"

you don't know if it is to provoke him, or simply just to show it to him, but you hold your phone up, waving it slightly, "nope, still in tact."

that seems to anger him, "then why," he starts, voice falling deep, "why aren't you answering whenever i call you-"

"exam season, i'm kinda busy, you know?"

"too busy to talk for five minutes?"

"I guess."

he scoffs, hands placed on his hips, "i got some news, and, yeah. i guess you'd like to know."

of course, you did. you always do, but you don't want to fall into the same pattern that ate you up those last years. so, instead of saying anything, you decide to keep quiet, though your eyes are still focused on him, as if to tell him to continue.

he picks up your demand, "i'm transferring to madrid, i'll be moving next week."

you know you promised yourself to be nonchalant, you really try, but after hearing the new, you feel your mouth dry up.

your eyes widen slightly, and your throat seems to close up as well.

fucking...

"oh," you clear your throat, "well, uh, congrats! you always wanted to play there."

even though you genuinely meant it, it seems like your words madden jude more than ever, "that's it? 'congrats'?"

"what else do you want me to say? do you want me to cry and beg you to stay here?"

jude turns his head to the side, briefly closing his eyes. his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek, and it looks like he tries his very best to stay calm, as if he couldn't believe what you just have said to him.

"why are you being like this?" is what he asks instead, now looking back at you.

this time, it is you who scoffs, not believing what you are hearing right now, "listen, i am genuinely happy for you, jude-"

"oh, so now we are back to first name basis, huh?" he interrupts, saying your name in a tone colder than you have ever witnessed.

whatever.

you continue, not in the mood to go along with his tantrum, "i am happy for you, and will always support you, but - yeah. i, uh, i gotta now, i have a date-"

"with whom?" he interrupts once again, but you don't care anymore.

"so, i guess i'll see you? maybe? yeah." you nod, whether it is to convince him or yourself, you don't know. but you have to leave right now, or else you might break down and yell at him.

without even looking at him, you force a smile, turn your head away and continue your walk towards the library, like you have had initially planned before jude cut you off.

the tension creeps to your shoulders, the books in your arms suddenly heavier than ever.

that hurt more than you'd like to admit.

but, it's too late anyway.

-----------

i am in love with my hot italian literature lecturer. like,,, yeah <3

didn’t proofread!!!!

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #dontexpectmuch

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 3 months ago

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didn’t realize this was the liberal arts

Jason goes to college. You’re there. And then you show up in his nightlife, which throws him for a loop.

I wish I could tell you what this is but I can’t. i set out to write a meet cute. that's not what happened. Jason is a sad little dude. You’re in one of his college classes, but don’t get the idea that you’re nice about it.

Swearing as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is.

Edit: whoops, it's a series. rest of it is here

————

Jason’s trying.

He is. He’s taking the tattered remains of his life and trying to shove them together, mash them into something liveable. Or at least, manageable. Something he can stand to survive.

It’s difficult. He rose from the Pit with a brain that didn’t quite work, didn’t crank like his half forgotten memories told him it did when he was fifteen. He couldn’t string two thoughts together, couldn’t make the synapses fire. Nothing at the helm but the searing pain he brought with him when he woke up, telling his heart to pulse just to find something to do about the feelings of rage and despair that submerged him.

Which, of course, led him to his stupid plan to kill Bruce.

It didn’t work. And it wouldn’t have helped anyway.

His head finally cleared when the dust settled. It dawned on him that he was blessed (ha) with a new lease on life, or something, and he should probably act like it. He should probably get off his ass and make the most of it.

He ends up doing the only things he knows how to do. Jason patrols and goes back to school to get his GED.

The fighting is obvious. He’s lead with his teeth his whole life, he’s not about to start pulling punches now. And a little purpose never hurt anyone, he figures. It helps, most of the time.

More surprising is how much Jason enjoys going back to school. It had started as a passing thought, but he’d forgotten how much he missed it, the freedom to relax and let his mind whir in circles. Bruce had given him the stability to clear his head and focus in the classroom, and he’d soaked everything up like a sponge. When he goes back he discovers, much to his delight, that he’s actually alright in the head. The lights are on, thank god, and soon enough learning comes easy to him, just like it did when he was a teenager. What a relief, to have that back.

He finishes out the GED and figures what the hell, he might as well keep going, and enrolls himself in Gotham U. He is, he realizes, fulfilling a long-lost dream he’d spun for himself back when he was living on the streets. It makes him quietly satisfied, and he pushes through his first semester.

So this is where he is. He comes home at 4am, showers, sleeps for a few hours, then wakes up for class. Dick calls every other week, Barbara patches herself into the line in his helmet without his permission, and he ignores them both. He registers for a course on seventeenth century literature and reads don Miguel de Cervantes, and Margaret Cavendish, and Shakespeare, of course, but also Galileo, which is fun. He brings his books to class, he makes notes in the margins. He searches the authors’ lives on Wikipedia and tries to make text to world connections, just like he learned in school. He looks around the table at the other students and reckons with the fact that they are not, and will never be, like him. Or rather, Jason is not like them. They’re younger, for one thing, but also infinitely more innocent, which feels stupid to say, but it’s true. Whatever they’ve had happen in their uniform lives is absolutely nothing compared to his, and Jason can put that right in his pipe and smoke it for all the good it’ll do him. But he can’t help thinking it, as he eyes them carefully. There is a chasm separating him from them a mile wide, and that’s all there is to it. He’s not like them. Not like you.

You sit next to him, sometimes. You smile at him briefly as you sit down, then remain silent. You don’t speak often, which is notable in a small seminar. Not that Jason does either. A few weeks in he realizes you speak once per class, unless asked a direct question. Your comments are always summarizing, reminding others of the various ideas discussed and offering options of where to go next. It is immensely helpful when you direct traffic like this, and the discussion tends to be clearer after you speak. He peeks at your copy of Paradise Lost spread open under your fingers to find neat little notes, passages underlined, a few question marks. You’re never late, and you always thank the professor before you leave.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he finds you after dark, kicking the shit out of his perp.

You don’t hear him approach, climbing into the man’s apartment with a thud as he realizes someone had started his work for him. He thinks he recognizes you from behind, except that would be crazy, so it can’t be you. What would a university student be doing here? Jason doesn’t count.

It can’t be you, but he’s not sure, so he clears his throat to interrupt. You look at him over your shoulder with a look of such savagery he almost takes a step back.

Yeah. That’s you. Huh.

The cognitive dissonance threatens to give him a migraine. You look him up and down, raise an eyebrow, then turn back to the man lying on the floor and deal him another blow. The man groans, which doesn’t faze you, but Jason snaps to attention.

“I gotta question him.” It’s true, Jason thinks this man has intel on Black Mask’s dealers.

You whirl back around. “That doesn’t seem like it’s my fucking problem.”

Holy shit. Who the fuck are you, anyway?

“Listen, princess,” he begins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. This is the first time he’s spoken to you, and it amazes him that he’s doing through the modulator. “I got shit to do here, you gotta get out of the way.” You try to slam onto his foot, then recoil, hissing in pain. “Steel-toed, sweetheart, that won’t get you anywhere.”

“What do you even need to know?” you ask furiously. “You target Black Mask, right? You’re wondering if Black Mask is his supplier? He is, there’s checks on the table.” You nod to a modest desk in the corner.

Okay. Yeah, he did want to know that. “Thanks, princess, but I’ll take it from here.”

You wrest yourself from his grip. “No,” you say stubbornly, “I’m not done.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jason eyes the perp, realizing he’d fallen unconscious. Shrugging, he turns to the desk. You’d clearly gone through it, receipts and bills are littered on the table, but there’s a locked cabinet you hadn’t opened. Kneeling, Jason takes out his lockpick.

He keeps an eye on you as he goes to work. You haven’t left, although he’s not sure where you would go, or even what you’re doing here. You watch him warily, folding your arms over your chest. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually the lock clicks, and he slides the drawer open. It’s pretty bare, mostly cash and, aha, a notebook that’s gotta be important.

He holds it for less than a second before you rip it from his fingers, moving across the room and flipping the book open. He grunts in surprise and follows you, only to find himself with a glock in his face.

Instinct tells him to draw his own weapon, and his hand drops to his hip, but he forces himself to freeze. You’re definitely a civilian, despite whatever the fuck you get up to in your free time. You’re not dressed in any kind of practical gear, just a loose fitting sweatshirt and leggings. Jason scouts you out and realizes that the gun in your hand probably isn’t even yours, you don’t have a place to put it. You must have disarmed the perp before Red Hood had gotten there. Jason files that away for later.

“Let me look,” you demand, and Jason nods. You keep the gun on him, holding the notebook open with one hand and studying it intently. It is so like the image of you in class that he almost laughs out loud. Whatever you’re looking for, you clearly find it, and you mouth something over and over, memorizing it. Then you shut the notebook and hold it out to him.

He takes it cautiously. “You need a ride out of here?”

You roll your eyes. “No thanks, dipshit,” and with that you shimmy through the window and bolt down the fire escape.

Jason blinks. Okay.

He follows you anyway, watching from the rooftops as you make your way across town. It takes you a long time, nearly an hour, and Jason worries that something nasty’s gonna go down, but it doesn’t. You trek resolutely across the city, same steady pace, before letting yourself into a nondescript apartment building, an easy bus ride to the campus. He stays for about twenty minutes, but you stay put.

Jason raps a gun against his helmet. Weird.

He tries and fails to wrap his head around it as he finishes out the evening. It’s just not adding up. Jason doesn’t know you well from class, obviously, but you’re such a far cry from what he saw tonight that it’s hard to believe. He’ll have to do some research, he decides, scope out what else you do besides studying and beating up on Jason’s bad guys. Maybe he’ll even ask you about it in class.

He laughs to himself as he heads back to his own apartment. Weird weird weird. Weird performance you gave him, weird enough to keep him up at night. Oh well. You don’t know it, but he’ll see you tomorrow.

————

lol what is this? what is this? a series, hopefully. otherwise I have no freakin’ idea

#teeth writes #jason todd x reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd

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woncon · 3 months ago

Text

➳ black boots

➶ poly! fem!stray kids x gn!reader (hyunbinilix focus)｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ You have a freshly bought pair of black boots, a date night, a short girlfriend and a plan.

➴ genre: poly, slice of life, non-idol au, college/university au, domestic fluff, estabilished relationship

: ̗̀➛ warnings: suggestive themes, petnames & nicknames, reader adoring their girlfriends (literally falling for one of them)

: ̗̀➛ the name changes: chris = christine; changbin = chaebin; felix = felicity; minho = minhee/mina; the gender-neutral names (jisung, seungmin, jeongin, hyunjin) are the same.

⌨ :: 4k words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ hi!! this is the first time i wrote with fem!skz, and i loved 👏 every 👏 second 👏 of it. in this one-shot not every lady pops up, and the focus is mainly on hyunjin, felicity, chaebin and the reader. however, in the future i would really like to go deeper into this au and put together a plot that includes the others as well, their dynamic and stuff.❤️

⁀➷ also, thanks for @wonsheep for betaing! 💓

➳ mlist

The hall carpet is covered with shoes. Running shoes, casual shoes, winter boots. Seungmin's small and large studded boots. In the next box you find rest Minhee's red, pointy heels, nothing to do with the black boots you're desperately searching for. And to be fair, it's quite funny that you find their shoes, who don't even live here, before you find your own.

You sigh in frustration and sit down on your heels. Fewer and fewer boxes remain, and with them less and less hope of finding them before you have to go on the date.

“Wait a minute!” Felicity, who came to your rescue about half an hour ago, pulls out a pair of boots. These seem to be the ones you're looking for, but the feeling immediately passes. Yours have laces, and they're not that high.

“These are Binnie's platform boots,” you identify them. Another pair of shoes from someone who also doesn't live here.

Your girlfriend takes a closer look at the two pieces. “Oh. Sorry.”

“You couldn't have known. I bought it over the weekend, I don't think anyone's seen it yet, just the box. It has a brown box and I remember putting it here.” You pat the closet door. “Right. Here.”

You already took everything you could from that drawer. No black boots, just the closet mockingly gaping at you.

“What if someone accidentally put it on?” Felicity suggests. “Hyune was late for her Picasso seminar today. Maybe she picked up the first thing she could get her hands on and ran for the bus.”

“In that case, she would have left the box at home, right?” You also remember that Hyunjin is in the bathroom. "And she would have taken it off since then."

“You’re right…”

You lean your palm on the forest of shoes and kiss Felicity's cheek where the freckles are the densest. "It's okay, Lissy. I'll find it someday. If not today, I'll pull something else. I'll borrow one of Minnie's boots, for example. There's so much here. Wow.”

“But you were so excited to put it on!” She gives your wrist a dedicated squeeze. “We'll find it, and you'll come in it, and everyone will be at your feet.”

You smile and laugh at that, because that's partly what you're aiming for with the shoes. You want to impress somebody. The fact that Felicity's noticed just proves how much she understands.

“We're going to interview everyone and go through Bin unnie's apartment and Minnie's dorm. This isn’t brownie to vanish without a trace.”

“What if the shoe fairy took it?” you ask.

Felicity narrows her eyes menacingly in response, her voice tinglingly deep. “Then I'll find her, grab her wings, and stick Mina unnie’s high heels up her ass.”

Just the visual image alone makes you grimace. “Ouch.”

"If she's been messing with you, she deserves it," she shrugs.

After finding out that Hyunjin doesn't know anything about the shoes, you make a phone call. Jisung, who also lives with you but spent the weekend at the Christine-Minhee-Chaebin trio's apartment, has nothing of substance to say either, other than that she's on her way home. One more call and it turns out it wasn't the shoe fairy who took your boots, but Jeongin.

“I wanted to make sure to pick the right shades for your date outfits. Chaebin unnie had an idea for pants and I had to see if they matched your shoes. I forgot to tell you. When I bring over Lissy unnie's dress, I'll bring that too,” promises your enthusiastic, dedicated fashion guru, whose dorm room is probably in a similar mess as your hallway; your brought-over clothes scattered but carefully laid out everywhere.

“And did Binnie see it?” you ask.

“I was careful, baby. It was in the box the whole time. And she'll be wearing sneakers like you wanted.”

"You're an angel, Innie," you say gratefully, breaking the line.

Felicity frowns. She heard it all, she just doesn't understand. But she waits in vain for an explanation. With a cryptic smile, you wink at her, then scramble to stretch your weary legs and pour motivation into yourself to put the shoe army back in the drawer.

///

As a final touch, you adjust your socks and check the laces. At last, everything is restored: the shoes you threw out are packed back in. You're wearing the clothes you had planned on wearing, complete with your new black boots.

“So?” you ask.

“Wow, that's big," Felicity says, surprised. “Until you’ve pulled it out, it looked smaller.”

“That's what she said," Jisung steps into the hallway with a waggle of her eyebrows. Felicity laughs and nudges her shoulder.

Then Jisung looks you up and down. So far she has unpacked and given a detailed account of her weekend. She hasn't had a chance to look at your date outfit yet, so she takes the time to do that before she takes a critical look at your shoes. “Sexy. You can stay.” Though she grins playfully, her expression exudes a kind of sincere affection and fascination that makes heat begin to bubble in your chest.

“You mean... at home?” In your mind, the afternoon, most of which you spent searching for shoes and the rest of which you spent in excited preparation, slowly rolls by in a series of images. Also, there was some serious planning going on this week, juggling daily schedules so that you could finally go on a longer date with some of your girlfriends, not just quick meetings during coffee breaks between meetings or classes. It would be silly to throw it all away.

"For real," Jisung nods vigorously. You're sure there are images flashing in her head too, just probably different ones, judging by the way her gaze stops at your thighs and how she bites her lip slightly. “You could stay, but you wouldn't stay clothed for long.”

..Okay. The others will understand that you're throwing everything away. They'd do the same if Jisung looked at them like that.

“No!” Jeongin, appearing on the doorstep, seems to be shouting at your thoughts. You flinch. She doesn't approach you, she stops next to Jisung and Felicity, but she's still quite intimidating, and you still get the impression that she's actually snapping at your thoughts. “No way, unnie. You don't have the right to corrupt my masterpiece yet.”

“Oh?”

“I've worked hard on the composition. For hours. The four of them will look wonderful together if you let them.”

“They'd look wonderful naked together too…” Jisung reports wistfully.

Jeongin sighs. She sighs with similar resignation when Doongie ruffles her cardigan. The sigh is exasperated, but the expression on her face is one of fascination. Love. "Unnie, please."

As Jeongin pleads with Jisung, you too are compelled to bear with yourself. Thanks to this, you remember one of the highlights of your evening, the one you've planned, when the footwear you've chosen really comes into its own, and thus, where the fire of desire has just flared inside you, it settles back to excitement.

Jisung snorts in surrender. “Fine, Innie-yah. I'll wait.” She blows out the air as if her lips were Pandora's box, and now all the horror has been set on its way.

“What's gotten into you, Hanie?” asks Felicity. She and Jisung are usually on the same wavelength, and easily understand each other's feelings. Sometimes they seem to read each other's minds. Now the blonde girl can't read the other either.

“Nothing extra,” she waves her hand, but at the same time she measures your body again with a dreamy expression. “Just a half-finished lyric about Y/nie's thighs and how nice it would be to die between them.” She bites her lower lip again. It's probably involuntary, but even if it's on purpose, you can't resent it. You love biting her as well, her lips always soft and sensitive under your teeth.

“Did you write it?” you wonder. It'd be surprising. It's not that Jisung doesn't like your thighs, she just doesn't write about them. To your knowledge, the last time Jisung wrote about legs was when she put the story of one of her iconic falls into song. The case involved a stuffed guitar case, the pavement and her untied shoelaces.

“It was written by someone who loves traffic and vehicle metaphors.”

Oh.

So Christine writes lyrics about your thighs. It makes you feel like a voyeur peeping through a curtainless window to see yourself on the other side. Christine between your thighs– the thought makes the skin on the back of your neck heat up. You stroke it with the palm of your hand, as if that will cancel out the hopeful flood of heat, the hot feeling that simply knowing Christine is fantasizing about you on scraps of paper has brought out in you.

There is something particularly flattering, sweetly special about being the love of artists.

“Muse?”

You raise your head. At the same time, Felicity, Jisung and Jeongin turn around like three curious meerkats. And Hyunjin giggles, realizing that she calls you all her muses. “Fee. Y/nie. Are you ready?”

“Fuck,” cries the blonde. “I forgot my lip gloss.” With that, she disappears inside the apartment to finish her make-up.

Meanwhile, Jeongin and Jisung make room for Hyunjin, and you look at her as if you're seeing her for the first time. She has her hair done up high, in a bun on the top of her head. Gold earrings jingle by her neck. Lips glowing red with lipstick. She's wearing a black, form-fitting dress and body-coloured stockings. There is no shoes on her feet, but as you're standing in the hallway, that's about to change soon.

It's so different from the Hyunjin emerging with brushes poked through her locks and paint-stained, frayed jeans on her way to the bathroom break from her studio or a flash of colour in the living room as she rushes to her university class. This Hyunjin stops now, or even stops time with her exuberant beauty, because time wants to delight in her too, and preserve her in this moment.

“Wow. You are…” Gorgeous. Amazing. Breathtaking, “wife material,” you whisper.

The next moment you're kneeling in front of her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongin put her hand to her mouth and Jisung's lips part.

“What are you doing?” asks Hyunjin, surprised. Like someone who doesn't dare to breathe.

Your knees are weak at the sight of her, that's the case. “I just... just, uh, can I help you put your shoes on?” You finally offer hopefully. “So your clothes don't wrinkle. Or– Or your stockings.”

Hyunjin gives you a gentle smile. “I want to wear my black patent leather shoes.”

While you take out said pair, Jisung and Jeongin come to their senses. The latter tries to pretend that she knew you were not serious or had different intentions than you seemed to, but she cannot speak. Jisung, on the other hand, is starting to indulge in a monologue.

“Damn, it was something, I mean I almost had a heart attack, and, and, well, actually it would have been a nice death, and I could see the drama before my eyes, because wow, how brutal would it be if Y/n wanted Chaebin's wife too–”

Hyunjin lifts her leg for you. Jisung decides to keep quiet and just be a spectator to the events. You slip the shiny-soled shoe onto Hyunjin's foot, and then, with deft movements, you buckle it. You repeat the procedure with the other leg. Hyunjin rewards your patient, dedicated work with a hand extended towards you. When you're done, she pulls you into a standing position.

“You look impressive too, you know. These boots really suit you. If I could, I'd paint you right here.”

You smile gratefully at her, and are happy to let her kiss your hand. The imprint of her lipstick remains on your skin, but it doesn't bother you in the least. You will wear it for the rest of the day like a precious jewel.

“I'm ready!” Felicity glides in like a cheerful blonde whirlwind in a cloud of vanilla perfume. Her pink, floral dress swirls with her as she presses a loud kiss to Jisung's cheek, then Jeongin's, and then strolls over to you in her sandals. “We're not late, are we?”

Although you spent many seconds during the ritual of putting on your retrieved shoes admiring her, you are not too surprised to find that you are not yet satiated by the sight of Felicity. Perhaps you never will be. At least you'll have the whole evening to watch her, and chat with her and the others about trivia or world affairs or whatever the mood brings. You just want to be with them, the rest is extra.

“If we were about to be late, I wouldn't look like this,” Hyunjin chuckles, hugging the younger one around the waist. “Don't worry.”

“Leave though,” Jeongin urges you. “And have a great time, ok?”

“Okay, Innie-yah, you'll be rid of us soon,” Hyunjin rolls her eyes, “and you'll have Jisung all to yourself.”

“Yikes,” says Jeongin with her arms crossed.

“Hey!”

Jisung's offended cry melts as Jeongin turns to her, kisses her cheek, and then walks into the apartment.

“Oh, oh. Yeah. Go ahead,” Jisung gives a thumbs up, and retreats. “Innie-yah, what are your plans? Are you going back to the dorm or are you staying?” You can still hear her hopeful echo.

Felicity rattles her keychain, with all its decorations. “Then let's go on a date!”

You click your heels together like you're Dorothy. Sadly, that won't magically get you all to the restaurant entrance. You have to get there on your two feet, the shoes feeling like stones tied to them. But you'll get used to it. You break them in, as Minhee would say, who has a penchant for breaking in high heels and other shoes. And as you break them in, you'll hold Felicity's soft little hand.

///

Once again, Chaebin has found a comfortable place. She had booked a table on the terrace. The golden glow of the light bulbs hanging above the tables is like stars stolen from the sky. The smell of meat frying on rich fat spreads. Clinking cutlery duets with the soft jazz that emanates from the space inside.

Stretching your neck, you search for a beautiful woman at a nearly empty table. It's not hard to spot a bored goddess among the many chattering table companions, playing with the rim of her wine glass and occasionally sighing deeply. What a sign.

The fact that your boots are taller doesn't save you from the sensation of falling. In fact, it makes you fall deeper into the heat of love.

Hyunjin doesn't need to signal that you have a reservation, because Chaebin waves vigorously as soon as she spots you. Boredom melts off her face instantly, and she slaps the surface of the table with a wide grin, signalling, come here, please. She's always hungry and eager after a workout, but for now, she's only got the glass of wine in front of her.

“Have you ordered yet, wifey?” Hyunjin asks, taking a seat next to her. She rests her hand on the back of the seat and slides her legs over her thigh, and as you sit down you see the nose of her shoe brushing Chaebin's black denim-clad calf. Felicity sits next to you, facing them.

“Nothing on the menu was as desirable as you,” Chaebin says with a grin. “Thank you for spending the evening with me.”

“C'mon, unnie,” Felicity snorts, reaching for the menu. “It's our pleasure.”

You try to find a comfortable position on the cushioned chair, while not taking your eyes off Chaebin.

She's like a spark of optimism. When you look at her, the world is a better place. And it's also so good to look at her: her simple, pink T-shirt, the way the soft, warm crocheted cardigan wraps around her arms and makes it look big compared to the wearer, hiding what muscles are really straining underneath; her hair falling freely; her sweet smile, her face glowing with life; the fading traces of love marks peeking out from under her shirt, around her collarbone.

“You planning on getting down on your knees again?” Hyunjin's innocent-sounding but devastating question interrupts the long moment you spend staring at Chaebin. You blink slowly, as if waking from a dream, but the flush is creeping rapidly up your skin, covering your face in a hot wave.

“Excuse me, but what?” Chaebin elbows on the table and leans closer to you, eager for you to share anything and everything. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes of hers now look only at you, and you would never do anything to make that light fade or die. You want it to shine always. And you know that Chaebin would never judge you for what happened in the hallway, nor would she laugh derisively, so you're not afraid to open up to her.

You adjust the tablecloth with a faint smile. “I helped your wife put on her shoes. But you know her: she overdramatizes everything.”

Chaebin laughs. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. The laughter turns into a throat clearing. “The secret of our long marriage is that I don't blame her for her mistakes,” Chaebin announces with a serious expression, as if she's truly married to Hyunjin. Then she leans closer, intimately. “Another secret of our marriage is that it is open. Surprisingly open. So... Do you have plans for me too?”

You have many, many plans for this beautiful woman. So many, in fact, that they'll last you a lifetime. Even though you open your mouth, you can't make a sound. Felicity beats you to it.

“You're right,” she says. She holds the menu so high that Chaebin can only see the top of her head, not the conspirational wink she gives you.

Your blonde lover seems eager to help you with your plan.

“Really?” Chaebin tilts her head to the side. Hyunjin's interest is also piqued, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she could see into you with a squint, reading all your secrets like a cat. She learned this willingly and surely from Minhee. Or from one of your girlfriend's cats, the point is the same.

“You'll see,” you promise. “Today.”

“I can't wait, darling.”

A waiter approaches your table. You feel it's time to follow Felicity's example and take the menu to study it closely. Of course, you won't be able to do so as thoroughly as you have just immersed yourself in the beauty of Chaebin.

///

While Hyunjin and Chaebin are in the bathroom, Felicity reapplies her lip gloss. She parts her lips and watches her movements in her tiny handheld mirror, tracing the path of the pink glittering brush.

“How do you want to do it?” she asks as she closes the mirror with a flick and drops the make-up product into her bag.

Since she went on your shoe-finding tour with you, persistent and supportive, there's no reason to hide it from her. You share your plan with her, and she nods as she listens.

“I'll take Hyune up to the apartment. We won't disturb you.”

You blink in dismay. How can your lovers bother you when you're with one of them?

“This will be an intimate moment,” she explains. “And I feel it should be a moment for the two of you.” She gives you a committed look.

“As you wish, Lissy.”

Hyunjin returns. She picks up her small bag from the chair and props her chair up expectantly. As the three of you leave the table, Chaebin is stuffing the bill into the pocket of her sweater, holding the rest of the leftover boxes with her other hand.

“If you don't mind, we'll take you home to our place, pretty,” Felicity purrs to her, stroking Chaebin's side.

She doesn't mind.

You step up to help with the boxes. For the first time, you stand side by side with your black boots creating an even greater height difference between you. It's enjoyable, very much so.

“New shoes?” A look of surprise crosses her face.

“Do you like it?”

Chaebin nods in agreement, and you all make your way towards the exit.

///

Felicity easily manages to leave you and Chaebin behind. In fact, before she switches to a faster pace, she takes the boxes from both of you, while also dragging Hyunjin away, who has been whispering in Chaebin's ear with enthusiasm, making your girlfriend giggle sweetly. When Chaebin wants to hurry after them because she probably suspects gossip in the air, you speak up.

“Binnie, wait. I owe you a confession.”

The door slams shut behind Felicity and Hyunjin. It's just the two of you on the sidewalk, drenched in the streetlights.

“Oh, all right.”

Your girlfriend grins and doesn't move. You step in front of her, the nose of your boots kissing the nose of her shoes.

Chaebin must turn her head all the way up to look you in the eye. And oh dear– her eyes. So shiny. Maybe while you were walking under the open sky, stardust fell into it. Or an entire, endlessly glowing galaxy. In fact, there might be a whole galaxy hiding inside her body: strong muscles, bright emotions and a sweet laugh vibrating through the cosmos.

Woe to you. You want so badly to sweep her off her feet with your black boots that you let her pull the rug out from under you with her mere existence.

“I bought these shoes for you. To see you like this.”

She frowns.

“So,” you stroke her face with your free hand, “from this height. You're even more beautiful from here.”

“Excuse me, but we're talking about a few centimetres,” Chaebin's face flushes red, but she doesn't pull away.

“A few centimetres can do wonders. I see you differently. You're still fabulous, by the way.”

A giggle comes out of her. A soft, sweet voice that dispels the evening darkness and makes the world a few shades more beautiful. “Okay, I like how a little height makes you so confident.” She puts her hand on your waist and pulls you closer. “Keep going.”

You both know that if Chaebin wanted to, she could easily throw you over her shoulder like a rag doll. How tall you are or what the heel of your shoe looks like doesn't change the fact that she trains her body on a daily basis. That little detail aside; Chaebin isn't the kind of girl who just throws her partners around, and you can flirt with her in a way that makes her knees go weak and heat pour into every single one of her cells.

“Do you know why Hyunjin always wants to kiss you?”

“Ah, it's an eternal secret. Maybe I accidentally gave her a love potio–” Your finger slides over Chaebin's lips and she falls silent.

“From this height, your mouth is plumper. Even more kissable.”

“Hey... You talk as if I were irresistible,” she murmurs to your fingertip. The skin tingles where her lips touch it.

“Because that's the way it is. You,” a soft kiss to her forehead, “are,” a kiss to her nose, “irresistible,” then to her cheek.

“Come on, you giant. Give me a proper kiss.”

Your fingers slide down her neck, your tongue in her mouth. The taste of wine mingles with love, and you're drugged. You almost drop your own presence of mind. Chaebin embraces you, pulling you close. She holds you. When your hand slips between the locks of her silky hair, she groans. The sound has the same effect on you as when you hear her laugh. Her heart murmurs a ragged confession against your chest, and yours responds in a similar rhythm.

You don't know how long you stand like this, lost in each other.

You know you could do this forever, here or elsewhere.

Anywhere.

“I really like your black boots, darling,” notes Chaebin, panting. “If you feel like it, wear them on our next date.”

“I'll think about it.”

You walk to the door of the building. Your black boots proudly knocking with every step.

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