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nekonaps0 · 6 days ago

Note

WHAT ABT UNEXPECTED KISS BUT THE OTHER WAY?? Again, with second year boys, who, after some time of having a crush on reader, finally can't take it anymore and go for a kiss? Maybe with more focus on what exactly the reader did, what was the factor that made them go "Yep, that's it. You're getting smooched. 🧍" Hehe. That would be pretty cool I think

[ Also maybe I could be a 🌀anon, if you name your anons that is? :3 ]

Sudden kiss

✦gn!reader

✦characters: second years

Riddle Rosehearts

You had a habit of bringing him treats from Heartslabyul’s kitchen, a small “thank you for tutoring you in history”. But today, you brought strawberries. Not just any strawberries, ones you'd carefully dipped in chocolate and packaged in a little box with a handwritten tag that said:

“For the best tutor in all of NRC! Don’t forget to treat yourself!”

He’d gone stiff reading it, his cheeks flushing an alarming shade of red. You didn't think much of it, you always gave people sweet things. You were just nice like that.

But Riddle… Riddle was suffering.

He wasn’t just fond of you. He liked you painfully, and had been suppressing it for months, convinced he couldn’t allow himself to act on it, not with the way his heart skipped every time you smiled at him.

But when you reached forward, gently brushed some chocolate off the corner of his mouth, and giggled… that was it.

“Honestly, Riddle. You’re always so neat. What happened?”

He grabbed your wrist, suddenly firm, and his voice trembled as he said

“Y/N. May I…kiss you?”

You didn’t have time to answer. His lips were already on yours, brief, nervous, but utterly sincere.

Afterward, he looked horrified with himself. “I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t—“

But you kissed him again. “Don’t be sorry! Specially not when you making me this happy!” you smiled into the kiss.

Ruggie Bucchi

You were laughing, hard.

Ruggie had just tripped over a mop bucket in the hallway during a cleaning shift, water everywhere, and instead of judging him like anyone else might… you were doubled over, trying not to choke on your laughter.

“Ruggie—! Are you okay? Oh my Seven, that was amazing!”

He groaned, dripping and scowling as he pulled himself up.

“Geez, glad I could entertain ya…”

But when he glanced at you again, you were kneeling in front of him with a towel, gently dabbing at his soaked shirt and hair, still chuckling softly under your breath.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you fall on your face.”

And that… that did it.

It was the look on your face. Like you genuinely cared. Like you didn’t see him as some scrappy scavenger or petty thief, but someone worth doting on. Someone worth laughing with.

His chest tightened.

He looked at you. Smiling. Close. So warm. “Y’know,” he said, voice low and almost sheepish, “you shouldn’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”

“What if I do?”

“Then I’m sorry in advance.”

And he leaned in.

Quick. A little messy. His hands still damp. But when his lips touched yours, all that nervous energy melted into the kiss.

You pulled back, wide eyed. “...That was long overdue,” you whispered.

He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah? Good. ‘Cause I’m not sorry after all.” He chuckled.

Azul Ashengrotto

You didn’t even mean to do it.

Azul had been working late at the Lounge, poring over paperwork at the bar with three untouched cups of coffee. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes darker than usual. You swung by to bring him a snack and check in on him, as you often did. But instead of just handing him the food and leaving…

You leaned in from behind, reached over his shoulders, and carefully placed a sandwich beside his hand.

“You’ve been working too hard again, Azul,” you murmured, your voice warm and low by his ear. “Take care of yourself, will you? I don’t want to worry.”

He froze. The pen in his hand stalled mid stroke. His breath caught in his throat.

Because you said it so casually, like you always did, like it was nothing, and yet it was everything to him. You saw him. Cared about him. Not because of a contract. Not because of his business.

Just because he was Azul.

You stepped away without realizing you’d just detonated something in his heart. He stood slowly, walked around the counter, and called your name softly. You turned.

“Azul?”

“Why… do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and cupped your cheek with one gloved hand.

“Make it so difficult to not fall in love with you.”

And before you could reply, he pulled you into a kiss, slow, deliberate, and deeply emotional. There was no calculation in it, no fine print. Just Azul, laying down all his walls in a single, silent moment.

When he pulled away, he was flushed and breathless. “I… hope that wasn’t too forward.”

You laughed softly, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “No. But I might ask for another one.”

His smile cracked wide open, the real kind, unguarded and all his.

Floyd Leech

You were always a bit bold around Floyd, most people weren’t. But you? You teased him, poked at him, and called him your favorite “chaotic eel boy” like it was a nickname reserved just for him.

And for some reason, he never got bored of you.

He was sprawled out on a bench after skipping class when you came over and tossed a juice box at him.

“You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“Aww, look at you~ So thoughtful, Shrimpy~” he drawled, biting into the straw with a smirk. “Wanna feed it to me with a spoon next?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “If you’re good. But you’ve gotta earn that kind of attention.”

That got him.

His mismatched eyes widened just slightly before narrowing with interest. He sat up slowly, watching you with a wolfish grin.

“Earn it, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, tossing your bag down beside him. “Special treatment’s only for boys who behave.”

“Heh...”

He suddenly leaned forward, crowding your space with the lazy grace of a predator who’d finally found a reason to pounce.

“Say that again, Shrimpy. Say I gotta earn your affection.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn't back away. Instead, you leaned into his space.

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

And that was it.

His hand shot up to cup the back of your neck as he crashed his mouth to yours, quick, rough, and hungry. You barely had time to react before he pulled away with a sharp breath, his lips curled into a grin that was both feral and flushed.

“Guess I’ll just have to steal it then.”

You blinked, stunned, then laughed breathlessly.“I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me, Shrimpy~”

Jade Leech

You always had this… uncanny way of teasing Jade. You knew exactly how to toe the line with him, subtle, clever remarks, quiet smiles, and compliments laced with playful sarcasm. Most people stayed far away from provoking Jade. But not you.

You thrived on walking the edge of that knife.

Today, you’d stopped by Mostro Lounge with some paperwork he needed. He thanked you politely, as always. But when he reached to take the file from your hand, you held onto it, leaned in, and said with that infuriatingly sweet tone:

“What would you do without me, Jade?”

His smile didn’t waver. But his grip on the folder tightened slightly. “A curious question. Shall I list the many tragic possibilities?”

“Or,” you said, smirking, “you could just admit I’m your favorite person and be done with it.”

That was it.

He tilted his head, gaze narrowing, hungry, calculating, amused. You were close. Too close. And you knew what you were doing.

“You always play with fire, don’t you?” he said, his voice low and velvety. “And yet, you seem surprised when it burns.”

“Maybe I like the heat.”

“Mm. Then allow me to indulge you.”

Before you could fire back with another quip, Jade stepped forward and caught your chin between his fingers. His lips brushed yours, soft, precise. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened it slightly, pressing his hand against your lower back.

When he pulled back, his voice was still smooth, but a little breathless. “That’s one favor I won’t charge you for.”

You blinked, dazed. “...Did you just kiss me because I said I was your favorite?”

“No,” he said, smiling with dangerous affection. “I kissed you because it’s been agonizing to wait this long.”

Kalim Al-Asim

With Kalim, things were always cheerful, always loud, always fun. You’d spent the afternoon helping him set up decorations for yet another Scarabia party, floating lanterns, rainbow colored glass beads strung from the ceiling.

He twirled under them with his arms out like a kid, glowing with joy.

“Isn’t it amazing? Look how it sparkles, Y/N!”

You laughed, helping him hang the last of the ribbons. “It’s beautiful, Kalim. But don’t you think you went a little overboard?”

“No way!” He turned toward you, beaming. “The world needs more color! More smiles! More light! Just like you!”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah! You make every room feel sunny!”

Your heart stuttered. Kalim always said sweet things, but for some reason, that one hit different. You turned to tie a bow around one of the columns, trying to hide your flustered expression. But he followed you, bouncing beside you like a golden retriever in human form.

Then, when you looked up to tell him something, he just froze.

You were backlit by golden lantern light, ribbon clutched in one hand, grinning at him with sparkles in your eyes. And it just hit him.

You’re the brightest thing in the room.

His voice dropped. “Can I try something?”

“Uh... sure?”

He leaned in, almost shy for once, and gently, almost reverently kissed you. It was soft and warm, like a sunbeam.

When he pulled back, he was glowing. “Sorry! I just… I really like you, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore!”

You stared at him, stunned. Then you smiled, reached out, and tugged him back in by the front of his shirt.

“Then don’t hold back.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil had been holding back for months.

He knew it wasn’t wise to indulge in a crush. He wasn’t like Kalim… free to chase affection openly. He had responsibilities, expectations, a reputation to maintain. So instead, he watched you from afar, silently helping you behind the scenes, always masking his affection behind tired sighs and veiled comments.

But today... something broke.

You were in the kitchen helping him prep Scarabia’s dinner… poorly. You tried to flip a pan full of veggies and nearly launched it across the counter. Jamil caught the handle behind you in record time, steadying both it and you with his arms wrapped around your sides.

“Careful,” he muttered near your ear, voice low.

“Oops! thanks, Jamil. You’re my hero,” you teased, looking up at him with an impish smile. “What would I do without you?”

And that was the moment.

That look. That tone. That stupid sparkle in your eyes like you had no idea how much of a mess you were making him. Like you hadn’t just taken a sledgehammer to his emotional defenses.

He stepped back quickly, covering his mouth with his hand.

You blinked. “Jamil?”

“I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“...This.” He closed the space between you again, swiftly, purposefully and kissed you. His hands were careful, his body tense like he couldn’t believe he’d finally snapped. And when he pulled back, his eyes searched your face desperately for rejection.

But all he got was a stunned, breathless smile.

“...Wow,” you whispered.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “I couldn’t—”

“Do it again.”

He froze.

You leaned up and kissed him this time, hands cupping his jaw like you’d been the one waiting all along.

“Next time,” you said against his lips, “warn me first. I almost dropped the pan again.”

Jamil huffed a breath of laughter, half embarrassed, half relieved.

“You’re a menace.”

Silver

Silver had always admired you from a quiet distance. You were energy where he was calm. Vibrance where he was still. But there was something about your presence, gentle, patient, a little chaotic, but always kind, that stirred something warm and persistent inside him.

Even when he drifted off mid-sentence, you never teased him for it. You just let him rest his head on your shoulder or let him doze peacefully on your lap. You treated his silence not as boredom but as being, and he found himself constantly drawn to that quiet understanding.

And then, today, something shifted.

You were walking together after feeding the animals in the forest. You’d just told him a story, some funny little memory from your childhood and ended it with a laugh, eyes bright and cheeks pink from the chill.

He was barely listening to the words anymore. He was watching your face.

Then you looked up at him, smile softening.

“You always take such good care of everyone, Silver. You deserve someone to take care of you too, y’know?”

The words hit him harder than you probably meant them to.

You always looking out for him. You always seeing him, even when he was quiet, even when he was tired. And now you were standing there.

“That’s... a very kind thing to say,” he murmured.

“It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”

He turned toward you fully. He reached out as if on instinct, brushing a stray leaf from your hair and then lingered. His fingers hesitated just by your jaw.

“You make me feel awake.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Every time I look at you,” he whispered, “I forget I’m supposed to be tired.”

And then, slowly, cautiously, deliberately, he leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t impulsive, it was something he’d been carrying in his heart for far too long. And he kissed you like someone memorizing a dream they didn’t want to wake from. You melted into him with a stunned little gasp, your hands gripping his shirt.

When he pulled away, your eyes were wide but shining.

“Silver…”

“I’m sorry if that was—”

“Do it again,” you breathed, smiling now. “And don’t apologize.”

This time, you kissed him. And Silver, warm, devoted, and finally unafraid kissed you back like you were the only dream he ever wanted to wake up from.

..............................................................................................................................

You lost your wholesome name privileges 💜

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allthatjazz416 · 1 month ago

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Husband!Nanami HC! 🤍

Headcanons! NSFW HCs are at the very end! Skip if you're not into it 💙 divider crdts:@/cursed-carmine Note: I'M SORRY FOR THE OTHER ONE. HERE! A PROPER AND SERIOUS ONE THIS TIME 🫶

Hubby!Nanami who proposed at home. No big spectacle, no audience. Just dim lighting, a home-cooked dinner (that he made), and a simple box placed next to your wine glass with a quiet, “You know I’d rather die than live without you. So. Would you?”

Hubby!Nanami who takes anniversaries seriously. Always has a plan. A gift. Not always flashy but meaningful. Once gave you a first eidition of your favorite book with a note tucked inside: "I love you. I always will. For the rest of my life."

Hubby!Nanami who cleans the whole house when you’re sick but pretends it’s no big deal. “You needed rest. I had time. No need to thank me. You’re still my favorite mess.”

Hubby!Nanami who keeps his wedding ring on during everything. Always. Even in fights. Even in the shower. Even when you’re arguing over who left the stove on. Even during sex. Especially during sex.

Hubby!Nanami who has a drawer labeled “Y/N’s snacks” in the kitchen because he noticed you like different things than him and didn’t want to mix your treats with his plain-ass crackers and protein bars.

Hubby!Nanami who wakes you up with forehead kisses on work mornings because he knows he’ll be gone before you’re awake. Sometimes leaves your coffee half-brewed so you can wake up to the smell.

Hubby!Nanami who secretly carries a picture of you in his wallet. A candid one you didn't even know he took. He just knows that’s what love to him looks like.

Hubby!Nanami who never yells during fights. He just stands still, breathing slow, asking quiet, painful questions like “Why are you pushing me away when I’m trying to understand you?” and god, it’s worse than shouting.

Hubby!Nanami who still blushes when you grab his ass in the kitchen. Grumbles “not in front of the soup,” but pulls you close anyway, hand on your waist like he’s still trying to court you after years of marriage.

Hubby!Nanami who would take a cursed wound for you without hesitation. Then apologize for it. “I didn’t want you to worry. Sorry for making you cry.” Blood-soaked shirt and all.

NSFW! 🤍

Hubby!Nanami who fucks like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your moans. Soft when you need him. Rough when he knows you can take it. Always with your pleasure first.

Hubby!Nanami who loves slow, dragging strokes when he's been away on missions. Just holds your legs open, one hand on your belly, watching the way your cunt grips him like it missed him. “There you are. Still fits me so well.”

Hubby!Nanami who prefers positions where he can see your face. Missionary with your wrists pinned. You riding him while he cups your waist. His eyes never leave yours, especially when you cum.

Hubby!Nanami who worships your body like it’s sacred. Kisses every mark, every stretch, every bruise. Loves your thighs. Loves your stomach. Loves making you look in the mirror when you’re full of him, shaking. “Don’t look away. This is what you do to me.”

Hubby!Nanami who gets jealous when you wear something too revealing in public—but doesn’t say a word. In public he'll protect you, but when you get home, he just makes sure to fuck you hard when you get home, pulling your clothes off with quiet precision and making you repeat whose cock you belongs to.

Hubby!Nanami who marks you up intentionally. Hickeys under your collarbone. Finger-shaped bruises on your hips. His cum leaking out of you for hours after. He doesn’t mind the cleanup. He likes it. It’s proof.

Hubby!Nanami who sleeps curled around you afterward. One arm under your head, one over your waist, your hand resting on his chest where you can feel the slow thud of his heart. You’re safe. Fucked-out. Loved.

Hubby!Nanami who always makes sure you cum first. Always. Fingers, tongue, cock. It doesn’t matter. He’ll have you shaking and drooling before he even unzips. And he’ll praise you for it. “Good girl. That’s it. You take me so well every time.”

The End! 💙

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cherryyluvs · 3 months ago

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Backseat Tension

synopsis: a cramped car, too little space, and Mark’s lap becomes your seat.

˖ ── Mark G. x fem!reader | warning: NSFW, public tension, heavy makeout, semi-exhibitionism, dry humping, messy kissing, grinding, teasing, mild voyeurism

You don't even remember how it happened or how the hell you ended up in Mark's lap. Something about there not being enough space, and him saying “You can just sit here.” Like it was no big deal.

The car ride was cramped, squished in the back with bags and boxes from Rick helping William move into his new college dorm. You tried to squeeze into a corner, but there wasn't enough room. Not with all the stuff piled in the backseat. Boxes of books, bags of clothes, and a few random things that Rick hadn't packed right. The space was a mess, leaving you no choice but to sit on Mark’s lap.

Now here you are.

Stuffed in the backseat, on his thighs. Not only that.

It's hot.

No windows down, no nothing. The Ac in the front is blasting but you couldn't feel it, but you could feel his hands resting low on your waist. His breath warm against the side of your neck.

And every bump in the road has you feeling him.

The tension is insane.

You try not to move and ignore the way his thighs shifted beneath you. Your shorts are definitely not doing a good job of separating the two of you.

You feel him,

God, you feel everything.

Ignoring those dirty thoughts of what would happen if you just had five minutes alone. Ignoring how his hands have slid a little lower or how his fingers twitch, like he's fighting every instinct not to pull you closer. His lips ghosting over your shoulder, just enough to make you shiv–

“Is everything good back there?” William’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

You froze

Mark stiffens under you.

You sit up straight, way too fast. “Y-Yeah! All good! Great, even.”

Rick glances at William with a sly smirk. “You sure? Kinda quiet back there..” You swear you hear William snort.

Mark pressed his face into your shoulder, biting back a groan. “They know,” he mutters under his breath.

You whisper, “Do you have to be this close?”

“I'm not doing anything” he lies through his teeth, but the grip on your waist tightens just slightly. You can feel how hard his breathing is, how hard he is beneath you. You pretend not to notice the bulge underneath you.

Another bump in the road. Mark lets out a shaky breath, his lips ghosting your skin. “Stop moving so much.”

You glanced towards the front seat. Rick is adjusting the music, but William? He's peeking in the rearview mirror with a knowing look. “Beheave back there” William says in a playful voice. “Or we’re kicking you out.”

Mark leans in closer, whispering to you. “We wouldn't even make it to the sidewalk.” You know he's teasing but his voice, the way he said and how he's looking at you, like he means it.

You swallow hard and try to focus on anything else, the road, the music, the way William and Rick are bickering over directions.

But all you can feel is Mark.

The second William pulls into the gas station, you know.

Oh you know.

Rick’s talking about snacks, asking if anyone wants something from inside the gas station and Williams’s too busy reading the pump instructions like he doesn't already know how gas works. But Mark has that look. Ready to pounce on you look.

“You stayin in the car?” He asks in a low voice. Your heart skips a beat. “Yeah. Why?” Mark doesn't answer. Not with words anyways.

You shiver at his touch, his hands move higher. Cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. “They'll be gone for five minutes.” Pulling you closer, “And I've been dying for hours.”

You try to say something clever but he captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. His mouth moving against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. His tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore every inch of your mouth.

Hard and needy.

You moan into the kiss, your hands tangled all in his hair. The kiss is messy and sloppy. The car rocks slightly, just a little at first but enough for you to pull back. "Mark–"

“They can’t see us,” he cuts in, voice thick, eyes half lidded. “Windows are foggy and you're shaking.”

You are. You haven't even noticed and the worst part? You don't want to stop. “Look at you” He breathes heavily. “You wanna get caught don't you?” You can feel your arousal building up, your panties soaked with your juices. “Shut up,”

The car creaks and rocks with every shift of your hips.

You try not to moan. His mouth sucking on your breast while his hands fondles and pinches your nipple. Grinding on his thighs, letting out a sound you couldn't even describe, feeling the urgency. You reach down, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours.

And then–

A muffled voice from outside. “Yo Mark! You want a drink?” William’s shouting from the gas station door. You stopped. Lips swollen, legs trembling.

Mark bites back a groan, forehead pressed against yours. “If he comes back right now. I swear im-”

You slap his chest. “Get it together!”

He chuckles. “You're the one on top babe,”

You cleared your throat. “Red slushie” you said, voice barely steady.

“We’re not even halfway done.” He whispered.

And he was right, you were nowhere near finished.

#invincible #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson #flirt #i need him so bad #GIMMIE

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yuujispunches · 1 month ago

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Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

��Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.��

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

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jejewonster · 6 months ago

Text

Milk and Cookies

do you like my cookies? they’re made just for you. 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ࣪˖

❁ pairing: chwe vernon x f.reader ❁ genre: friends to fucking, aphrodisiacs, smut (MDNI 18+) ❁ wc: 1.8k

— vernon doesn't know how badly you want him. hopefully the chocolates you bought will help him see you differently.

❁ smut tags/warning: DUBCON, buzzcut vern, aphrodisiac chocolate is used to coerce vernon, dryhumping, penetrative sex, creampie, thigh fucking?, choking, reader is manipulative, reader acts like vernon's sexual advances are unsolicited at first. ❁ a/n: read my guidlines. don't like don't read. block me if this isn't your cup of tea. vernon is meant to have a buzzcut but i couldn't find a good pic to make into a banner :( sry! thank you to @sunniques for beta reading ♡.

it’s not your fault that your best friend doesn’t realize how much you want to fuck him.

despite how many times you’ve tried to make it obvious how badly you’ve ached for him to give you what you need finally, none of your plans have worked in your favour.

“hey, you ready?” vernon calls out for you.

after clearing your mind from your depraved train of thoughts, you turn to him from your kitchen to smile back at his awaiting figure that’s sat on your couch. leaning against the headrest, his arms propped up against the cushions with his legs spread.

it doesn’t help that he’s agreed to your remarks on how good a buzzcut would look on him. the lack of hair on his head is new and exciting, and you wish to feel the buzzed hair graze against your inner thighs.

“yeah, just grabbing a few snacks. gimme a minute,” you smile, although you can feel the way it doesn’t fully reach your eyes.

taking the box of chocolates from the fridge, you made sure not to forget the most important component of your plan. if anyone had found out about your idea, they would call you insane, but you couldn’t care less.

you’re not accustomed to being denied what you need, or what you crave either. it’s not your fault you’re tastebuds have been tingling for someone as sweet as honey.

staring down at the chocolate box in your hands, a smile begins to creep onto your face. vernon won’t be able to ignore the undeniable sexual attention after this.

the aphrodisiac-filled candy is cold in your hands, but in a few hours, it’ll be a warm memory of tonight’s events.

taking your designated spot beside vernon, you hand him the chocolate.

“here have one, i got it the other day and thought we could try them together,” you nudge the box of confections towards him.

“sure. these look expensive as fuck? where’d you get them?”

shrugging your shoulders you act as nonchalant as you can, “nowhere special, just some place downtown.”

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ࣪˖ 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ࣪˖

vernon’s skin is scalding. he isn’t sure what the hell is wrong with him, but his body temperature has gotten higher with every passing second. there’s an ache in cock that he’s so desperate to release but there’s no way he’s going to be able to go to the bathroom with the situation he’s in.

with you beside him on the couch, the two of you shifted into a position where you’re both lying down facing the TV. the sounds coming from the screen are nothing in comparison to the pulse that rings in his ears.

one arm is placed securely around your waist, legs tangled along the cushions. you’re way too close. close enough that he can feel the way your tiny sleeping shorts leave nothing up to the imagination. the curve of your ass is pressed tightly against his growing erection. vernon is a hundred percent sure you can feel how hard he is right now, yet he’s still frozen in place, not wanting to reveal his dirty little secret even further.

sneaking a peek at your face, your eyes are still trained on the movie, but vernon can’t handle it anymore. he needs to do something. anything.

it’s like a shot to his chest, you squirm under his grasp and if he wasn’t so aware, a groan would’ve left his lips. instead, he sucks in a breath, doing everything in his power to create the smallest bit of distance between you.

“hey, are you feeling warm?” he asks you, trying to distract himself from the way the blood is draining his body and rushing into his semi hard on.

“no, not really? are you okay?” you turn, eyes piercing into his soul.

“a little bit,” he sighs, not realizing he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

you stiffen up, and the smallest graze of your ass against him has his brain turning to mush. vernon is filled to the brim with confusion and frustration, and it’s even worse that he can’t seem to get an ounce of relief. not unless he wants to embarrass himself in front of the girl he’s been pining over for years.

“i can go grab you some–v-vernon!” your sentence is cut off, vernon cannot have you standing up just to see how hard he is right now.

“n-no it’s fine just–just stay where you are,” vernon breathes out.

the look you give him is filled with confusion, but you do what he says anyways.

“fine. let’s finish the movie first.”

snuggling into him more, vernon’s breath hitches. self-control slipping away from his fingertips the more you situate yourself into a more comfortable position. he’s really starting to lose it now, whatever morals he had left were thrown out the window with his conscience.

as if he’s being controlled by a puppeteer, his hips find themselves moving on their own. rutting into the crevice of your ass, the shorts bunching up to reveal the supple skin underneath. vernon’s brain is fogged with arousal and no matter how badly he feels for using you; the relief he’s receiving overrides every single one of the morals he’s set up for himself.

“A-ah–vernon? w-what’s going on?” you whimper as he continues to grind into you.

“i-i’m sorry. i really tried to ignore it, but shit, it feels so fucking good,” vernon groans from behind you.

the nape of your neck is in front of him, and hides his face in it, not wanting to reveal the rosy blush sprawled on his cheeks. the friction between you two creates a tent to strain against his pants, his large hands move down towards your soft thighs. touching them with the softest of caresses, the heat of your skin radiates onto his palms.

his fingers trailing up your skin, skipping the heat between your legs in favour of your breasts. the speed of his hips pick up and now both of his hands have you encased into his body. both of his palms grope at your tits over the thin fabric of your tank top.

it’s as if he’s been put in a trance. no matter how guilty he feels, he can’t stop himself from defiling you.

“i’m so sorry darling, i can’t stop,” he whimpers against you.

“v-vernon, i’m not sure about this,” you speak up, but your ass is following his movements in tandem. pushing back against his hard member as he continues to grope you.

“just give it to me, just this once. i’ll make it worth while darling,” vernon grunts against you.

his hands move down once more, propping your thigh up to give himself access to where he needs you most. the other palm still tweaking your nipple, under your top this time. pointer finger and thumb rolling the sensitive nub till you’re putty in his hands.

vernon’s attention moves back to your cunt, the thin piece of fabric from your shorts being the only thing in the way from touching you where it matters. if he knew any better, he would’ve thought you weren’t wearing panties for a reason. but the problem is, vernon isn’t thinking with his mind. his hard cock is making all his decisions for him.

shifting the fabric aside, he is finally able to touch your bare pussy. your lips wet with arousal, slick and ready for him. he groans into your ear, peppering kisses along your neck as he rubs your clit. you moan against him, and he can practically feel you vibrating against his body.

there’s a whine that leaves your lips as he recoils his fingers away from your hot cunt.

shifting behind you, vernon frees his cock from his sweats. there’s a breath of relief between all the hot tension. finally.

“you’re fucking soaking. tell me you don’t want this ‘cause i’m not stopping,” vernon groans, not even allowing you to answer back.

he slips his dick between your slippery folds before forcing your thighs closed once again. the head of his length is bumping into your clit as vernon begins to hump into you sideways.

“n-nonie, f-fuck, p-please,” you moan out between your pleas.

“jesus christ, darling, tell me how good it feels,” he grunts into your ear once more.

“your dick feels so good, a-ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, keep going please,” you beg him, synchronizing with his movements.

vernon is drunk on lust. the sounds of your squelching pussy fill the room and the sound alone is dizzying. he picks up his pace, the coil in his abdomen starting to tighten. he wants to be inside you, he craves it.

“keep those legs open for me baby,” vernon mumbles.

your hand goes under your knee, propping your one thigh up. vernon shifts slightly, his pulsing cock in his palm as he lines himself up with your entrance. the tip slides against your wet pussy before his tip is shoved into your tight hole.

you visibly tremble, and vernon thrusts up enough to bottom out inside you. the arm you're using to hold you up gives out, but vernon is quick to replace it with his own. slapping his hips into you, he holds your leg up to give him room to continue fucking you.

“tightest pussy ever, holy fuck,” vernon practically drools.

your walls are gummy, and so soft. the heat of your cunt engulfs the whole entirety of his cock. it motivates him to continue pistoning into you until his balls begin to squeeze. he knows he’s close but he doesn’t want it to end. as if he can go on for hours drowning into the heat of your tight pussy.

“you fill me up so well,” you whimper, craning your neck to catch his lips.

vernon kisses back, tongues tangling with one another as the two of you are practically eating each other faces off. you jolt with every thrust vernon gives you, the hand that was groping as your tit moves to grip your neck. fingers squeezing at the sides to cut off your airflow the slightest bit.

the muffled moans that leave your lips are vernon’s breaking point. your pussy clenches around him the harder he squeezes your neck and it’s enough to send him over the edge.

gasping into your mouth, vernon’s hips halt as he spurts his cum into your hole. the semen overflows and coats his cock with the mixture of your arousal and his own.

“i’m sorry, you didn’t even cum yet,” vernon pants against your lips.

“it’s fine. i’m not ready for this to be over yet anyways,” you breathe out, cheeks flushed.

vernon looks into your eyes, the glint in your pupils unmissable. what the hell did you put in those chocolates?

❁ a/n: thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did hehe :3

#tw: dubcon #vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #chwe vernon #chwe hansol #hansol x reader #hansol smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fic #svt x reader

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nephynes · 1 month ago

Note

pleaseee can I req for older won younger reader? I literally never see older won fics 😭 and he just seems so older bf coded

you know what? i see it

MDNI

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You really don't even notice it anymore. The hand that's always at the small of your back. The way he adjusts your pace when you're walking too fast. The way he slows you down without ever saying a word. The way you follow him without even realizing you're doing it.

It's always been like this with Jungwon. He's never raised his voice at you. Never told you no. Never told you anything, really. He doesn't have to. He just tilts your chin up when you mumble through an excuse, thumbs away your lip when you chew on it too long, makes you look him in the eye when you're trying not to. The first time he did it, you thought he was being sweet.

Now you know better. You know Jungwon isn't exactly sweet. He's more precise.

He takes care of things before you even ask. Keeps the apartment stocked with your favorite snacks. Replaces your razors and pads before you run out. He has your prescriptions memorized, vitamins included—actually stands by the kitchen island in the morning and watches you take them one by one.

"All of them," he'll say, nudging the bottle of B12 with one knuckle when you skip it. "Not just the ones you like."

And you swallow them all with a pout, because you know what happens if you whine.

Being with him has made you forget what it's like to have to ask for anything. You just look at something too long in a store window, and suddenly it's on your bed.

"Don't act surprised," he says one evening when you find a bracelet you almost bought last week sitting inside a box on your pillow. "You stared at it. That's basically begging."

He says it like a joke, but you know it's not.

He watches everything. Remembers everything. Tracks your period in his calendar so well you stopped bothering to update your own. He knows when your cramps are coming, when you'll be sore, when your moods will swing sharp and irrational.

Knows when you'll cry and not know why, he even knows when you're ovulating—like tonight.

You'd been brattier than usual all day, lounging around in nothing but his shirt, flipping through your term paper with a pout that was half fake and half real.

"Wonie, I don't get it," you whined, flopping dramatically on the couch. "It's dumb."

He didn't even look up from his phone.

"Send it to me."

You blinked. "What?"

"The assignment. I'll do it."

You probably should've said thank you. But you didn't. Just threw your arms around his neck and kissed him and forgot the entire thing ten minutes later. Now, you're in his lap again. Lazy. Content. Your cheek pressed to his chest, legs curled into his thighs.

His hand slides up your back and cups your nape.

"You're clingy today," he says, voice low and amused.

"Wonie," you mumble.

"Hm?"

"Can you help me take off the shirt? I'm hot." You're not.

His hand slips under the hem without a word, guiding it up, pulling it off over your head so gently it makes you sigh. You don't even realize he's paused until your body shifts and your bare chest brushes against his.

"No bra?" he murmurs.

You shake your head, sleepy. "Too uncomfy."

"Yeah?"

His fingers trace down your ribs, featherlight. Then he curls a hand around your waist and lifts you up into his lap so his thigh is between your legs, and your chest is flush against his.

Your breath catches. He notices. "You always get so soft like this, baby," he says, voice low. "Like your whole body's begging for me."

Your fingers tighten on his shirt.

"Wonie."

"You don't even know it, do you?" He kisses your jaw. "How you ask for it without even trying."

You open your mouth, maybe to deny it, maybe to whine, but his thumb is on your chin, tilting your head back like he always does.

"Open."

You obey without thinking at all. He slips his thumb into your mouth and watches as you close your lips around it. Watches your lashes flutter when he presses down on your tongue just enough to make your thighs clench.

"There's my good girl."

He finally kisses you then. Slow, deep, possessive. His hands are warm and sure, cradling your hips, lifting you up just to rock you down against his thigh.

You moan into his mouth. Your hips move instinctively. "So easy for me," he says, biting gently at your bottom lip. "Every time. You make me do all the work, and you're still the one that ends up whining."

You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, but he chuckles, and you feel it vibrate through your chest.

"Don't get shy now, baby. Not when you're riding my thigh like that."

You're panting now. Barely able to think. Your clit keeps catching deliciously on his sweats and your whole body feels too warm.

"Wonie, I—"

"I know."

He grips your waist a little tighter, guiding your movements. Your hands are clutching his shoulders, fingers digging in, and your eyes are wet and wide.

"Y'wanna cum like this, don't you?"

You nod.

"Say it."

"Wonie...wanna cum. On you."

He hums, proud and pleased. "I know, baby girl. I'll let you. Just keep being good for me."

And you do. Of course you do. You always are.

He helps you grind harder, deeper, his thigh tensing under you with every little whimper you let out. It's filthy how good it feels, how wet you're getting, how you're rutting against him like you've forgotten how to ask for more. His grip tightens as you lose rhythm, as your hips start jerking on their own, chasing that high.

He kisses you through it when you cum, moaning and whimpering into his mouth, grinding helplessly against him while his hand cups your jaw to keep you still.

He smiles first, eyes flicking down to the soaked patch on his sweats like he's proud of it. His fingers brush over the damp fabric, deliberately slow, feeling the heat you left behind, and then he looks up at you with something almost wicked in his gaze. "All this from just a little grinding?"

After, when you're still trembling in his arms, he kisses your temple and murmurs in your ear.

You're always quiet afterward, always tucked into him, letting him guide your breathing without a word. He's running his hand down your spine, light and slow, and you feel so small like this. Like you always do with him.

"That's my girl," he murmurs eventually, more to himself than to you.

You barely hum in return, the sound muffled into his chest.

He smiles and it’s not the usual one he gives you when he's amused, but something deeper. Familiar. Like he's seen this version of you before, way before you even knew how to ask for what you needed.

"You really don't know how much of a baby you are sometimes," he says softly, brushing your hair off your face.

The words make your stomach flip. But his tone is affectionate and warm. You don't reply, just cling to him tighter, pretending not to hear the low laugh he gives when you do.

"That's alright," he adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've got you."

"I love you, you know that right?"

You nod your head, weak.

He never says it in public. Never shows his teeth, never pulls you closer like other guys might. He doesn't think he needs to.

Jungwon is never loud about being yours.

He's just always there. There when you step off a curb without looking, hand reaching out without even glancing up. There when your voice gets too quiet in a group setting and no one hears you—except him.

"She said she wants a vanilla smoothie," he tells the server, without being asked.

"No, she's fine," he says quickly when someone teases you for being on your phone too much.

"You don't need to talk if you don't want to, baby."

It's so smooth you don't realize how much space he takes up in your life. Not just physically, although he does tend to lean into you a lot, draping an arm around the back of your chair, tilting your face toward him when you're zoned out, but emotionally, too.

Later that night, when you're half-asleep and mumbling nonsense against his chest, he taps his phone open and marks your symptoms down in his cycle tracker. Then he adds painkillers to the grocery list and sets a reminder for himself to grab heat packs tomorrow.

Because you don't need to ask. He already knows.

You're his girl. And he always knows what's best for you.

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• a/n: i’d do anything for a boyfriend that’ll do my homework for me

#jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enha smut #enha x reader

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writingsbychlo · 7 months ago

Text

DECK THE HALLS | DRACO MALFOY

SUMMARY: Narcissa has big plans for her son's girlfriend this time of year, and you're determined to live up to her expectations. WORD COUNT: 7680 NOTES: The first fic of this year's Christmas series, and I think you guys will really love it! It's cute, it's sweet, and it's just the right amount of sassy-Draco.

The moment you sank into the seat beside him, Draco pushed a cup of your favourite herbal tea across to you, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered a sleepy greeting. Opposite you, Mattheo was half-asleep above his bowl of cereal, his head tipping forward precariously — and a slight thrill shot through you at the idea of him dropping face-first into the milky bowl.

“You’re evil for choosing a six am lecture, do you know that? And they think Matt’s father is the darkest wizard there is.” Daphne groaned as she shuffled into the kitchenette of your small, shared flat in her bunny-eared muggle slippers. Chancing a glance at Draco, you didn’t miss the disgraced twist to his lips as he eyed them. Just like always.

“Nobody forced you to get up at this time, y’know.” You teased, blowing the steam away from your mug, and Mattheo’s head lulled forward just far enough to fall when the toast popped. He jerked his head back up, only inches from getting a face-full of milk and rice crispies, and you pouted in disappointment as he blinked himself back awake, and scooped some more into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “Why do you get up at this time every day?”

“Because Dray makes us all breakfast if we do!” Daphne chirped, adjusting far better to the early rise than your other roommate, who would be cranky until noon, even without face-planting his crackling snack.

“Correction, I make my girlfriend breakfast, and you two just pilfer food that isn’t yours.” He snarked, buttering the toast, and kissing the top of your head a moment later as he placed it down in front of you. Moments later, a teapot, jam, a plate of only slightly too-crispy bacon and hashbrowns floated over too, laying themselves out on the table along with plates and cutlery.

Since his insistence on moving into his own accommodation at the start of university, Draco had been practising his cooking skills. After setting off the fire alarms every day for the first two weeks and screaming every insult under the sun at the beeping box on the ceiling, he’d started to become quite adept at it.

A harmony settled across the table as you all tucked into your food, only the scrape of butter on toast and the occasional squeak of metal on pottery sounded, the tea in your mug sinking dwindling as the clock on the wall ticked on. Finally, when it was time to leave, you floated all the dishes to the sink, and let Draco trail you to the door of your cramped apartment. Wrapping a thick scarf around your neck, he used it to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips when you grumbled;

“I have to go, Dray.”

“I know.” He mused, licking across your lower lip in that same way that always made your legs tremble a little.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your boyfriend teased, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you in close. Your hand, that had been reaching for your coat, somehow found itself tangling into those soft blonde strands instead.

“I’m going to be late.” Your murmur was swallowed by his mouth closing over your own, a wider kiss, covering your mouth and you sagged into him. He was practically radiating smugness, the squeeze of his arms around you, the arrogance in his breathy chuckle. “Dray…”

“Mmmh?”

“I—”

A tapping at the window cut you off, and Draco pulled back with an indignant sound, whipping his head around to look at the window. He sighed with agitation, “Do you think my mother simply does not care that our apartment building is Muggle, or does she still think Muggles use carrier pigeons?”

You smothered a laugh as he made his way over to the window, taking a little more effort to open it as ice frosted the seals closed, but when he finally did, the tawny brown owl acknowledged him with a rather irritated hoot. The moment Draco had taken the letter, it was stretching its wings, flapping again and taking off into the murky dawn light.

Tugging on your coat as he closed the window back up and shuddered, you shouldered your bag. Upon seeing your progress towards leaving, and another morning of failing to hinder your departure, Draco pouted. His attention turned to the letter in his hands as you opened the front door. “It’s for you.”

“What?”

“My mother, she sent the letter to you. Do you want me to leave it on your—”

“Give it here!” You squeaked, lunging for the letter, and letting the door fall back shut as you snatched it from his hands. Just like he said, elegantly scrawled across the front in Narcissa’s handwriting was your name, and a flush of nervous heat flooded your body. Suddenly, despite the ice and snow outside, you were wearing too many layers.

“I thought you had to leave?”

“It’s a letter from your mother! I can’t leave this until later!” Turning it over and running a shaky finger under the seal with the Malfoy signet, you popped it open, the envelope falling open into a folded parchment with the same lovely handwriting contained inside.

Scanning your eyes over the words, seconds seemed to drag on into endless minutes, as you read it again and again. At last, you clutched the letter to your chest, peering up at your confused boyfriend with wide eyes. “So, what did she say?”

“She wants me to plan the annual Christmas Eve party this year.”

Your breathing was light and shallow as you sat inside the restaurant, smoothing down floo-rumpled hair that had taken Daphne almost an hour to style for you. Your dress was new, courtesy of a panicky shopping trip with Draco after insisting you had nothing appropriate to wear to eat dinner with his mother. Your lipstick was the perfect shade and you’d made sure your perfume was just on the right side of decorous, not the sultry date night scent you typically wore to places like this.

And still, despite all your preparations, your hand trembled as you picked up your water glass and brought it to your lips.

And then, the green flames at the front of the restaurant flashed once again, and out stepped Narcissa Malfoy. Sophistication incarnate, she smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, one that made your own feel like a burlap sack. Several members of staff flooded to her side before she’d even finished stepping down from the line of fireplaces, and she smiled politely as she handed over her coat. Inquisitive gaze flicking over the room, that smile became genuine as she set her sights on you sitting at the table already, and she walked through the room like she owned it as she made her way to you.

Standing as she approached, she let out a regal scoff —how she managed to make a scoff sound so posh was beyond you— and waved a hand in the air. “No need for formalities, dear. Sit, please.”

She kissed both of your cheeks, before pointing to your chair, and you sank into it as she settled into hers. “It’s so lovely to see you, Narcissa. I was surprised you wanted to see me, alone. Draco is—”

“Draco is probably pacing in that little apartment you both live in that he insists upon. Why he forces you to live there when he could have much nicer accommodations is beyond me.”

“It’s a nice apartment. We bought some lovely throw blankets.” Hiding your smile in your glass, your laugh at her expression bubbled your water, and heat rushed to your cheeks as you lowered it and patted at your lip. “I’m so sorry.”

The woman before you only chuckled privately and raised her hand to a waiter. The young man hurried over, cracking open a bottle of white wine without even having to be told, and Narcissa smiled at your confusion. “I have the same wine every time I come, this quaint little place is a favourite of mine. Did you know Lucius attended this same university when he was your age?”

You tried not to hang on the word quaint, thanking the waiter as he poured you a glass too, before hurrying from the table once again. Instead, you moved on to something else, “Which university did you attend, Mrs Malfoy?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t attend university, dear. In my day, a woman was never supposed to be more intelligent than her husband. Educated, of course, but not too smart.” A fond look passed over her features, “Though, Lucius has never seemed to mind. I have read enough to possess multiple degrees by now, he is not intimidated by my curiosity for knowledge. It is one of the reasons I love my husband. But, enough about me.”

Your breathing hitched as her eyes sharpened on you once again. She toyed with the bracelet on her wrist and plucked off a small charm. Placing it on the table, with a single muttered incantation, a gorgeous, pure-leather briefcase with her initials embedded on the side in gold, filled the available space. The clasps popped open, and she peered at you over the lid.

“Let’s skip the small talk, shall we, dear? We have much to discuss. You know what you’d like to eat, I presume?”

You did not, in fact, know what you wanted, but you nodded regardless, and picked the first thing from the menu that came to mind. When your order was given, Narcissa placed a delicate pair of reading glasses onto her nose and began to pull out papers and folders to stack beside her wine glass.

“You shall host the Christmas Eve party this year, but despite it being loosely called a ‘party’, it is so much more. It is a social event, a business event, and one of the most desired gatherings of the year. It is exclusive, thousands of wizards globally vie for a spot on this guest list and most are disappointed year in and year out. It must be spectacular, splendid, and unique. Repeated themes are the death of any social event, as I’m sure you know.” Peering over the rim of her glasses at you, she raised a manicured eyebrow inquisitorially. “Are you taking notes?”

With a jump, you reached for your far less elegantly-stored bag on the back of your chair, and rooted through for your notebook and QuickQuill, setting it to work atop the table as she continued to speak.

“I have brought my records for the last ten years, and a list of the themes dating back the last thirty, in order to help you. I have also included a copy of any and all documents I typically use, to help you out a little. Nobody helped me when I first began. Merlin, Lucius’ mother hated me until the wonderful day the old hag died, she wanted to see me fail. I do not want to see you fail.” She looked up as the scribbling of the quill on your paper stopped at her small rant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I, uhh, I—” You stumbled over your words, clearing your throat as she closed the briefcase and linked her hands, setting them upon the tabletop with poise as she waited, “I’m just wondering why?”

“Why?” She sniffed, pushing her glasses further up her nose and raising one brow into a high arch. “Why what?”

“Why you’re giving this to me? It’s an honour, truly, but I’m just wondering why you would put something so important, your family’s name, into my hands?”

At that, Narcissa’s lips turned up into a fond smile, and her head tipped to the side. “My son loves you.”

After a moment’s pause, you nodded, throat feeling thick. “He does.”

“I am happy for him. He adores you, as he should. You are a wonderful girl, my dear. I do not want you to have the harsh break into this world that I did. I thought I had been prepared to become a wife, I was an heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, but a union between the most noble House of Black and the most powerful House of Malfoy created something else entirely. You, you are clearly Draco’s one. The men in this family love wholly, powerfully, and obsessively. You will be a Malfoy one day, and I wish for you to be ready. I wish to guide you in a way nobody guided me.”

Words froze in your throat, and tears prickled behind your eyes are her words. “You really think that? You think Draco will marry me one day?”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already thinking about it. He is, at the end of the day, still a high-society boy raised to find a suitable wife.” She left her statement short and succinct, and you sniffed lightly to hold back your feelings. “Do not cry.”

“Sorry, I—”

“I mean it. Do not start crying. We have work to do.”

You nodded, but then she smiled fondly, and a small and emotional squeak escaped you.

The number of notes Narcissa had given you at dinner alone had required their own folder entirely to properly organise. So this morning, you’d braved yourself on a journey out in the ice and snow to a local stationary store to pick up two more. Surrounded by open folders, QuickQuills, and some coloured tabs and inky pens deemed highlighters that you’d noticed some Muggle girls picking up, you had set to work hours ago.

Your neck ached, your back was sore, and two of your QuickQuills had broken while the notepad in your lap had more pages torn out in frustration than actually had useful ideas and notes.

That, and Draco had been needy since the moment he’d gotten home, laying himself out dramatically on the floor in front of you and trading refills on your tea for kisses. Some time ago, he’d convinced you to take a break for dinner and to do your homework together at the table.

Now, the sun had set, Mattheo had long since returned from his part-time job at the record store, and Daphne had come back from her weekend study group, gotten ready, and gone back out for a date, and you still felt like you hadn't quite done enough. If the stress of party planning didn’t kill you, it was certainly going to cripple you.

Stretching your arms over your head from where you perched before the coffee table, you pushed your legs out into any space available. As you did, a relieved groan slipped free at the delicious pain of tight muscles unfurling in your back. Draco cupped your chin, tipping your head back to drop a kiss onto your lips as he passed by to go to the kitchen, leaving his book marked and closed on the side of the couch.

You listened to him make another cup of tea, rubbing blurry eyes and attempting to focus once again. Just before you could re-enter the zone, tapping on glass broke your focus, and you heard Draco sigh. Cracking open a window, he retrieved whatever had been sent, feeding the bird a few treats before sending it on its way again and closing out the cold chill of the December night.

He appeared moments later, his black and white Christmas-themed socks filling your peripherals.

“Another letter for you, from my mother.” Draco drawled, passing the envelope to you as you glanced up from your folders. He waved it before your face, and you snatched it with a scowl, adding in a glare for emphasis when he only laughed. “You know, she writes to you more than she writes to me these days.”

“Yes, well, we complain to one another about the terrors of you Malfoy men and how we’re supposed to put up with you.” Your words were muttered amid distraction, skimming your gaze over the letter in your hands and frowning. “Word has already gotten out about this party, and now the Prophet wants to run an article on it.”

Your voice climbed higher and higher as you spoke, until your boyfriend winced at the shrill tone you had taken on. “I wouldn't worry too much about that.”

“Wouldn’t worry— it’s the party, Draco! And now the media wants a piece! If it’s a failure, the entire Wizarding World is going to know about it by eight the following morning!”

“More like six, if they hurry it though printing—”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes, flopping ungracefully down onto the couch and stretching his body long out on it. Holding his arms open, you collapsed into them with a whine, and he kissed your forehead as he wrapped you into a tight embrace. With the letter crumpled between you both, you pressed your face into his neck, taking in a deep breath of his cologne and letting it calm you slightly.

“You’ll still love me even if I throw the worst party ever, right?”

“Yes, I’ll still love you!” He spoke through peels of sudden laughter, and the shake of his chest underneath you brought a smile to your face. Propping yourself up to peer down at him, he puckered his lips, a request for a kiss that you eagerly indulged. “And I meant it. This isn’t personal to you, this is just Skeeter trying to push a new weak point. I don’t even think she knows you’re the host yet, she does this every year. She tries to wrangle her way into an invitation through her job, and every year, my mother sneers at her letters and burns them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, my love.” Rubbing his hands up and down your back, Draco leaned up to press another loving, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Now, can you please put those folders away for the night? We haven’t set up our Christmas tree yet, and you haven’t given me proper cuddles all day.”

“Just five more minutes?” You bargained, and his lips tightened with annoyance for a fraction of a second.

“Only as long as it takes me to make two hot chocolates.”

“Deal.”

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe. Draco peered up at you from over the top of his reading glasses, folding his book silently and placing it down on the bedside table. He laced his fingers together, resting his hands across his stomach, and waited. “Whatcha’ reading?”

“A thousand and one ways to ruin your girlfriend’s Christmas party.” He deadpanned, and your smile fell, arms crossing over your chest. Straightening up and stepping into the room a little more, Draco smirked at the glare you gave him.

“If you would just help me out a little—”

“You’ve yet to apologise for what you said earlier.” He crosses his ankles casually, lounging on the bed.

“Yes, well, earlier was—”

“That’s not how apologies start.” Draco chastised, clicking his tongue. With a strangled sigh, and a slightly childish stomp of your foot, you caved. Ignoring the urge to ask him what he knew about good apologies, you instead made your way closer to the side of the bed. As you approached, he reached out, wrapping his arm around the backs of your legs and looking up at you, waiting.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you and calling you a bad boyfriend when you messed with my sticky notes. It really wasn’t that deep.” Your words were begrudging, certainly holding an underlying bitterness to them that wasn’t hidden, but Draco grinned nonetheless. “I’m just really stressed out.”

“You’re putting too much thought into this, darling. You need to relax. It’s just a party.”

“It’s not just a party! Do you realise that these people will—” Will be our wedding guests one day? Will be the people who pass judgment on my suitability to be your wife someday? Will remember this social event for the rest of their lives? It all sounded too shallow to say out loud, but somehow, it still meant something to you. “Will be so disappointed if it’s not good.”

Your boyfriend’s brows furrowed, he knew there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t push. Instead, he wrapped his arms more securely around you, tugging you down onto the bed, and you squealed as he rolled you over, your back in the blankets and his lips closing over your own in a slow kiss.

Your fingers laced into his hair, nails dragging over his scalp and he hummed happily, lips pressing more insistently into your own. Every tug and drag, every beat of his heart onto his chest pressed to yours, helped to settle the raging nerves that were sending tremors through your body.

“I know you don’t think it, love, but it’s going to be fantastic. You needn’t be so worried.”

Smoothing your hands along his cheeks, you unhooked his glasses, folding them away with a sweet kiss to his nose. Putting them down on top of his forgotten book, you decided to try your luck one more time. “Does this mean you’ll help me? Because I could really use a second opinion on—”

“Nuh-uh. My mother entrusted you with this job. And I know why.”

At your gasp, he smirked. “You do?”

“Of course, I do. This party is a tradition for generations of Malfoy women, so if you’re going to be a Malfoy woman, you’d better learn now.” At your scoff, he pressed a kiss to your lips, chuckling when you puckered and attempted to steal more.

“If you don’t help me, then you’d better find a new future woman.”

“Shan’t. Can’t. I’ve already chosen you, and the men never party plan. We’re terrible at it. Just ask my mother about when my father suggested a Weasley-orange banner for—”

“Alright, alright!” Your arms flung around his neck, pulling him in for more kisses, and leaving the conversation behind. For a little while, you were perfectly willing to let Draco help you forget your stresses.

“My darling, what are you doing?” Draco’s groggy voice split the silence of the room, and you blinked as you refocused on him. Pyjamas pants low on his hips and no shirt, a spattering of pale hair trailing down his lower stomach and disappearing into his waistband… Some absent part of your exhausted brain sparked with excitement at the sight of him. “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“What? No, it’s not. I said I’d come to bed at—”

“At midnight?” Draco yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing at the clock with the other. True to his word, it was actually past two, and a sigh slipped out.

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” Draco shuffled across the room, standing behind you and running his fingers through your hair. “This is what we’re doing now? We’re staying up all night?”

“No, no. I’ll pack away and come to bed now.” Stacking up your papers, you turned to look up at him with a smile. “I did it.”

“You did it?”

“Yes. I have officially finished the whole of my planning stage. Now, I just have to… y’know, actually put everything together and pull it off and hope it’s a success and—” His brows raised, and you took a deep breath, remembering all the steadying words he’d muttered to you over the last few weeks. “I’ll just put all this away, and come to bed, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” Draco promised, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

He padded away silently through the room, and as you scooped up a pile of papers, they slipped out of your sleep-trembling hands, spilling across the floor. “Oh, crap.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” He grumbled, returning across the room and leaning down, smacking the papers out of your hands where you attempted to clear them up. Dipping down, he hooked an arm underneath your legs, lifting you swiftly up into the air and cradling you to his chest. “They’ll still be there in the morning. Sleep, now.”

An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but he was right, and the moment your cheek touched his shoulder and your eyes slipped closed, you knew it too. You were half asleep before he’d even reached the bedroom, dropping you both onto the mattress, still warm from his body, and cradling you to his chest. A sweet kiss and a deep rumble in your ear were the last things you recalled, before curling into his chest and falling asleep.

Shaking out your hand, you whimpered a little at the pain taking over. “I’m going to end up with my hand locking in this shape.”

Daphne glared at you from across the table, clearly still unhappy about the fact that two hours ago you’d managed to rope her into helping you with this job as well. Your eyes were blurring, your hand was cramping, and you were still only halfway through writing out the invitations. You’d put Daphne on folder organisation, her voice was hoarse from reading out addresses, and creating a filing system for RSVP’s and replies for your records.

If you had to hear any more dietary requirements, special requests, or seating demands, you were going to lose your mind. Only a few more envelopes had been completed, joining the pile of ones still waiting to be sealed with wax and sent on their way, before a shooting pain shot up your arm as cramps set in.

Dropping the quill in your hand and messing up the letter before you, you cursed at the smeared ink. Rubbing your palm and digging your thumb into the tense muscles, you conceded that now was most definitely the time to take a break.

Swaggering into the room, Mattheo peered over at the mess that had become the shared kitchen table, his brows shooting up his forehead. “You two look busy.”

“I’m being held against my will,” Daphne muttered, tucking away the pages into the folder and beginning to pack away, despite your protests.

“You want some help?” Mattheo offered, and your gaze snapped to him.

“Oh, Matty, that’s so sweet…” Your lips pressed together, wincing a little bit as he eyed all of the stationary and neatly-arranged piles on the table. “It’s just…”

“Your handwriting is shocking and your organisational skills are even worse.” Daphne put bluntly, and you hid a laugh at the sulky expression on his face, even if he knew it was true. “Besides, don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Well, yes.” He spun to give you both his back as his cheeks flushed pink, opening and closing random drawers in an attempt to look busy.

You gave an excited squeal as Daphne smirked at his bashfulness. “Is it with—”

“Yes!” He huffed, the tips of his ears now turning red too.

“You really like this girl, huh? You never see the same girl twice, and this is, what, your fourth date?” Your teasing made him relent, and he at last turned around. He was picking nervously at the sweater he must’ve bought just for this occasion, as you’d never seen it before.

“Fifth, actually. We, uhh, bumped into each other last week after class and went for some impromptu coffee, and…” He scratched the back of his neck, a sweet smile taking over. “Do I look okay?”

“You look lovely, Mattheo.” Standing up, you fixed his collar for him, brushing off the shoulders of his sweater, and he preened into your touch. “Oh, wow, Daph. You have to come and see this. Is this… what I think it is?”

“What?” Mattheo panicked, turning his head to his shoulder as you rubbed the fabric between your fingers. Turning him around, he attempted to peer over his shoulder as you turned the inside of his collar out. “What is it?”

“It doesn’t say it on the label, but…”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Daphne said, feeling the fabric stretched across his shoulders. “No, no, it definitely is.”

“What? I don’t have time to change! My jumper is what?” Mattheo gasped anxiously.

“Boyfriend material.” You said, very seriously, and it took a moment for the fear to melt out of his eyes and be replaced by annoyance.

“Oh, fuck off.” Mattheo pushed you both away from him, scowling as your laughter filled the room, and the pair of you made your way back over to the table. “You two are the worst.”

“You love us.”

“I don’t know why.” He mumbled, glancing at the clock, even as his cheeks stretched into a smile. “I have to go soon. But how about I make you both a snack before I do? I can at least make a good sandwich.”

“That’s… everything.” You mumble, staring in awe at the two —almost three, filled folders of notes, invitations, floor plans and more. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

“It is?” Draco asked, through a mouthful of fried rice as he fixated on the screen. Since Mattheo’s introduction of a Muggle television into the flat, Draco had been hooked on a ‘sitcom’ a half-blood in one of his classes had introduced him to. He had written to Theo three times this week alone to update him on ‘Ross and Rachel’. Theo had given up replying last week.

“Yes. Everything, it’s all done.”

“Mhm.”

“Draco!” You snapped, and he paused the show, wide eyes moving to you as he stared innocently. “I’m done.”

It took him a moment to process before his face split into a wide grin. “You finished the party planning?”

“I did!” He put down his container of food as you dove across the couch to cup his cheeks, smacking giggly kisses onto his mouth as you took him down into the cushions with you. Large hands gripped your waist, a smile on his face as he chuckled by your ear.

“So, does this mean I get my girlfriend back, at last?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You rolled your eyes through a smile, flattening yourself out against him on the couch, content to melt into his body as he pressed play on the show. He picked up a new box, hand-feeding you dumplings in turns as the episode played on, and you chuckled between jokes and comedic pauses as you finally allowed yourself to unwind.

“Don’t you think Pansy is just like Monica?” Draco asked after a while, wincing as you screeched a laugh beside his ear at the impromptu comparison. “The need to control, that inherently irritating early-morning mentality, looking shockingly good in red—”

You pinched his side, just over his ribs, and he yelped but did not continue comparing how good other women looked in red. After a second or two of deliberation, you added, “Tom is Ross.”

“What? No. Tom is Chandler! Tom is smart and ridiculously awkward and incapable of talking to women!” Draco argued, and you sat up in his lap, shaking your head.

“No! No. Tom is Ross, the complete obsession with one specific thing and also being a massive control freak, plus, the commitment! He was adorably committed to Carol, and Rachel, bar that whole cheating moment—”

“They were on a break—” You pressed your finger over Draco’s lips to silence him.

“Anyway, I can totally see Tom accidentally getting someone knocked up, and also, you have to save Joey and Chandler for Theo and Matty!”

Draco mulled it over, “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

He pulled you back down onto his chest, and you snuggled in. Between the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the dulled tones of the easy-going TV show to send you off into a hazy place, with Draco’s fingers smoothing up and down your back.

“You look perfect.” You smiled, hands clasped under your chin as you looked at Draco in his newly fitted dress robes. This was the first time he was seeing them, the look on his face unreadable as he took in the design, fit and patterns, but you thought it was just right. “Do you like it?”

Draco looked at himself in the mirror again, straightening out the sleeves and buttoning the rather modern front, tucking one hand into a pocket. At last, he turned to you and smiled. “Well, it’s nothing like what my mother normally makes me wear, but I love it. Are you finally going to tell me the theme?”

“No! You said you didn’t want to give any opinions, so now, it’s a surprise! Nobody knows, except me!” Smoothing your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, you admired the pretty picture he painted before you, even in the dim light of your bedroom so late at night. “I have a couple of handkerchief options for your pocket, and I was thinking we could pin a sprig of holly onto your—”

Your words died in your throat in a sudden rush as a thought crossed your mind, and Draco waited, brow furrowing the longer you remained silent. “What’s wrong, you don’t like it?”

“I forgot a dress.” You whispered to yourself, shock draining from your body as realisation set in. “I got so caught up with everything else that I never ordered a dress! It’s next week, Draco! How am I supposed to find something by then, between classes and—”

“You’re okay.”

“No, this is so not okay!”

“Darling, breathe.” Draco cupped your face, kissing your lips quietly, “I have something for you.”

Opening up the wardrobe dedicated to his clothes, Draco pulled out a garment bag. Embroidered on the front in sparkling gold was the name of his family tailor, and he hooked it onto the front of the door. Unzipping it slowly, beautiful waves of green silk and jewels filled your vision, a sparkling corset and a flowing skirt that spilled out of the bag the moment it was open.

“I noticed a few days ago that you’d ordered me new robes, but not a dress for yourself. I asked my mother and Daphne, and you hadn't planned anything with either of them. So, I ordered you something.”

“Oh, Dray…” You whispered, stepping closer to admire the dress. Your fingers hovered just over the top of it, and Draco carefully lifted it out, laying it over his arm for you to better admire. “It’s perfect. How in Merlin’s name did you know?”

“Well, red, green and gold were some of the specified colours on the invitations, and I knew damn well you weren’t going to dare dress me in red, so green it was. Plus, I mentioned to my tailor that I needed a dress for you that matched whatever secret outfit you had planned for me.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and your cheeks flushed as you looked between him and the dress. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because I already picked up some jewellery for you too.” You quirked a brow, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes. “Can’t have you pulling the same nonsense you did last year, so I fetched a couple of items from the vault.”

“Can I see?”

“No. It’s a surprise. Unless, of course, there’s anything you want to tell me?” He bargained, and your jaw dropped at his audacity, shaking your head.

“I love you?”

“Hm. No. But I love you too.” Kissing the tip of your nose, he held the dress up for you. “Try this on, I want to see you in it, and see us both side by side.”

Taking it from his hands, the soft material slipped through your fingers and floated like clouds as you held it up. “Draco, I…”

Words died in your throat, unable to properly convey just how much this meant to you. Despite his refusal to get involved with the ridiculously stressful planning of the party, Draco had made sure to dote on you and take care of you all the way through. He seemed to see right through you, his expression softening as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. “Hey. You take care of everyone else, and I’ll take care of you.”

Straightening out Draco’s collar for the eighth time, you huffed anxiously when he batted away your hands. “Darling, my robes are fine. Tug on them anymore and you’re going to crease them.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.”

“Don’t be. You planned a perfect party, and you worked so hard. Let yourself enjoy it now.” Draco took both of your hands in his as he chuckled, kissing your knuckles as you conceded to his point. He was right, this ridiculous batch of nerves was far more out of a need to impress his mother than it was to impress anyone else on that invitation list, but you couldn't shake the buzz of trepidation in your veins. “Let me distract you.”

“Distract me?”

“Yes. Let me distract you.” Draco grinned, tipping your chin up with a finger underneath your jaw, and dipping his head down. His lips encased your own, a soft sound of pleasure bubbling from inside you as the taste of mint and lingering wine from his drinks with Theo spread to your tongue. Two large hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your lower back. He tugged you closer to him again, until you were crushed to his chest, no doubt wrinkling his robes, as your arms looped around his neck.

With every crush of his mouth against your own, your worries slipped further from you, letting the proximity and adoration of your boyfriend settle the unease brewing within you. Something cold brushed against your collarbones, the dipped neckline of the dress Draco had chosen for you showed goosebumps in its wake, and you pulled back with a gasp at a tug on your earlobe.

You raised your hand, a simple but elegant charmed bracelet was wrapping itself around your wrist, as your fingers brushed your sternum to feel the pendant of a necklace perfectly setting itself on your chest. In your ears, a string of diamonds now swung lightly from each one, completing your look at last.

“Perfect. Now you’re properly adorned, as Malfoy woman should be.”

“Don’t tell me this necklace is your family crest like a brand.” You teased, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger, but only the precise cuts of a perfectly-carved gem were felt beneath your finger pads, not a name or brand to be found.

“Well, I was tempted, but no. I went a little subtler, instead, I chose a very recognisable piece from the Malfoy public collections.”

His smirk made a flush rush to your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to address it before one of the Manor’s house elves popped into the empty space before you, curling a finger around its ear as it bobbed excitedly where it stood. “Misses first guests be arriving, the floo has been opened and the guest’s carriages be coming through the gates. Does miss or sirs be needing anything else, or should Fip be starting pouring the drinks?”

“Pouring drinks would be excellent, thank you, Fip.” Draco murmured, sending the elf away with one final pat on your back as he stepped away, Draco smoothed a hand down the front of his robes. With the mere wave of a hand, the large wooden doors separating you both from the grand hall began to creak open, and Draco offered you an arm. “Shall we greet our guests, my love? I’m rather excited to see your party theme at last.”

You slid your arm through his, taking one more bracing deep breath, before at last turning to see the culmination of all your hard work.

As the doors parted further, you were left breathless at the sight of the room before you. It had been transformed, from something you’d seen so many times before in so many luxurious visions, to the dream of your own making. The enchanted ceiling was that of swirling clouds and a dark, starry sky. Snow that could pass for real floated around the outside of the room in glittering flakes that disappeared into thin air before touching the floor, creating a wintery setting that was countered by the cosy and warm feel of the crackling fireplaces around the room.

Floating around the dance floor were sparkling, swirling lights that would bob and weave between the guests, keeping the lighting low and romantic as candles flickered on the tables and gave the room a wonderfully golden glow. Tablecloths brushing the floors, centrepieces made of golden flowers, wreaths and holly berries. Snow-touched Christmas trees, twinkling lights and ornaments, red ribbons, green silk, accents of gold and silver, and it all came together so perfectly. Draco walked you slowly towards the centre of the room as he took it all in, his jaw dropped as he peered around the room.

“Well, we’ve certainly never had anything like this before.” He whispered. “It feels so… cosy.”

“Do you think they’ll—”

‘Who cares what they think? Do you like it?” Draco pressed, cutting you off as the two of you stood squarely in the centre of the room, the spelled instruments in the corner starting to play classical versions of your favourite Christmas songs, and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Are you happy with it, my darling?”

“I love it.” You finally relented, pressing your lips together to quash nerves and choosing instead to revel in your masterpiece. “I wanted to tap into that old-fashioned, classical, comforting Christmas. I wanted to make my mark, I wanted something beautiful but simple, I wanted it to feel like an intimate gathering, not a social event.”

The doors at the other end of the hall opened slowly, voices from the other side filtering through, and your attention turned to that of your friends and their families. Theo whistled under his breath as he looked around, stopping abruptly at his father’s command, and he rolled his eyes when the older man wasn’t looking. Across the room, he caught your gaze, and gave an approving nod and a smirk. Pansy’s lips were curled into a smile as Daphne’s jaw dropped, admiring the enchanted sky-scene with her sister.

You moved to greet them, accepting their approval and using the warmth their comfort offered to soothe the jagged feelings inside of you and put them to rest.

The more the crowds piled in, the better you felt, slipping into polite chatter and breezy small talk as you greeted each guest to pass through. The drinks were flowing, the music was playing, and most of all, people were smiling. You’d only heard compliments, no whispered talk under anyone's breath of backhanded compliments, only genuine kindness.

By the time Narcissa and Lucius came gliding into the hall, you’d almost been reassured enough to let your guard down. However, as the regal older lady greeted all her old friends and favoured guests on her way to you, the nerves all seemed to reappear.

By the time she reached you, her hands had extended out and clutched your own as she smiled. “My, my, dear. What a party you threw, and to think you’ve been so worried. You had no need to be.”

Your jaw dropped, and you shook your head. “I-I wouldn't say worried, just a little concerned, that’s all—”

“Please, let us not hide things from one another. Draco has been writing to me, he told me you were panicking like a, what was that odd Muggle term you used, like a headless chicken?” Her nose wrinkled as you blushed, and Lucius rolled his eyes. Your glare turned to Draco, who only shrugged and sipped his drink, feigning innocence. “This is a marvellous party, I hope you’re proud of it.”

“I am. It was exhausting, though. I don’t know how you do it.” You sighed, and she smirked as she squeezed your hands before letting go.

“Did it.”

“Hm?” You questioned, and her shoulders rose and fell delicately.

“Oh, you did such a fantastic job here. You’re all anyone is talking about, and truly, I am so tired of planning these events. I think it’s due time you take over them now. The next one is February, I’ll be sure to send you all of the details.” Your jaw dropped open at her words and Draco choked a little on his champagne. His father scowled, poking him in the ribs with his cane and telling him to stop slouching and spluttering, as you tried to find words.

“Oh, I’m not sure that—”

“Lucius, dear, I think I see Tauria Parkinson. Come, I must ask her about her gardens.”

“Yes, dear.” He mumbled quietly, and she had whisked her husband away before you’d even finished your sentence and turned to Draco. With your jaw still dropped in horror and shock, he covered his snicker behind his hand.

“I can’t believe this.”

“What? She’s right. You planned a great party, and you were going to have to take over all of this one day anyway—”

“Draco!”

“Yes, dear?” He drawled, and you smacked lightly at his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re a menace. I hope you know that you will be helping with party planning. If we’re to proceed down this road, we’ll be a modern couple. None of your old-fashioned ways.” You scoffed, taking his drink from his hand and swirling the bubbly inside, before drinking the rest in a single gulp.

“None of them?” He pressed, an arm snaking around your waist as his lips brushed your neck. His lips moved to your neck, whispering some sweet, some slightly inappropriate things into your ear about honeymoon traditions, drawing a laugh from you.

“Alright, maybe a few.” You caved, tipping your head up to him just in time to catch the growing sprig of mistletoe over your head. Snaking one hand around to cup the back of his neck, you pulled his lips down to yours, brushing your mouths together lovingly. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy/you #harry potter #slytherin boys #draco malfoy fanfiction

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pastelclovds · 4 months ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: debbie x kryptonian!male!reader x nolan

cw: angst, diabetes amount of fluff, polyamorous relationship, hurt/comfort, pre s2, comfort sex, praise kink, vaginal sex, oral sex, squirting, soft dom!top!reader, spooning position, mentioned past threesomes, infidelity (andressa and nolan in the end 😬).

word count: 1.5k

authors note: continuing from this post a lifetime ago. this is my most angsty fic yet :’) enjoy 💕

the only thing that just as painful as fighting your husband, nolan, the man whom you had loved for two decades after witnessing him beat your son (mark) to a pulp: was watching your wife, debbie break into a million figurative pieces on your bed while she was holding one of nolan’s shirts.

you had always admired her independence and compassion. she taught you and nolan the history, beauty, and culture of this peculiar planet. it wasn’t long until she and nolan had stolen your heart. the house was empty and mark was off to college. you had come back home from the grocery store, a box of debbie’s favorite snacks in your hand when you caught sight of her sobbing self.

debbie was the strongest person in the universe to you. she had always put the needs of others before herself. this time, you’ll be sure to make her feel loved and supported. she didn’t push away from you as you took her into your sturdy arms, nolan’s shirt immediately forgotten.

she let’s out a sob when she felt your lips trailing from her collarbone to her neck. a few tears still manage to escape her closed lids but disappear as you kiss them away. debbie sits on your lap as she hides her swollen face on your chest.

“i’m sorry—”

“you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“how could i’ve been so stupid to believe him for all those years—?”

you gently cup her tear stained cheeks as you softly muttered, “i believed him too. nolan’s betrayal hurt us both. but you’ve been dealing with it all by yourself when we should’ve been dealing with it together, debbie. you’ve been strong long enough, for mark and myself. i’ve never been more proud of you, but now it’s your turn to let go and be taken care of. will…” she gasps when you give her waist a small squeeze, you continue to ask with soft eyes, “…you let me?”

debbie had never felt more loved in her life, she had no clue what she would do if you weren’t there by her side. the bed was never cold. your tender smile greeted her every morning. you treated her like she was a queen worthy of your worship. she was so tired of putting on a facade. tonight, she wanted to be yours.

debbie answers your question by wrapping one of her arms around your neck as her plump lips pressed against yours, to which you warmly welcomed back. all the while, her other hand snuck under your shirt and started stroking your abdomen.

you removed her shirt and unclasped her bra, debbie let out a pleased sigh as her chest was released from its cage and hung free, her nipples hardened under your lustful gaze. you didn’t waste any time in getting naked yourself as debbie continued to strip herself for you. her heart leaped when you stared at her body with the same hunger as when you first saw her naked all those years ago.

a string of slick reveals itself as debbie removes her panties when she catches sight of your toned muscles shining under the light of the sunset peeking through your bedroom window. your dick throbbed and felt heavy as debbie took it in her hand, you shallowed your groans with a steamy kiss as her fingers played with your tip.

before debbie could make a move to take you into her mouth, you stopped her. she stared up at you puzzled.

“i’m supposed to take care of you, remember? i wanna spoil you, make you feel good,” you spoke in a thick tone that it has debbie clenching around nothing. you said nothing as you picked up debbie like she weigh nothing as placed her carefully on the cold bedsheets. you spread her legs apart until you were met with the delicious sight of her wet pussy. your cock jumps and your balls made it painfully clear that they were full than ever. you wanted to dive into her body and never part, but you ceased those thoughts. this was for debbie, not you. there would be a time for that later.

debbie looked up at you with pleading eyes, you lowered yourself down on the floor at the edge of the bed. your hands continued to lovingly caress debbie’s thighs. then, without warning, you leaned your face towards her cunt and push your tongue inside her twitching walls.

“oh fuck— ah! oh, this feels so good,” debbie cried out, her legs wrapped themselves around your head. she didn’t know if it was because you were an alien or whatever, but your tongue always managed to reach the deepest depths of her better than nolan could.

debbie fists the sheets as you continue to stretch her out, but you didn’t stop there. you ravenously sucked her clit, your growls sending pleasant vibrations through out. you devoured her like an inmate on death row. debbie was reminded on how greedy you were when it came to her pussy. whether it was to eating her out or thrusting your fat cock into her, it didn’t matter. you were drunk on her and nolan’s respective holes nonetheless.

debbie let out gasping moans as your tongue flattened over her overstimulated clit and dragged it back and forth. just to throw her over the edge, you pumped your fingers in and out of her sopping pussy, curling them up and pressing them against her walls until they found her sweet spot. you stared up at her with a soft, demanding look, as if you were commanding her to let go and release all over your face.

the only sounds in the rooms were the slurping of your mouth against debbie’s sex and her uncontrollable noises and pleas for more. It was too much and perfection at the same time. debbie shook as she choked out a cry, she sees stars as her orgasm rushes through her and slick squirts over your lips and nose.

debbie laid on the bed like a stringless puppet, her eyes closed as she catches her breath. meanwhile, you rise from the carpeted floor, wipe the clear slick from your face, and use it to lube your hard cock. it had already turned bright red near the tip due to you ignoring it. now the real fun can begin. you give debbie a few minutes to rest, you handed her a bottle water to drink as you showered her in praise.

debbie flushed at the overwhelming adoration. debbie recalled another memory of you taking charge in the aftercare as nolan and debbie held each other in warm embrace after a particularly exhausting session. you made sure they were the most comfortable.

finally, you set debbie sideways on top of the soft pillows as you laid behind her, snaking your arm around her waist as you grind your dick against her entrance. debbie whined when she felt the tip of your cock touch her clit after every movement of your hips.

you peck her neck once more and whisper next to her ear, “i love you, debbie. more than anything else. you aren’t alone, this wasn’t either of our faults. you’re my strong, beautiful wife. nothing’s gonna change that.”

you hear debbie’s breath hitch before salty tears fill her eyes once again. she turns her head and holds onto your neck so she could press a kiss to your lips. your bodies were tangled up like a intimate pretzel, even if you didn’t have your super hearing, you’d still be able to hear debbie’s heartbeat due to how close she was.

nobody else but yourself, debbie and nol—

…nobody else but debbie and youself existed…

debbie pulls away from the kiss first as a few tears escape from her eyes again, she stares at you with pure love and trust as she mutters out, “thank you for everything. i love you more. please, please put it in—”

debbie trailed off and let out a sighing moan when she felt your cock fill her to the brim, your hips press flush against her. your tongue was perfect, but your dick was divine. you were going to do everything in your power to make sure nobody hurt your family again. but in the deepest corner of your mind laid a traitorous thought.

where did nolan go, and was he okay?

after you and debbie were done making love, you use your super human speed to make quick work of clean up and gave debbie one last kiss good night before covering the two of you in a blanket and sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks.

meanwhile, nolan stared up blankly at the countless stars above him from his spot on the balcony that was just outside his bedroom, where andressa slept peacefully on his bed heavy with his future child. despite how far he traveled, nolan could never run away from the memories of what he’d done. he was a disgrace to his empire, and to his family.

the picture of you and debbie appear in his mind. no matter how many times he tried to deny caring for the two of you: he couldn’t believe it himself. he wished things could’ve been different.

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fionafloating · 2 years ago

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agere-guide · 2 months ago

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🎒 Basic Gear for Agere, Petre, and Caregiving

Gear for Littles (Agere)

Stuffed animals / plushies Sippy cups or juice boxes Coloring books & crayons Blankets or weighted blankets Pacifiers / teethers (Especially if younger) Storybooks / picture books Cute pajamas or onesies Stickers / reward charts Cartoons / comfort shows access Sensory/fidget toys Soft music or lullabies Little-friendly snacks

Gear for Pet Regressors (Petre)

Ears / tail clips or headbands Collars / name tags Pet bed or blanket spot Balls / rope toys / plushies Treat jars or snack bowls Paw gloves or mittens Chew toys / chew-safe necklaces (aka chewelry) Scented toys or blankets Praise chart / obedience tokens Cute themed clothes (puppy shirt, etc.) Soft sounds / animal noises (Ambience)

❤️ Gear for Caregivers

Planner / routine tracker Activity kits (coloring, crafts) First aid / comfort bag Stuffie “doctor” kit Reminder alarms / sticky notes Reward chart / sticker sheets Calming playlist Healthy snacks / sippies “Caregiver voice” practice Personal journal or notes (Log preferences, triggers, favorite things) Extra Dips if your little uses them!! they should be able to put them on themselves, but make sure you have extras with you in case of emergency.

Show Suggestions

Bluey Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood Peppa Pig My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Sesame Street Pocoyo Masha and the Bear Llama Llama Franklin VeggieTales ANYTHING THAT COMFORTS THEM!

For Pet regressors:

Puppy Dog Pals 44 Cats Octonauts The Secret Life of Pets Kipper the Dog Clifford the Big Red Dog Aristocats Paw Patrol Blue’s Clues Wishbone

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cheapshrimpysheep · 8 months ago

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Pocky Game

SUMMARY: How would they react if you asked them to play Pocky with you? Do they already know the game? What is it like to play with them? And how would a game with them end? 💋

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers + Dateables (- Luke) = Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub; Belphegor; Diavolo; Barbatos; Simeon; Solomon.

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points; Kissing; Suggestive?

WORD COUNT: An average of 240 words per character.

COMMENTS: I've already given up questioning the lore of this game, trying to find canon in the stories of the cards and events. I'm just going to write what I want and if there's something similar in a card or something, I don't know anything anymore. 😅😭

I hope you enjoy ❤️

CONTEXT: The Pocky game is a party game played with Pocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

How to play:

Pick a partner that you wouldn't mind kissing.

Face your partner and put a Pocky stick between you. Each partner takes an end of the Pocky stick in their mouth.

Each partner bites their end of the Pocky stick until their mouths meet in the middle. The first person to pull away loses!

To ensure that the others don’t interrupt or prevent you from playing, you go to his room.

Lucifer doesn't know what game this is. He doesn't usually have much interest in being up to date on these matters. That is more a Levi or Asmo thing.

“If you want a kiss, you can just ask for it, you know?” He tells you with a seductive smile after you've explained the game. But you insist that you want to play. He sighs amused. “Fine, if you want it that much.”

He comes closer to you and gently holds your hand with which you hold the box. Without taking his eyes off yours, he opens the box, leans over to bite into one of the biscuit sticks, takes it out with his mouth and points the other side at you. Before you bite the other side and start the game, he also places his index finger and thumb on your chin to tilt your head.

He plays with that seductively piercing gaze of his fixed on your eyes. As intimidating as it is inviting.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in, taking the last bite and kissing you passionately.

He breaks the kiss but doesn't take his face away from yours, speaking with his lips still very close to yours. “Well, I played your game. Will you play mine now?” He lifts you up and carries you to his bed.

Mammon knows what game this is. Some Succubus and Incubus have already tried to convince him to play with them. “Hey, I said they tried! Of course I didn't play. Who do you think I am?” So... would he accept to play with you?

“W-with you?” He blushes. “Well, s-sure. You're the only person I wouldn't mind playin’ with.” That he wouldn't mind? “FINE, that I would like to play with. Happy now?”

Yes! You take a biscuit stick out of the box, put it in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so, blushing. He ends up letting go and relaxing as the two of you take your bites.

When the last bite comes and it's his turn, he ends the game and kisses you. It starts out relaxed, but within seconds it becomes needy. To the point that he cups your face and gets so close to you that you almost feel the need to take a step back so he doesn't completely eliminate the empty space between you.

He doesn't want to, but he breaks the kiss. “I hope you only wanted to play once, ‘cause now I just want to enjoy my prize.” He kisses you again, picks you up and takes you to his bed.

OF COURSE LEVI KNOWS THIS GAME! What kind of fake Otaku do you think he is? He even started rambling about the times he had read in mangas or seen in animes scenes like that and wanted to experience it and know what it was like.

He even goes so far as to comment on a character in a game that he loves doing this to him (the player) and... he sees you start to get upset with him. “NO, NO, NO! It's nothing like that! I swear! I mean, I like the character and I wanted to know what her route was like, b-b-but I was wondering the whole time...” He already had a small blush on his cheeks, but it got even bigger. “...ho-how it would b-b-be with y-you.” He also does that thing where he puts the tips of his two index fingers together.

Well, lucky for him, you also want to know what it's like to play with him and you have a box for that. His blush deepens, practically spreading across his entire face. BUT HE IS SO HAPPY!!! You also want to know what it's like to play this with the person you love? AND IT IS HIM? You'll need to find a way to calm him down so you can play.

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth and points the other side at him for him to bite. He will be nervous the whole time you are playing. And when the last bite comes and it's his turn, he can't take it, he stops, perhaps in a mental struggle whether he should kiss you or let you decide. You're the one who ends up deciding to end the game and kiss him.

And now, with this confirmation from you, he can no longer contain himself and wrap his arms around you. And even after you break the kiss he will want to continue snuggling with you.

Yes, Satan knows the game, or at least the description of it from some books. “You want to play it with me?” He smiles. “Of course, I would love to! I would also like to know what it is like.”

He lets you set up the game. You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and let him bite the other side. Although he's blushing a little, he maintains his composure while playing with you, while looking into your eyes with affection.

When there is only one bite left to finish, even if it is his turn, he stops. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants you to be the one to choose how you want to end the game. And you finish the biscuit stick by kissing him.

You feel his lips form a smile, his arms wrap around you and surprise you when he pulls you in a way that you lose your balance and lie down supported by his arms.

He breaks the kiss gently and looks at you to see your reaction. He smiles, happy that he surprised you so positively. He rests his forehead against yours. “I can see why people like to write about this game. Would you like to play it again?”

But OF COURSE Asmo knows this game! He tells you he's even played it before, and then regrets it a little when he sees your reaction. “Oh no hon, it was just a few quick kisses, just a little touch. Don't be sad, you know that my special kisses are aaall for you~. You still want to play with me right?” He makes puppy eyes.

“Yaaaay~” He gets so happy and excited when you say yes. He's so cute he looks like a kid in a candy or a toy store.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and he wastes no time in biting the other side. He plays the entire time with that cute smile and his eyes shining as he looks into yours. But in the last few bites, that look begins to change and become more seductive.

When there is only one bite left to finish and it’s his turn, he stops. His inviting gaze tells you he wants you to be the one to end the game and give him your love.

You do so and, as if that had been a way for you to give him permission to show his love for you, he hugs you passionately and deepens the kiss.

You're going to have to be the one to break the kiss because if it were up to him you'd stay like that for hours. “Oh, do you want to take a break? Do you want to play again? Sure! I can play with you until the box is empty. And then we can continue the kisses without the sweets right~?”

You hesitate to ask Beel about the game. I mean, it's a game that involves food... and it's Beel. But he realizes that there is something you want to tell him, so you end up giving in and telling him about the game.

He thinks he heard about the game from Levi, but the only thing he remembers is that there were biscuit sticks involved. You say you would like to play it with him, emphasis on the play.

“Don't worry, I understand what you mean. I know I'm at risk of being tempted to just eat the biscuits, but if you want to play I'll do my best to restrain myself.” He smiles warmly. “Even though biscuits may be tasty, I like making you happy more.”

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth (because if it were Beel he would simply eat it whole) and point the other side at him so he can bite. He rubs the back of one hand with the other, nervous because he's afraid he'll end up eating the whole biscuit and ruining the game. But he takes his first bite anyway.

His first two bites go well, but on the third he gives in to the temptation of chocolate and ends up taking a bite that almost ends the game. You are both surprised and he looks away sadly. But you can still take one last bite.

You take the last bite, ending the game and kissing him. You try to convey through your kiss that everything is okay and you forgave him. You realize you've made it successfully when you feel him smile, hug you and deepen the kiss.

“Hey, I liked the game, but can we separate food and kisses for now?” He says when you break the kiss. “I was really scared that I might accidentally bite you.”

Belphie recognizes the name of the game because he's heard Levi or another brother talk about it. But could you explain the rules again? It's a game that doesn't require effort and that brings you both closer together, so: “Okay, sounds fun. Who starts?”

You were going to put the biscuit stick in your mouth, but then you decided to hand it to Belphie for him to bite first, as if you were feeding him. You know he loves it when you spoil him. You bite the other side and the game begins.

He is very chill when playing and have a sweet smile on his face. There is no tension during the game, just a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn and he ends the game by kissing you softly. You stay like that for a while until the kiss is broken gently.

You keep playing until either one of you gets bored or the box is empty. After that, he will convince you to lie down on the bed and cuddle. “It's a fun game. We should play it again sometime.”

Diavolo doesn't know the game, but he's super excited to learn everything about it and play with you. He listens attentively and with a smile to your explanation. “Ha ha ha. Looks like a simple but fun game. I will play with you with pleasure.”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so with an amused smile. The game goes smoothly and without tension, just with a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game and it is his turn, he stops and looks you in the eyes. You giggle and he understands this as the confirmation he was looking for. He ends the game and kisses you sweetly.

He hugs you and pulls you gently against him. He deepens the kiss before breaking it with a big warm smile. “What a lovely game.” He caresses your cheek. “Thank you for showing it to me. Do you mind if we play it again? I really enjoyed playing it. And I enjoyed doing it with you even more. Your sweet kisses are the best thing I've ever tasted.”

Barbatos doesn't know this game, but he will be happy to learn how to play it if you don’t mind teach him. He listens attentively to your explanation and the more you talk the sweeter his smile becomes.

“I see, the rules seem simple. It will be a pleasure to fulfil such a request coming from you. Do you want to start the game or would you like me to do the honours?”

You let him start the game and hand him the box. He takes out one of the biscuit stick, puts it in his mouth elegantly, and leans forward slightly, as if bowing, so that the other side of the biscuit is level with your lips.

You bite the other side and the game begins. As expected, he is a perfect gentleman throughout the game. When there is only one bite left to end the game, even if it’s his turn, he will stop so that you can decide how you want the game to end.

You finish the biscuit stick and kiss him. His kiss is gentle and loving. You feel his gloved fingers on your chin, caressing your face until they reach your cheek, the feeling of a soft, well-cared-for fabric.

If you take too long to break the kiss, he will politely break it. He chuckles. “It will be my pleasure to provide you with all the care and love you desire. But shouldn't we distribute this feeling out across the game rounds for it to be more fun?” He brings his index finger to his chin. “Unless one round was enough for you.”

Simeon doesn't know the game, but he will be happy to learn how to play and do it with you. He smiles sweetly the whole time you are explaining the rules. “Ha ha. Sounds like a fun game. I would love to play with you. How do we start?”

You put one of the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so with a cute smile. The game goes smoothly and without tension, just with a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game and it is his turn, he eats it, kissing you. It's a kiss that starts off sweet but becomes more intense, with him cupping your face and deepening the kiss. You can feel the smile on his lips.

He breaks the kiss slowly. “Hum... This was the goal, right?” He asks slightly embarrassed. “Did I overdo it? I’m sorry if I did.” You say he didn’t, that everything is fine and that you even liked it. “Oh, really? I’m glad. I got excited when I when I felt your lips. But don't hesitate to let me know if I do, okay?”

Of course Solomon knows this game. From Asmo? Thirteen? Someone else? You will never know. “Ha ha ha. I don't remember who told me first, but I've known it for some time. Don't worry about it. I'm looking forward to playing with you. Can I start?”

You tell him he can and hand him the box. He takes out one of the biscuit sticks, puts it in his mouth, places his index finger on your chin to tilt your head and places the other end of the biscuit at the same level as your lips. When you bite it, he smiles.

Even though his face doesn't have a very different smile than usual, there's a certain mischievous tension throughout the game. The closer your faces get, the more this feeling grows.

When there's only one bite left, even though it's his turn, he stops, and looks into your eyes waiting to see what you're going to do. You finish the biscuit and the game, kissing him. You can feel his smug smile. He wastes no time in grabbing you by the waist to press you against him to deepen the kiss.

You'll have to be the one to break the kiss if you want to continue playing, otherwise he'll simply lead you to his bed.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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thatonegrimm · 2 days ago

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🌙 Saja Boys – Drabbles # 12

🧿 Jinu – “Too Much Eye Contact”

You locked eyes with Jinu across the room.

It wasn’t intentional. You were just scanning for something—your phone, maybe a charger—and there he was.

Sitting quietly in the corner, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees.

Staring directly at you.

Most people glance away when you catch them. Jinu didn’t. He held it. One second. Two. Three.

Like he was waiting for you to notice.

Your grip on your cup tightened.

You raised an eyebrow. What?

He tilted his head, just a little. What do you mean, what?

Still no words.

Something in your chest fluttered—sharp and sudden.

You looked away first.

But the weight of that look stayed. Lingering like heat on your skin.

Later, when you passed him in the hallway, he didn’t say anything.

He just bumped your shoulder lightly and murmured your name under his breath. Like punctuation.

You didn’t ask what it meant.

You just… felt it.

💪 Abby – “Your Voice”

“Say it again,” Abby said suddenly.

You paused mid-bite. “What?”

“That thing about the dumplings. How you like them best with the crispy edge.”

You blinked. “Uh… why?”

He shrugged. “Just like hearing you talk. Especially when it’s about stuff you love.”

You laughed, unsure how to process that level of unexpected sincerity. “Okay, wow. That’s… kind of romantic.”

He flushed. “Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird.”

He grinned, then looked down at his bowl.

“I dunno,” he added. “Sometimes I don’t know what to say. But when you talk like that, I feel like I get to know you better.”

Your heart thudded once, too loud.

He glanced back up, smile smaller now. “So say it again?”

So you did.

And this time, you saw the way he listened. Really listened. Like it mattered.

📚 Mystery – “Midnight Snack”

You were sneaking into the kitchen like a criminal—socks barely touching the floor, phone flashlight guiding your path—when you froze.

Mystery was already there.

Standing in the faint glow of the fridge, backlit and silent. Eating dry cereal straight from the box with monk-like composure.

You whispered, “That’s cursed behavior.”

He looked over his shoulder, totally unfazed. “It’s efficient.”

You padded over, grabbing the edge of the counter. “Don’t you want a bowl?”

“I’m not a bowl person,” he replied.

You stared. “What does that mean?”

He nudged the box toward you.

You took a handful and leaned against the fridge with him in companionable, 3AM silence.

He added, “You always come down around this time. I figured I’d run into you eventually.”

You glanced sideways.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice softened: “Glad I did.”

💋 Romance – “Makeup Room”

The makeup room lights were warm, but Romance glowed on his own.

You walked in, mid-sentence, and stopped short. He was seated at the mirror, eyeliner half-done, lips already tinted. One hand lifted to fix his hair, the other lazily flipping a brush between his fingers.

He saw you watching. Smiled.

“Do I look pretty?” he asked.

You exhaled. “You know you do.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I want to hear you say it.”

You swallowed thickly. “You look stunning.”

The smile didn’t fade. Just… changed. Softer. Real.

He turned slightly, no longer facing the mirror. Now he was facing you.

“You look at me like I’m more than that,” he murmured.

Your voice caught.

He gave you a chance to say something. But you didn’t.

So he just went back to his eyeliner, as if he hadn’t gutted you.

The silence wasn’t awkward. Just honest.

🔥 Baby – “Spicy”

You took one bite of his fire noodles. Immediate regret.

Tears welled in your eyes. Your mouth sizzled. You reached for the nearest drink and coughed like your ancestors felt the spice.

Baby sat across from you, smirking like he’d won something.

“Too much?” he asked.

“This isn’t food,” you wheezed. “It’s revenge.”

He handed over his drink without a word. “I warned you.”

“Barely!”

“You said you could handle it.”

You glared. “My tongue is in the astral plane.”

He snorted. “Your face is really red. It’s kinda cute.”

You flipped him off with trembling hands. He grinned wider.

Later—when you were still sniffling and dramatically sprawled on the couch—he appeared with cold milk and your favorite snack.

“Still think you’re tough,” he muttered, placing them gently beside you.

You didn’t say anything.

But you let him sit next to you.

And he didn’t move away.

M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble @moonlit-koraline @reixtsu @ghostiiess

#kpdh x reader #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #mystery x reader #romance x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpdh

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nfwmb-gvf · 9 days ago

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just keep rolling...

dr. jack abbot / reader

summary: sometimes it takes a little bit to get things rolling between you and jack...

warnings: mentions of minor injuries, drinking

a/n: i started writing this a few months ago before the season even ended so i am very happy to finally be getting this out. i wrote it as gender neutral so there shouldn't be any physical descriptors. yearning!jack and also kinda shy!jack idk it just kinda happened. pretty much entirely fluff (my two children are left clean and untouched by the horrors). this is completely self absorbent i needed skater jack abbot and this is what happened!

wc: ~5.1k

dividers from @saradika-graphics

The first time it happened was after a long shift.

While the day shift got a beer and quiet in the park after a long day, the night shift got an assortment of baked goods, the quiet chirps of morning birds, and the occasional sighting of a deeply motivated runner out on their morning jog.

You stepped out into the morning sun with a slight chill. Pittsburgh had survived yet another winter, but the spring mornings left a cool sort of frost that couldn’t be shaken yet. Ellis, Shen, and a few night shift nurses sat with steaming cups of strong coffee in hand on the benches that saw probably more PTMC workers than intended.

But of course, there was Abbot too. Jack. Sitting quietly but engaged on the edge of the group, taking in the unhurried chittering of the group with slow nods.

Shen catches you in his periphery first, giving a nod before announcing, “Late to the party!”

A gentle eye roll and smile is all you give him as you take an empty spot near Jack’s bench. The go bag you have slung over one shoulder hits the bench first, your water bottle and old energy drink that didn’t (and won’t) get finished go next, but then a second bag (a new one, Jack notes) falls next to it all with a clunk. Then, your feet are moving on their own accord to where Ellis is propped, sitting on the backrest of the bench, with the white printed box of carbs and coffee laid by her feet.

Lifting the lid, you mutter, “Ah shit, must’ve missed the good stuff.” Your eyes flit over the box’s contents, your usual post shift snack missing from the arrangement.

Ellis gives a sympathetic shrug, but Shen butts in before she can speak a word, “How does the saying go? You snooze, you lose?” He raises his eyebrows your way before taking a strong sip on his iced coffee. The small smile he gives lets you know he's just teasing.

You throw another eyeroll and give him a gentle shove.

Shutting the box and grabbing a hot cup, you walk back to your bench, explaining your lateness to the group. “It’s not my fault, charting a patient with a candle where the sun doesn’t shine happens to be more complicated than you'd think.” You sit with a huff.

Abbot, his eyes never having left you since your arrival to the scene, gives you a sideways smirk. Your eyes find his briefly, and you give him a soft one in return.

You return to Shen, “Besides, having to figure out how to carry all this extra crap while getting through the heavy exit doors slowed me down”.

Abbot glances at the bags next to you, and goes to comment on it before Shen claps both hands on his knees and goes to rise.

“Alright everyone, enough for me.”

This seems to awaken the once passive mood of everyone on the benches, the small talk turning into soft farewells and “see you tonight”s. Some people pass by you, and you offer them a small smile in return, settling further into the bench with no intention of moving anytime soon.

After everyone has left, and the last of the muffins have been picked over, Abbot and you are left at the benches. You take a deep inhale and raise your eyes upward, admiring the soft rays of light as they peak through tree branches, refracting and reflecting on the dew drops that hang from each leaf.

“Candle where the sun doesn’t shine?” A low voice grumbles, the teasing smirk evident in his voice. It’s the first thing he’s said since you’ve set foot in the park.

You set your eyes forward, head shaking back and forth slowly with a soft smile of your own, “Can’t say it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You turn to look at him fully for the first time when you see him shift in your peripherals.

A strip of sun lays just right on his face, and for a second looking at him almost becomes too much. All day everyday you see him under the constant glow of bright, clean lights. Seeing him bathed in the soft yellow of day sets something alight in you, something that only breathes in the quiet moments you’ve silently shared in the many years you’ve worked side by side.

Your trance is broken when he stretches across the bench under where his jacket lays on his side. He pulls out something, wrapped in a pink napkin – the ones that come customary with every order from the bakery where the early morning goods are supplied. He offers it your way.

“Figured you might get tied up.” His eyes reveal nothing.

With a confused look, you take it gently from him. Your body pays no attention to the sleepiness that engulfs itself as a zing goes down your fingers at the faint brush of your hands together.

It’s a subconscious reaction you’ve been fighting to control for years now.

You gently unwrap the napkin to see your favorite sweet tucked neatly inside, careful and delicate.

“I -, you didn’t have to -,” you turn and beam at Jack, settling on “thank you.”

He shrugs and looks forward, like he didn’t take the risk of actually grabbing something from the box for once and getting a few jabs from Shen and Ellis after realizing you might take longer than normal to get to here. Like he hasn’t spent every shift memorizing what snacks were your favorite. Like he hadn’t spent the whole shift glancing at you, looking across the room for you, or thinking about you in basically any capacity.

Very casual.

It was always like that between you two, however. A protein bar here, a gentle pat of encouragement there. All unspoken. It was like you and Jack have always operated on some sort of frequency no one else tuned into.

The feeling swells again.

He blinks, seemingly brought back from his contemplation, and looks back. He nods towards the bag with a curious expression.

“Oh! This?” You set the pink napkin wrapped gift delicately next to you before reaching for the bag. Inside is a set of roller skates, the wheels clearly worn but brilliant nonetheless. Four wheels and very eighties, just a hobby picked up from COVID. “Occasionally I skate around after work. We don’t really have a good set of bike racks around here so this is sort of the next best thing when I need a little more time to decompress after a shift…” You trail off, spinning a wheel as you fidget.

With no response from him, you look back up. “It’s kind of lame isn’t it,” you say, using that brand of self-deprecating humor that creeps up when you begin to feel embarrassed. There’s truly no reason to be, it just felt a little silly to be telling someone like Abbot that one of your preferred decompression activities involved pushing yourself around on skates like a middle schooler.

His mouth creases a bit as he frowns and shakes his head, “Didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but, y’know, no one wants to see their doctor on rollerskates, right?” There it is again.

“Wouldn’t say that.” He has a look on his face you can’t quite decipher.

You shrug, smiling a little to yourself. You shrug off the unnecessary embarrassment as your finger spins one of the front wheels again.

You reach down to slip your shoes off your feet, suddenly sparked to life again.

He eyes you wearily as you begin to lace them up. There's equal parts amusement and equal parts something uniquely grumpy about him.

You stand up slowly from the bench (and Jack has half the mind to reach out and steady you), but you begin to roll forward with little momentum.

You look at him with a little shrug, almost as if to say “watch this!”

You start to push yourself around, swaying gently back and forth. There’s no intention or motive, just simply taking a few loops. You circle around Jack, who cranes his neck either way to keep his eyes on you the whole time.

“I know I’m not that old, but something about just taking the time to skate makes me feel like a kid again,” you say, slowly coming to a stop in front of Jack. As if you needed to explain anything.

His eyes bore into yours, the soft dew surrounding you for a brief moment. All he can see is how your eyes twinkle. A slow nod is all he manages.

“You ride those all the way home?”

“Oh god no,” a small laugh and head shake, “I think my legs would turn into jelly.”

You kick one stopper against the ground, “I, uh, there's a local park. Some kids are out before school and hang around there. I teach them how to skate sometimes.”

Jack's eyes glimmer. How like you to spend all night battling the horrors of the world in such a caring manner, only to get off shift and become a caregiver once more.

You shrug again, slowly riding back over to the bench and plopping down. You don't reach to take off the skates just yet, but spin them a bit as you drag them against the ground - kicking your feet gently like you were eight again.

A deep inhale, “I used to skate.”

You turn quickly, looking towards Jack. He’s looking forward, his eyes a little wistful. Almost like he’s somewhere else.

“Yeah?” You offer softly.

“Yeah,” a pause, “A long time ago…would skateboard around.”

His foot shifts a little bit, like remembering what the feeling was like was enough to send a sensation to something that wasn’t there.

Your heart swells just a little bit.

Only then do you reach down, untying the loose laces.

“Well, you’re welcome to join sometime,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You can’t bring yourself to look up from the tops of your shoes. “I’ve got a board too, although I prefer to stick with these guys.”

He stares forward for a beat longer before looking at you. Only when you see him move is when you turn to look.

He gives a soft nod, something between acknowledgement and agreement.

You nod back.

A few weeks go by before the topic is ever brought up again.

You had been covering the day shift for three days now, and today was the first day that you felt your brain had somewhat caught up to the change in schedule. But that didn’t mean much for today, you were already down one doctor and it felt like a storm just trying to keep up with the normal inflow. However, when a bus full of college athletes flips on the highway mid-afternoon, everything becomes a bit too much.

So it doesn’t surprise you to see a familiar ER cowboy come slinking in with his camo backpack slung over his shoulder.

You had just finished attending to a smaller head lac, offering to go find her a blanket, when you see Jack. Your body seems to subconsciously relax knowing he’s there, especially after not having seen him for three days now.

“Thought you were off today?” You say once you get close enough.

His lips give a downturned smile and he shrugs softly.

You nod in understanding, “No rest for the wicked.”

That gets you a real smile.

You take a step back instinctively when the sound of the ambulance bay doors come crashing open again, snapping back to the instincts that push you through the non-routine routine of the ER.

With one nod your way, he moves to put his bag in the lockers. And you, you stand there dumbly while you try to remember what you were just doing before salt and pepper curls invaded your thoughts.

The shift ends without fanfare. It’s a minor miracle that everyone from the highway accident ends up okay, and that the shift “quiets” down after everyone is treated.

After final rounds are made, and you bump elbows with Ellis to hand off any final patients, it was time for your day to come to an end.

You open your locker, your regular backpack sits at the front, but right behind sits that familiar tote bag. You groan internally. You had left your skates here for more than a few days now, and they really should come home at some point. Not only that, but a penny board sits in the bag, too. One of the kids had been asking, and it's difficult to say no to them (and maybe part of you was hoping someone else could get some use out of it, too). Today was just not the day that you wanted to lug them back with you.

But I guess that was every day that they had sat there so far.

Princess appears by your side right as you’re closing your locker, both bags slung over your shoulder. You’ve worked with her more than a few times now, and she’s definitely one of your favorite nurses to have when things go south.

“A couple of us are going to decompress in the park for a bit…” The implication doesn’t have to be said to know what she means.

You go to give her an answer, but your eyes drift over her shoulder to where Jack hunched over a computer trying to finish up the last of his own notes.

Princess looks at you expectantly.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a bit.”

That satisfies her.

As she walks to the exit, you head towards Jack. You sidle up alongside him.

“A couple of us are headed to the park, care to join?”

He looks up at you and the rejection he typically gives to anyone who asks that question falls flat on his tongue.

“Sure,” leaves his mouth before he can realize that what he said wasn’t no. “I’ll be there.”

You give a gentle nod to the last of the electronic filing he had, “I can wait while you finish that up.”

That seems to fluster him a bit more.

By the time you both have exited the doors of the ER, the party has well and truly started. There’s a small crew on the park benches - Robby, Mohan, Mateo, Javadi, Whitaker (surprisingly), Princess, and Donnie.

Now Princess is all well and good on her own, but Princess and Donnie? That’s where there’s an issue.

Two cans get tossed your way, one to you and one to Jack, but Princess and Donnie continue to stare long after you set your stuff down. You go to sit down before you hear someone clear their throat. They raise their eyes at you…and you look back, truly confused.

Then you remember.

“Really? I thought you guys were kidding about that,” you stare down at the unopened beer can.

“Nope!” Donnie tosses you his key chain.

You catch it, albeit reluctantly.

“I’m not in med school anymore,” you groan, “nor have I been for a while now,” comes a little quieter after.

Javadi tunes in at the mention of med school. “What’s up?”

“The three of us made a bet on a stolen ambulance and our friend here,” Donnie tips his beer your way, “has yet to fulfill their end of the bargain”.

“Guys that was weeks ago at this point,” you groan further.

“And it’s been weeks since we’ve seen you,” Princess retorts.

“Might I also add that you were the one confident enough to not only bet money but also a shotgun on this based on a gut feeling,” Donnie adds.

You turn to Jack, giving him a look to ask him to back you up.

But all you get is a mischievous grin in return. “Go on, doctor.”

You look up, then back down again, then sink one key into the bottom of the can. You slip one finger under the tab, slowly tip the can up to chug, and crack it open.

It’s slower than your med school days, but you still get a round of ceremonious cheers when you finish. You shake your head as you finish, wiping the stray drop at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You’re setting a great example,” Robby chimes teasingly. Because that makes you feel better.

You toss Donnie his keys back, and get another beer in return.

And when you finally sit down next to Jack on the bench, he gives you a proud smile and tips his beer your way. You laugh softly and clink the cans together.

It isn’t long after the shotgun stunt that people start to excuse themselves from the group. Mateo and Javadi take off at some point (which gets you an eyebrow raise from Princess). Whitaker whispers something about having left something inside his locker and that he had to go back in. When Donnie begins to pack up, everyone else takes it as their cue to start heading out as well. You grab another beer before he closes the lid to the cooler, you don’t have to work tomorrow anyways.

And it’s you and Jack alone at the park again.

It’s still. And you suppose it’s cold, too, but the two beers you have had so far leave a gentle thrum underneath your skin.

You break the silence first with the crack of your third can.

Jack huffs a silent laugh as you take your first sip. Only this time, you don’t bother to hide the gentle grimace.

“Do you even like that?” He asks quietly.

“Jury’s still out, I think,” is your response. “Not my first choice, but it gets the job done.” Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask - “What about you?” The question comes out clunky and not at all conversational in the way you would have liked.

He nods, “I’m with you on that.”

“Well that surprises me, I think.”

“You think?”

You mull on it a little bit, “Yeah, I figured you would be. Are you sure you’re not out and around Pittsburgh hitting up all the craft breweries?”

He chuckles, “There aren’t any open at the time I’m out anyways.”

You giggle a little bit at that.

You just can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your eyes are anywhere else - the streetlamps, the tops of your shoes, anything. You blame it on the alcohol, the fact that you’re alone, the fact that he’s been staring at you for the past five minutes and basically the entire night up to this point with the intensity that really only Jack Abbot could carry.

And when you do go to look at him, your eyes get snagged on that tote bag that separates the two of you.

“Oh!” You’re positively delighted by this discovery.

The beer gets abandoned on the bench. You immediately take off your shoes, hands diving into the bag and pulling out the delighted skates, and you pull them on without hesitation.

You stand up with a “woo!” and push yourself forward.

The first time you catch Jack’s eyes all night is when you look at him, full of delight, enchanted by the skates again.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You push yourself back to the bench again, going straight back to the bag. You pull out the penny board and look at Jack with wide eyes and an expectant grin.

Instead of the excitement you were expecting him to match you with, the look you see is one of apprehension. Maybe a small bit of melancholy.

It makes you drop your smile immediately.

“Or not! You…don’t have to, at all. I know it’s been a few….because of…,” your voice trails. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth as you stumble over what you want to say. Your brain feels like it's tripping over itself to find what he wants to even hear.

You end up on: “I’m sorry,” as you move to put the board back in the bag.

“It’s okay,” he says. His hand stops you before you can pick the tote bag up. “I want to try.”

“Yeah?” A small smile creeps back onto your face.

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Like the pure excitement thrumming off of you couldn’t power whole cities, like it didn’t pain him to see that excitement deflate at the thought of offending him.

He could do this, for you.

He stands up in the exaggerated old man way that makes you giggle as you hand off the board to him. He sets the board down in front of him, and it's almost a muscle jerk reaction to place his foot on the board to stop it from rolling.

It feels…odd. Jack doesn’t have the same stability he used to as his prosthetic sits on the board. Or, at least, it’s more difficult for him to sense out the balance needed to push himself forward.

For a moment, he gets stuck. He wants to push his leg forward and start the roll of the board, but his leg feels locked in place. Jack knows how to do this. He’s done it so many times before, but that was years ago. Decades ago. During a time when both of his legs were his. Beyond the kicked up dust storm of memories this brings, he thinks he would have to move out of the country if he went to move forward and fell flat on his face.

Standing in front of him, you notice his stare becomes fixated on his leg. You see the rush of emotions that pass across his face - confusion, uncertainty, apprehension.

“Need help, cowboy?” You hope it comes across as light.

Jack looks up, finally. The storm clears when he sees your face looking back at him expectantly, how at ease you are standing there.

A small smile and a chuckle, he feels a little ridiculous for being scared. “Probably.”

That’s all it takes for you to position yourself beside him and loop one arm in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. As you stand side by side, his face is right next to yours.

“You’ve got this,” you say with such sweetness in your voice he’s sure he might melt. “Besides, if you fall, I’m going down with you. Then we can both laugh at our stupidity.”

He turns his face away and shakes his head with a huff of a laugh before looking back at you.

“Ready?” You say.

“As I’ll ever be,” is the response you get before he gives a timid push forward.

As both of you start to roll, Jack gives another push before setting his foot on the board. He feels wobbly, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s out of practice or your hands on him make him short circuit just a bit.

He doesn’t get a chance to think about it any further because you let out a short, “WOO!” as you both continue around the park. After a bit, you’re the one pushing the both of you forward, as Jack stays stable on the board.

You look at him with a beaming smile (that he should have seen for what it truly is - mischievous) as you ask him, “Ready?”

Just as his eyebrows begin to furrow and ask you what you meant, you let him go with a gentle push. The change in balance only throws him off a bit before he finds his “footing” again and he continues to skate forward on his own.

It isn’t long before his confidence builds and he maneuvers to turn around without a hitch. Right back to you.

“Good job!” You cheer, skating over to be by Jack again, once forgotten beer back in your hand (if Jack sees, he makes no comment).

The park is quiet, no one around, but the thrum of blood rushes through your ears loud enough to compensate.

You like seeing Jack like this, sporting a small smile meant only for himself while doing something he once loved.

Okay, fine, maybe that shotgun just really went right through your system. Maybe the other two were hitting a bit harder than you thought. But now, beer in hand and skates on your feet, you feel a little silly.

It doesn't help that your adrenaline was through the roof, giggling to yourself as you watch Jack push himself gently around on his board. You giggle once again.

“Jack!” You gasp when the idea comes to you after a healthy swig of beer. “Jack, Jack, jack, jack, jack,” his name comes spilling out of your mouth, your tongue getting twisted on the consonants before righting itself.

“YOU! Should pull me and then we could go super fast!”

He shoots you a look of amusement.

A stupid idea, a pair of wheels, and a few drinks? Sounds like the start to any ER trip.

However, there's no slur to your words and you seem to balance yourself alright. You just seem - loose, relaxed. The giddiness you have just seems like a side to you he hasn't quite gotten to yet.

He relents and gives you a wave to “c'mere.”

You slide on over, and take his outstretched hand. The warmth stored in his palm immediately seeps through your body, spreading from one end to another. You almost wished you had wiped your hands on your scrub bottoms first before reaching out.

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Ready?”

You nod with a grin.

Then he pushes off on one foot, barely fast at all, but you let out a soft squeal as you're pulled. You give yourself a little push as well, trying to gain some momentum.

All original ideas of going fast fly out the window as you fall side by side, both pushing a little when needed. Your hands never let go, however.

You spare a glance his way, then give a devilish smirk. With a hard push off of your right foot, you go to get in front of Jack.

You giggle softly as you stare at him head on, now skating backwards.

He huffs, “Show-off.”

There's a smirk hiding soft in the dimple on his cheek.

You continue to ride backwards, “What can I say, I guess I'm just a pro-”

Your gloating is cut off, abruptly ended by a raised piece of sidewalk. You crash backwards, landing promptly on your butt and partially on your arm as you let out an undignified squeal of surprise.

The beer rolls sadly into the grass.

Jack stops immediately in front of you, letting the board roll backward slowly as he immediately goes to your side.

You sit up immediately, no broken bones or hits to the head. You pull your elbow up to look at it, though. There's a healthy scrape there from when you caught yourself. You let out a soft hiss as you look at the damage.

“You okay?” His eyes are full of worry, immediately scanning you up and down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, trying not to worry him as you flick a pebble off of your elbow.

You were fine, truly. The scrape burned like a son of a bitch, but you were feeling more embarrassed than anything. If that squeal was recorded and played at any point, you’re sure you just might keel over and die of embarrassment.

He very gently takes your elbow to assess the damage. “We should get this cleaned.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you object. “If we go back inside they’ll rope us into something and then we’ll never leave.”

Jack gives you a pointed look. It almost makes you laugh.

“I’m fine! I promise, I’ll just wash it out when I get home. No fuss.” You smile at him gently.

“Although…you could kiss it and make it better,” the words slip out before you can even process that it’s a thought that you have.

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but then he drops a soft kiss to the uninjured skin on your elbow.

“Better?” His voice is soft, meant for only you. You’re sure you’re gaping at him with a stupid surprised look, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every nerve is on fire but you’re frozen still.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. Your eyes flicker to his lips without even meaning to. You can still feel the spot on your arm where they touched, and, yeah, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He moves just a little closer and you’re sure the entire city block can hear your heartbeat at this point.

Jack drops his forehead to yours slowly, and then your noses brush. He waits for any sign of a no, but it’s washed away when you breathe out “please”.

He doesn’t wait after that.

Jack’s lips capture yours and it feels like relief. Your hand immediately goes to cradle one side of his face and you can feel the small amount of stubble scratch your fingertips.

Your lips move together for a while before you start to feel desperate, wanting more. You go to move to put your other hand on his shoulder but you bump your elbow against him and immediately pull away. You hiss and look at your elbow again before giving him a sheepish smile.

He smiles brightly at you, and you swear it splits your soul in half.

“Alright, we should really clean that,” he says.

“Yeah maybe,” you laugh.

“Although…it’s a little difficult to reach…I might need some help,” you start teasingly.

He grins back at you, trying to figure out where you’re going with this.

“And, you know,” you continue, “we can’t go back inside the Pitt…so maybe you should help me back at mine?” Your voice tilts upwards at the end, like you can’t really even believe you’re asking him this.

You stare at him with bated breath.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Jack says, before leaning down to steal another kiss.

a/n: AHH! THANK YOU FOR READING! please let me know what you think and also please flood my inbox because i truly would love to keep writing. okay love you bye!

#the pitt #shawn hatosy #jack abbot #dr abbot #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #the pitt hbo #the pitt hbo max #the pitt x reader #megs writes

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