#THE SECOND ONE.... HIS SIDE PROFILE MAKES HIM LOOK MORE STONED | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellieslittlewh0re · 4 months ago

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OIL & WATER - VI X CAIT

pair - Vi x Caitlyn (arcane)

synopsis - years had gone by, Caitlyn was the chief of police and vi was, well, vi was too busy living in the past. Something about an illegal fighting pit was brought to Cait’s attention, and she decided to check it out. What she didn’t expect was to see her ex girlfriend there, and not only that, she was one of the champions.

tags - NOT SPOILERS!!! smut, blood mentioned, switch vi, switch cait, pussy & ass eating, fingering, humping, kinda sad idk

It was humid that night, and the air felt more dense down here than on topside, fumes from surrounding factories making it hard to breathe.

Caitlyn had her reasons for being in the lanes tonight. It was brought to her attention earlier in the month, some commotion surrounding pit fighting.

As far as she’s aware though, it had nothing to do with shimmer, Jinx or Silco’s still very much active posey, even in death, that being said, she couldn’t give less of a fuck, but being chief and all, the least she could do is check it out.

Thankfully, or maybe not depending on who you ask, the tips she was fed were right, and this wasn’t a complete waste of time.

It was an unassuming location, tall, but fit right into the neighboring buildings, wedged between the two and countless others that stretched out into a narrow maze.

As she stood, waiting, watching, the dim light outside flickered a green haze as she observed the people leaving and entering- consistent and rough, definitely the type of place she should’ve brought backup for.

But, as stated previously, she didn’t give a shit.

She started to walk towards the door, pulling the jacket tighter to her chest, and kept her head low. She wasn’t in her uniform, and tried the best to wear something to make her fit in, but her memory of the fashion down here was a little hazy.

She entered, heavy mental blaring loudly over the many speakers, the crowd even louder.

A man’s voice louder than the rest came over the intercom, the reverb making it hard to distinguish, but the crowd seemed to understand, and they liked what they were hearing.

As she continued further into the building towards the center where the action seemed to be, she stumbled, a hard shoulder trusting into hers.

“Fuckin’ watch it.” The man spat as Cait held her arm, his gold teeth flashing.

She definitely didn’t belong here.

Luckily for her, the man continued on without it escalating further than a scowl on his face and insults muttered under his breath.

Or maybe he’s the one who’s lucky.

She approached the buildings sunken center, doors on either side of the pit opening, and more incoherent yells coming from the announcer and the crowd as it was time for the show to start.

On the left, a large man, freakishly large, his mouth open, and face red as he yelled into the crowd, fists raised up high.

“Jesus”, Cait shuddered in thought, holding the edge of her hoodie by the side of her face, shielding her profile from those in close proximity.

Caitlyn’s mind raced as she absorbed the environment around her, surely, no sane person would go against him, or if they did, they didn’t plan on leaving here tonight alive, which was the only conclusion that seemed logical to her.

She stared at the other door, pitch dark on the other side, and waited for the opponent, but seconds passed and no one showed.

Maybe he chickened out? That wouldn’t be totally irrational.

Caits vision shifts to the man in the ring as he circled around, his fists banging on the metal walls like he was in an adrenaline induced rage, yells from the impatient crowd only fueling it.

But that’s when the man stops yelling, a stone cold expression taking over as he looked to the other side of the pit.

Her eyes followed to where he stared.

The second champion had arrived.

It wasn’t a man at all, but a woman, hair jet black, and smudged makeup around her eyes and down her cheeks to match.

Cait couldn’t help the way her jaw slightly dropped, a fastening in her breath that also went unnoticed at this time.

They stood far apart on either side of the pit, circling around each other like they were waiting to see who would lunge first.

The man was clearly impatient, itching to land a hit on the women, whereas the woman was more composed- serious, but ready, holding her fists out in front of her, blood already soaking through the bandages around them.

Does she fight here often?

Was this even her first fight of the night?

Cait had many more questions and that woman could be the key to answering them.

A bell rings out, and the man doesn’t waste a second to fling himself across the pit, but just as his fists are about to connect, the woman dodges, avoiding his advances, and lands a blow to the center of his stomach.

He falters. It was slight but noticeable, not just to the crowed but to the women as well.

She uses this to her advantage, and lands another fist to his face, blood now smearing the side of his jaw.

This angered the man, causing him to lash out, and an eagerness to connect his tight fist to her body, but that’s where he fucked up.

She was smaller than him by a long shot and lighter too, one second she was there, centimeters away from feeling his wrath, and the next she was both behind him and somehow, also, one step ahead.

It was almost unlike anything Caitlyn has ever seen, but it reminded her of someone.

Cait continued to observe, eyes glued to the mystery fighter, and didn’t dare look away.

It’s like she was toying with him. At many times, she could’ve ended it, but didn’t, instead she’d let him get up only to send him flat on his face again.

It was equally impressive as it was terrifying, and if Caitlyn wasn’t a police officer sent to scope out the place, she’d be offering her respects to the woman.

To Cait, it couldn’t have been more than a 5 minute fight, like it was over before it even started.

But in the same breath, she saw it all so vividly, a slow motion picture that she could’ve described in agonizing detail.

The dark haired woman celebrated, her fists high up in the air and her teeth baring, the crowd sound colliding like a mixture of both celebrations and defeats.

Finally being able to put a face to the voice over the speaker, Caitlyn watched as the man, microphone still in hand, greeted the women in the pit, and held her and up by her wrist, the crowd chanting something that she couldn’t quite comprehend- A name of sorts, not a real one, but a stage name.

She was known here, that much was obvious, and based on her performance tonight, it’s no surprise.

The woman was handed what looked to be a satchel of money before she turned her back towards the crowd, and disappeared back into the dark from which she came.

In Caitlyn’s awe, she almost forgot why she was there in the first place- to gather information, and the one who she wanted to talk to was no longer in her sights.

She lets go of the railing, fingers slightly stiff from how hard she had gripped it during the fight, and leaves the building.

Once outside, Cait searched for the mystery woman, narrowing her eyes down the outstretched alleyways, but it was like she really had disappeared without a trace, in fact, almost no one was around.

Caitlyn should’ve left. Should’ve called it a night, and come back around the same time next week in hopes she’d see the woman again, but all logic seemed to slip from Cait’s mind.

Instead, she rounds the building, and walks down an even narrower corridor towards the back of the building, looking for another exit the women could’ve slipped out of.

Part of her didn’t expect to see her again, but she did.

The woman was about 50 feet away, walking with her back towards Caitlyn, the patch on the back of her leather jacket only noticeable as she passed under the sparse lightning.

Cait’s hands slipped into her pockets, head low, and kept at a safe distance as she began following the woman.

She could be dangerous for all Cait knows. And usually, Cait would think things like this through before doing something as stupid as following a stranger home in a territory that’s mostly unfamiliar to her.

But it’s not like she was going to engage with the women, not tonight anyway, and certainly not alone.

Sometimes, some things go well beyond your control, chief of police or not.

The woman once again disappears from Cait’s sight as she turns the corner up ahead, and Caitlyn uses this time to close the gap by picking up her pace.

As she rounded the corner, she pauses, confusion in her face once she realized the woman was gone.

Caitlyn continued anyway, thinking the woman had lived in the area, and she had simply turned off into one of the many smaller alleyways.

The heel of her boot rang a hallow clunk in the otherwise still surroundings as she stepped forward, a faint scuff being heard from behind just as she was about to take another.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you following me?”

Cait freezes, slowly bringing her hands up to submit to whatever violence was about to pursue, but still didn’t answer the voice coming from behind.

Even her voice was familiar.

“Are you seriously going to make me ask you again?”

Cait could tell her silence only angered the women more, but she didn’t really think ahead enough to come up with a cover story in case something like this were to happen because she wasn’t supposed to fucking engage tonight.

“I- I’m a fan.” Caitlyn finally speaks, and god, did she feel stupid.

“What?”

“I saw you fight tonight. I’m a fan.”

This was Caitlyn giving it her all- a lie disguised as a genuine excuse for following her, but maybe that’s not all it was.

And this was also about the time the woman knew that this wasn’t just some random stranger.

“Caitlyn?”

Cait’s hands slowly descended back to her sides as she turns, coming face to face with the woman.

It took her a second, and in hindsight, it was so obvious- the fighting, and how she moved-

“Violet?”

They both stood there at a loss for words, and memories of the past on replay, their eyes being the projector.

There was a silence between the two, but there was so much being said in that silence, but none of it seemed to matter right now.

Cait’s eyes glanced down, noticing the droplets of blood on the cobblestone at Vi’s feet.

“You’re bleeding.”

Vi holds up her hand, the white of the gauze no longer visible from her wrist down.

She sighs, her chest noticeably falling deeper.

“Go home, Cait.”

Caitlyn watches in bitter suit agony as Vi turns away from her, leaving her behind, and it’s like she was right back in the place, her mother dead and Vi nowhere to be seen or heard from again.

“I can’t.”

Vi pauses, glancing back over her shoulder, and waited for an explanation that didn’t look like was coming.

Cait looks elsewhere, the floor, walls, the light post a few feet away… anywhere except for Vi, which is ironic because that’s the only thing she wanted to look at.

She stumbles over words, and opened her mouth before she shuts it again.

It’s been awhile since Cait has felt like this- so unsure and out of control, even lying, which isn’t out of the ordinary for her job, but it was never her taste.

She was desperate. Hurt.

It was a job turned personal, and she wanted answers.

“You’re under investigation. I’m going to have to ask some questions.”

Cait sounded like it didn’t phase her, professional and cold- like it totally didn’t make her want to crawl inside her skin and die, but that was far from the truth.

She hated this reunion, or more specifically, she hated how how often she thought about this day happening- the day she’d finally see her again, and this was never how it played out in her head.

“Really?” Vi scoffs a laugh, half turning to face her, “Now?”

All Caitlyn could do was nod, she didn’t dare trust the ever growing lump in her throat.

This isn’t how Vi thought it would go either, never wanting to be on the other end of Cait’s authority, well… not like this anyway. But at this point, Vi had nothing to lose, and she’d take whatever Caitlyn gave her.

Vi’s hands stung, sticky bandages clinging to open wounds as she shoved them into her jackets pockets.

“We can talk at my place. It’s just up there.”

She nodded her head in the direction further up the street, and started walking before Cait could suggest something else or resist altogether, but even in Cait’s sanest mind, she wouldn’t dare.

Caitlyn, against her better judgment and years of police training, followed Vi, but the thought of this being a set up also crossed her mind.

And almost, as if on cue, Vi looks over her shoulder, pulling a set of keys out of her back pocket.

“We’re here.”

She proceeds to lead Cait up a steep set of stairs, metal bars crumbling to rust under Cait’s hand as she approached the second story apartment, still keeping the idea of it being a set up in the back of her mind.

It was dark. Dingy. A polar opposite to what Caitlyn was used to.

Bottles littered the floor, some empty- most empty, others at varying levels of emptiness, and a small bed shoved into the corner.

As nonchalantly as Cait could, she looks around at the cramped space, and Vi did what she always did upon coming home- grabbing one of the said half empty bottles, and sat on the edge of her bed, taking heavy swigs between labored breaths.

Vi’s forearms rested on bent knees, only moving from this position to take another swig as blood continued to leak from her knuckles.

“You wanna talk so talk.”

Again, another sip, and a gash from Vi’s eyebrow that hadn’t been noticed before started to bleed, a thin trail of crimson flowing down the side of her face.

A bitter taste filled Caitlyn’s mouth, lingering resentment she thought she was well past rising to the surface.

“So this is what you’ve been up to?” Cait scoffs out, sounding somehow even more bitter than she’d ever expected, immediately wishing to take it back.

Vi either didn’t hear or she was pretending that Cait’s words weren’t like a fucking dagger to her heart, taking a final swig before setting the bottle aside.

She began unwrapping the bandages, her lip slightly twitching as the fabric peeled from open skin, and as much as she tried to keep her pain hidden from Cait, it wasn’t working.

Caitlyn kneels to the ground, and pulls out a handkerchief with some fancy emblem sewed into the corner.

“Here. You’re going to bleed more if you keep shaking like that.”

She grabs Vi by the wrist, holding her still, and started dabbing the area clean.

It was so gentle. Cautious. Almost healing upon contact.

It’s been so long since Vi had been handled with such care. The last time also being Caitlyn right before shit hit the fan.

It was against everything in Vi’s nature to let someone else care for her, but this time, she found it impossible to refuse.

“I thought you were here to arrest me, not play doctor.” Vi hisses, the plain cloth now dosed in the high proofed liquor she had just been drinking, and it definitely being on purpose on Caitlyn’s behalf.

“I’m not going to arrest you, Violet. I told you, I just had some questions.”

Vi’s eyes rolled, a huff passing her lips, “So why aren’t you asking them?”

Caitlyn thought for a moment, and moved to be seated next to Vi, using firm grip with her index and thumb on Vi’s chin to move her head to the side, and started to clean the cut to her eyebrow.

“How long have you been fighting there?”

She asked, or more so demanded, really playing into the scary cop archetype, but that clearly wasn’t the case as she cleaned away at the girls soon to be scar.

Again, Vi winced, trying to pull away from the burning sensation on her eyebrow, but Cait wouldn’t let her get far.

“Dunno. A few months, half a year… Maybe more.” Vi answers, although not very helpful, and she knew it too.

Vi knows exactly how long it had been, not necessarily the fighting, but how long it had been since she’d seen Cait, just so happened they were one and the same.

Caitlyn’s hand lingered a little longer than needed, after noticing (and hoping Vi didn’t) she pulls away.

“Who runs the operation?”

Cait looks over her shoulder after a few seconds of no reply, only to see Vi lying down on the mattress, and her eyes hidden behind her arm that was draped across her face.

Vi chuckled, a half hearted one at that. Her canines flashing briefly, “Why would I tell you that?”

She moved to her elbows, resting her weight on them, and looked to Cait who seemed to be a bit distracted.

Could be because something that has never happened to her just happened- not getting her way, or in this case, not getting her questions answered, but it wasn’t that.

She was distracted by the sudden intimacy. Both of them being so close on a bed, dim lighting just adding to the heightened senses, and she was distracted by Violet herself. Sure, it’s the worse Cait had ever seen the girl, including the time she was stabbed and bleeding out. But it was different. She looked stronger, more mature, and all the exposed skin that Caitlyn wasn’t used to seeing was no longer hidden away due to the limited coverage of her chest bindings.

And it certainly didn’t help that whenever Cait was near her, even back then, the tension was suffocating.

Vi has lost a lot before this moment, but now, it’s Caitlyn’s turn to lose.

Caitlyn joins Vi, and mimicked her position on the bed, fingers interlocked over her stomach as silence crept in.

They both stared ahead at the cracked, flaky ceiling, a silent mental game to see who would look at the other first, but Violet was especially weak in that field.

“Is this really why you came? To ask questions about the pit?”

Vi asks, sounding so small, so quiet like regardless like of what the answer was, the idea of it possibly leading to something bigger terrified the girl.

Caitlyn turned to face Vi, tucking an arm under her head.

To Vi, it felt too good to be true to be with Cait like this like that one time all those years ago when things were ever so slightly easier. On nights where she’d had gotten too drunk too fast, and too alone, she’d fall asleep to that memory, but now, it felt like a lifetime had passed since then, and neither of them resembled who they used to be.

“I was just checking it out and then I saw you fight…” Caitlyn trails off, and her eyes squeezed shut, letting more silence intrude, “I didn’t know it was you until you said something.”

Vi thinks for a moment, the pouding in her heart growing a little louder as Caitlyn turned onto her side to face the once pink haired girl.

Caitlyn speaks first, of course she did. Vi was too in her head, too anxious to engage a conversation without the promise of a stutter or slurry of pent up emotions all coming undone at once.

“I don’t care about the pit, Vi… never did.”

Caitlyn’s body tightens, arms cradling around herself as she didn’t dare look Vi in the eyes.

In a way, it was a confession, an apology. A way of saying that even though a lot of time has passed, things done that shouldn’t have been allowed, and words spoken that never should have, she still always thought of her.

“Then why are you here now and not then?”

Caitlyn fills with dread. Every ounce of that question felt like she was being faced with all her regrets because the truth is, she didn’t have an answer. It was everything and nothing all at once, an endless loop of what felt like excuses.

This is when Cait finally looks up, meeting the icy blue of Vi’s eyes that seemed a whole lot dimmer than what she remembered.

“I thought that’s what you wanted… for me to stay away. I thought it would be… easier.”

Caitlyn couldn’t have sounded more guilty, more afraid by an impeding reaction. But Vi isn’t like her.

“Do you still think it’s easier?”

Vi asked, a humor hidden behind obvious hurt that it wasn’t the explanation she wanted, but she’d happily take, reaching a hand out a little further on the mattress between them, praying Cait would take the bait.

And Caitlyn did.

First, it was hand on hand, then fingers intertwined, and breathing fastened.

It was the hardest decision she ever had to make, but the question had gone completely forgotten as hand touches turned into opened mouth kisses, and Caitlyn’s fingers wrapped up in the longer layers of Vi’s hair as she climbed on top.

Vi’s hands were on Cait’s back, running along the length of it, and in the divot of her spine- feeling, reeling the shape of her, memorizing every detail in a matter of seconds in case this was just another “easy” decision on Caitlyn’s behalf.

But there was also no way in hell Vi was going to make the same mistake twice.

“Say you mean it.” Vi mumbled between the kisses to Caitlyn’s chest, ridding her of her jacket just moments prior.

“What?”

Caitlyn’s confusion didn’t stop there as Vi hooked an arm across her back, maneuvering them both with ease so that Cait was underneath her.

There was an eagerness- a lack of regard that Caitlyn felt from this position- the familiarity of it, and what it has led to in the past like a drug that you worked so hard to rid yourself of just for it all to crumble in an instant when laid out in front of you- or in this case, on top of you.

“Say you mean this.”

Vi’s tone emphasizes, and in any other context, it could've come off as demanding or harsh, but right now, it was unmistakably desperate.

Vi’s eyes lock onto Cait’s as she lowers her head down, her tongue connecting with the hot flesh across Cait’s lower stomach.

A hum is pulled from Caitlyn’s lips- subtle but there, and Vi took it as permission, hooking her long fingers into the waistband of Caitlyn’s pants and proceeded to pull them down just enough to see how far the lace of Caitlyn’s black panties went, which to Vi’s surprise, went pretty far- all the way type far.

She thought she was going to make Caitlyn work for it. Beg for a touch, a feel, a taste… Some sort of payback was expected, but that was before the kiss, or the way Caitlyn looked at her, and definitely before Vi got a hint of her taste through the lace.

“I mean it-“ Caitlyn stutters, her head falling a little heavier against the mattress as Vi’s mouth envelops Caitlyn from down below, lace heavying with the spit-precum mixture.

Whether Caitlyn meant it or it was just another empty promise to get what she wanted didn’t matter to Vi. She needed it just as much as Caitlyn did- the orgasm, the empty promise, either would suffice when your reality is beating the shit out of people before they could beat you up first, and drinking until the term “blackout drunk” didn’t seem like it was enough.

Before Vi, or Caitlyn for that matter, could think about the consequences or the impending repeated heartbreak that would come from this, Vi slipped the few inches from the bed to the floor. Her knees clashed against the cold concrete, pulling Cait along with an arm wrapped under her thigh and her other hand busy, an index finger hooking the small patch of cotton where Caitlyn’s pussy was previously hidden behind, pulling it to the side.

“Holy shit… I’ve missed you.” Vi exhaled, unsure if the statement was directed at Caitlyn herself or the part of Cait that Vi’s face was centimeters away from.

Vi continued slow licks, bring her head up every so often to more closely observe Caitlyn’s movements- the rise of her chest, the soft mews and almost wines of contempt when Vi would stop, even if it was only for a few seconds.

She showed incredible restraint, not because of the payback that she promised herself she’d get, but because she wanted to make it last, savor it, but Caitlyn on the other hand wasn’t as sentimental.

“Stop-“ Caitlyn starts but is cut off. A slight clench in her jaw as she winces, and a stinging sensation spreading high on her inner thigh where Vi’s teeth bit down.

“stop teasing.”

Vi tongue slid across the freshly made mark, soothing it before looking up, and meeting a less than enthusiastic Cait.

She chuckles, a quick breath leaving her nostrils, “Oh? You don’t like how I do it?”

Vi’s teeth flash, and the corner of her lip upturned.

Maybe this was her payback.

“Show me how you want it then.”

Caitlyn stared for a second before moving, a split decision that showcased just how fragile her patience truly was.

She gets up, hand and knees on the mattress, and held a hand out for Vi to take, which she does.

Cait pulls her onto the bed, putting her hands on the front of Vi’s shoulders as she climbs on top to straddle her waist.

Vi in all of this was a little starstruck, going along with whatever Caitlyn wanted even if it meant imminent death, but luckily for her, that seemed like a far off possibility right now.

Caitlyn reaches behind to unclasp her bar, letting the straps fall naturally down her arms before tossing it the short amount of distance to the floor, and Vi did her best to not stare, but old habits die hard.

Instead of a witty remark on Caitlyn’s behalf about “having some dignity” or “my eyes are up here” she welcomed the attention, even encouraged Vi to go beyond just looking, but Vi didn’t need the extra incentive.

Her hands danced along the sides of Caitlyn’s torso, squeezing her smallest parts with the cuts and scraps long forgotten before they reached her breasts.

She cupped them, letting the natural curve guide her fingers, and didn’t stop until Caitlyn leans forward to kiss her.

First, it was slow, pecks overlapping into drawn out kisses before tongues intertwined into a maze with no beginning or end, and hands cradling, holding parts of each other that have been neglected of touch for far too long.

For Caitlyn, it was nice at first to have this and nothing else, but the itch was building into a painful rupture, and Vi wasn’t far behind.

Cait’s hand glided down Vis stomach, fingers curling over the ridges of her prominent abs until they’re forced to a stop by the heavy hardware of Vi’s pants.

“Can I?” She whispered against Vi’s lips, heavy breathing filling the momentary silence before an answer could be spoke, but it wouldn’t take long.

With permission granted, Caitlyn lowers herself to mirror Vi position from just a few minutes before, undoing the buckle, and with the help of Vi, she pulls the ripped, dark denim from her legs.

As soon at the warmth of Cait’s mouth became the only thing Vi could feel, a tear was almost shed- gratitude or the longing for things to stay like this forever had become overwhelming even for a girl like Vi.

Vi’s hands reached, fingers intertwining with the dark blue hair that flowed loosely around Caitlyn’s face, a total opposite to the tight updo Cait had worn not even 20 minutes ago, now having a slight wave to its usual unbending pattern.

“Fuck, Cait-“ Vi groaned, swallowing it down as she bit her lip. “-I’m gonna cum.”

Already? But Caitlyn just started?

Maybe her first impression of Vi after the time apart had failed her. Surely, she had different girls in and out of this room, sometimes more than one in a single day, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Cait eased up, applying less pressure, and only allowing the lightest of touches to Vi’s clit before stopping all together to tempt a finger inside.

“Oh fuck-“

Vi tried sitting up to look at Caitlyn, a plummet in strength as Caitlyn’s knuckle disappears inside, and shortly after, another finger was added.

Cait continued like this- in and out, slow, agonizingly slow at first, pulling all the way out, before stuffing her full, over and over again she did this until she picked up speed.

The light pressure of Caitlyn’s lips on Vi’s inner thighs proved to be little distraction to the pressure building deep inside Vi’s stomach, but seemed to be more effective when Cait’s lips reconnected to her clit.

Vi heaved, the bindings around her chest tightening even more as her chest rose deeply, and her whines softening into a delicate cry, which was a rare occasion for her.

But she was sensitive, starved, also didn’t help Cait happened to be quite the perfectionist, even in sex.

VI’s hands threw down, pressing on the back of Caitlyn’s head, and held her there with her hips rolling with the motion of Cait’s tongue, and without a minute to waste, Caitlyn’s mouth filled with her, over pouring until it was dripping down to the peak of her chin.

Despite the hard-hitting orgasm Vi just endured, it didn’t take long before she pulls Cait onto the bed, and with Cait’s mouth still glistening with Vi’s climax, she kisses her, tongue lodging itself deep into the back of Cait’s throat. As she’s doing this, she’s molding Caitlyn, putting her into position before she could process.

Vi’s hand is on the back of Caitlyn’s neck, kissing her deeper and deeper before she stops, a thin trail of spit breaking as Vi pulls away.

“Vi…” Caitlyn breaths, eyes glossy, and on the brink of tears as Vi’s hand trails along her spine, applying pressure.

“Do you trust me?” She whispered, maintaining eye contact as her lips grazed Caitlyn’s shoulder.

Caitlyn’s bottom lip is taken hostage for a brief moment between her teeth before releasing, giving a slight nod, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

Vi is brought to her knees, positioning herself behind Cait, and her hand on Caitlyn’s back lowering her down.

With cheeks squished against the mattress below and unable to see Vi directly, Caitlyn could do nothing but anticipate what’s to come, and because she couldn’t see Vi, the touches to her ass and inner thighs only felt amplified.

Now, this is where Vi hand all the power, all the time in the world to see Caitlyn how she’d often think about her in her dreams, specifically on nights where her hand couldn’t come close to ever being enough.

Her hand is dragged along Cait’s back, fallowing it all the way down to the space between Cait’s thighs, and cradled her cunt in the palm of her hand, letting the moisture soak through her skin.

With this little amount of pressure, Caitlyn pushes her hips back into Vi’s touch, the arch in her back deepening, and her cunt clenching at what’s to come.

Seeing how eager Caitlyn was for her touch, Vi had to feel it for herself, so she hooked the thin stitches of the laces with her fingers and pulled, and with a harsh, quick yank, it broke away from Cait’s hips.

Another whine is emitted as Caitlyn attempted to look back at Vi, who was lowering herself to be eye level with Cait’s lower set of lips, pulling her ass apart to more clearly see how much of a mess she was, even when she tried so hard to seem composed.

She licked, and licked, and licked. There wasn’t an inch of Caitlyn that hadn’t been touched by Vi’s tongue. They had no off-limits, and the term “gross” wasn’t even in their vocabulary. They had nothing to be embarrassed about when it was just them two, and Caitlyn is learning now that even after years apart, it’s still the same.

Even the lockjaw that was threatening Vi’s mouth didn’t stop her- her thumbs centered between Caitlyn’s thighs, physically holding her lips apart as she flexed inside her, pushing the hot muscle as deep as it could possibly go, Caitlyn’s muffled whines sounding a whole lot less muffled even with her face buried in the sheets.

That’s when Caitlyn found some strength- a mere ounce of it, and she used this strength to reach a hand behind in search of the only hand she wanted to hold.

She squeezed until her nails left indents on the back of Vi’s hand, and Vi knew she was close.

Vi narrowed in, working through the sore jaw and neck, squeezing the plush of Cait’s thighs until the skin around her pads turned white.

Caitlyn cursed as she came, and in the same breath, she also spoke Vi’s name so sweetly that it made up for the obscenities.

Vi could’ve stopped there, but what then?

Caitlyn would spend the night?

Move in?

One of those is more plausible than the other, but Vi didn’t like her chances.

As Caitlyn laid there, stomach flat to the bed, and her head resting on forearms, and seemingly trying to catch a breath, Vi crawled on top of her, bandagings coming loose as she lowers herself onto Cait, and kissed her across her shoulders.

It was sweet- possibly the most innocent form of physical touch, but that’s when Vi’s creeping hand continued to lowers itself until her wrist was snug between Caitlin’s ass.

VI’s head lowers, her bottom lip grazing Cait’s ear, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Her breath is heavy, not from exhaustion or something similar. She was insatiable, greedy, and the guilt was loud for what she was about to do, but her hunger was louder.

“Okay..” Caitlyn responded, her eyes widening a bit as Vi’s hand grabbed the underside of her jaw to turn her face to feed Vi’s greedy lips once more, sinking two fingers inside.

A gasp disconnects them briefly as the full length of Vi’s fingers disappears inside but is quickly taken ahold of by Vi's greed once again, whose motion of her wrist was quickly growing in pace.

One orgasm had passed, then two…

Caitlyn cried out, all her strength exhausted as she squeezed at the forearm that was seat-belted across her chest, and Vi’s less busy hand ever so gently fitted around Cait’s neck, lightly applying pressure with her fingers to the sides.

It was so sweet- a little rough and almost sadistic if you noticed the details- the tear-stained sheets, the handling of Caitlyn’s lower half, but, overall, sweet and undeniably passionate.

As Caitlyn cried out- louder, and her voice on the brink of a scream, Vi face muzzles into the side of Cait’s cheek, and places a kiss to the tear-stain by her eye, catching the saltwater with her lips, “I wanted to marry you, did you know that?”

“You left, and I wanted to marry you. I still do.”

Again, Caitlyn was left unable to reply. She couldn’t form a sentence, nonetheless have a conversation of this degree.

So, instead, she says her name, a meek “vi” leaving her lips as she looks over her shoulder to look into her eyes.

“Please.”

Like clockwork, Vi did what she was asked, and kept a steady, consistent rhythm.

Sweat-drenched hair stuck to Caitlyn’s forehead, and her nails curling into Vi’s skin as her screams continued for a few more seconds, each time getting cut short as Vi’s fingers collided with her cervix until the fluid seeped out around Vi’s hand.

She retreats, and pulls out carefully to minimize Cait’s discomfort before lying on her back next to her, heavy breathing shared between the pair.

Vi didn’t speak. She couldn’t. This was her one opportunity to get her back- fix things to be how they were supposed to, and she fucked it all up by letting her emotions get out of hand.

It wasn’t even Vi’s problem to fix, Caitlyn left, not her, but it was in Vi’s nature to try.

Vi rolls into her side, hovering a hand over Caitlyn’s shoulder, hesitation upon not seeing her face.

“Cait?”

Her hand finally connected, a pit in her stomach starting to form, but quickly melted away as Caitlyn looks at her.

Vi knew that look, and she knew Caitlyn enough to know that not all is lost.

Caitlyn couldn’t promise it today, tomorrow, or even a year from now.

But until that day comes, no more year long absences and no more drowning in the ‘what could’ve beens’ of the past, but someday, when things are less fucked up, and they’re able to give each other the versions of themselves they used to be, there will always be a home waiting for them.

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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, arranged marriage, extramarital affairs, explicit smut (sukunaeste AND sukunayn 🫣), mentions of drugs, mentions of affairs, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conception, mentions of food, family tension, toxic family dynamics

masterlist | playlist

The day is bright, unseasonably warm for a wedding.

As the last guest trickles in and the church doors close, the organ strikes up and down the aisle walks a bride in a silky, form-fitting wedding dress, thick veil covering her exquisitely made up face. Her father looks striking next to her, tall and handsome in his charcoal gray suit. He kisses her hand and passes it to the man at the front of the altar, his smile betraying no hint of regret as he clasps her offered hand tightly.

The groom doesn’t stutter or mess up his vows. He’s clear-eyed and level-headed, handsome with just a hint of devilishness when he sweeps her into his arms, kissing her right in front of the entire congregation, cementing his willingness to love her for the rest of his life in front of God and her family.

What the heavens have joined, no man can destroy.

Those were the words echoing throughout the halls as they left the luxurious chapel, rows of Rolls Royces wrapped with ribbons and daisies waiting to take them back to the city—the bride’s favorite flowers specking the bright scene with dots of yellow and white, a touching new day for two families who were finally one.

Inside the car, away from the cameras and guests, you drop Sukuna’s hand the second he releases yours, and shift to the other end of the interior. He lets the space fester between the two of you, not bothering to even speak to you or ask how you were feeling now that his wedding band was wrapped around your finger.

Your mother told you she heard from Mrs. Gojo that Sukuna himself picked the band and stone, sparing no detail to his help.

In fact, she gleefully announces, he chose the venue, the music, the color scheme and cars that would bring you both back to Tokyo as a newlywed couple.

You’re dumbfounded.

It doesn't make any sense.

One glance at him now would disparage those rumors. Sukuna barely looks at you, preoccupied with the passing scene outside the car window. His side profile cuts a sharp outline amidst the fading scenery, and he turns to catch your stare, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

You flush and look away, clutching the stem of your bouquet tighter in your fists. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t comment on your lack of conversation, deciding to drop this matter.

All that’s left on today’s itinerary is the reception dinner and you’d both be free of this depressing charade. Smiling too much made your cheeks hurt, and you physically couldn’t feel your feet; the tight heels Okura-san bought nearly cut off your toes’ circulation.

Sukuna catches you wincing and he scoffs. “What now? You were fidgeting throughout the whole wedding ceremony.”

He doesn’t bother to speak nicely to you once your names are signed on the same page, resorting to his standard fare of rudeness and disappointment.

“My shoes hurt,” you complain. He rolls his eyes.

“Why did you have to wear them?”

Because it’s the style you like, you want to bite back. One of his ex-girlfriends from five years ago had a picture on Getty Images wearing this exact cut and color when she was rumored to be with him.

“They’re pretty,” you argue.

He gives you a look. “No, they’re not. I don’t like them. They squish your toes too much.” Sukuna sighs, as if the idea of berating you is too taxing for him to handle.

“Next time, have some more common sense. You’re an Itadori now. Your image is mine and you have to keep it spotless. Whatever you do, wherever you go, my name will always be attached to yours.” He gives you a side glance, and you feel his vitriol and cutting annoyance. “If you wear those shoes and stumble around, you’re just begging for the wrong kind of attention.”

Mental note made. You glance back at the shoes, wanting nothing more than to burn them. I’ll have to tell Okura-san to phase this style out of my wardrobe.

The day continues with a celebration of your nuptials at a high end Michelin restaurant in Tokyo Tower, the reservation made under his name and intended for selected family and friends only.

You see Este in the crowd, months after your last encounter with her at the Hokkaido lodge, and feel a nauseating sense of unease when she beams at Sukuna, readying herself at the front of the stage where you’re supposed to toss the bouquet to your unmarried friends.

She’s changed into a cream gown, almost the same color as your own bridal dress from her previous red number in the church—probably when you were all too busy getting the ceremony underway. Many people stop to stare at her, though shameless as she is, she doesn’t pay them any mind, tossing her shiny brown hair back and giggling with her gaggle of prissy friends also mutually connected to the Itadoris.

Pitiful stares slide towards you, and Iori even threatens under her breath to spill red wine all over the front of her frock in passing for daring to humiliate you like this; her arms locked tight around you in mid-embrace when you come over to her table and greet her. She’s splendid and iridescent in an airy pale green dress and her hair up in a pristine bow, though the look of vitriol on her face could kill a man.

We can’t do that, you regretfully inform her, squeezing her forearms, feeling helpless at her righteous anger. The Naras are priceless to the Itadoris—angering them would affect Jin and Sukuna’s relationship with James.

Ever since you came back from Hokkaido, you hadn’t found the time to update her on what you had overheard from Sukuna and Este, too consumed by wedding prep and your inner conflict at whether you should proceed with the whole farce now that both your families were starting to put the pressure on you and Sukuna.

Iori, kind-hearted as she was to a fault, gave you your space, one call away whenever you needed emotional support. You hated keeping her in the dark for so long, but there were just some things you could not speak about without going deeper into this impending tragedy of a loveless marriage.

As the new wife of their family, there were things you had to learn—and fast.

The first being you would always be last in the grand scheme of things in the Itadori clan.

First was their brotherly bond, then their business, and then their shared raising of Yuuji who’s the heir apparent to the entire company.

Any children you beget for Sukuna would be second in line, a spare in case anything happens to Yuuji in the future.

Between the struggle or slaughterhouse, you chose to duck your head quietly and let yourself be led down this road where your happiness came second to everyone else’s. You had a duty to fulfill—to protect and upkeep the L/N name; nothing else can matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now perform the highly waited for bouquet toss! The announcer guides you to the stage where your carefully crafted bouquet of daisies and peonies sourced from one of the best florists in Shinjuku was pressed into your hands. Your family beams across the room, your mother grasping Sukuna’s bicep as she excitedly chatters into his ear.

The wedding is over, the five course meals are done and now, the games will begin.

Let’s see who the lucky lady is today, he trills, and you turn back from the crowd, steadying your aim towards Iori, who bounces on the balls of her feet, excitedly shooting you a grin.

If there was anyone who deserved better luck than you in your love life, it’s your best friend of twelve years.

“Three, two, one—and toss!”

You throw the bouquet back and catch the peel of high-pitched squeals, some scrambling. Then, the crowd starts to clap and cheer.

You turn around, expecting Iori to be the one triumphant in holding your bouquet in her hands, but find that it’s Este who brandishes the flower arrangement in the air instead like a conqueror holding her enemy’s beheaded head.

Some peony petals scatter to the ground, looking like crimson bloodstains as Este’s mother pinches her cheeks, happy at her daughter’s good luck on such an auspicious day.

For a split second, the entire room forgets about you—the woman in white, standing all alone with a spotlight on her, arms uselessly dangling by her side; a smile frozen on her face like a mannequin left out in a snowstorm for days.

You feel someone staring at you from the dais on the other end of the room, and lift your eyes, your gaze colliding with a pair of vermillion hues.

Sukuna holds eye contact with you for a moment longer than you hope, and in those eyes, an evasive yet curious emotion stirs, stunning you for a second more than you could ever dream.

Then, he drops his eyes and the connection blanks, your world going back to white and black again.

“Cancel the honeymoon,” Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t leave like this.”

Jin sits solemnly in front of him, lips in a thin line and circles dark underneath his eyes.

The latest investor meeting was a clusterfuck. None of the numbers were making sense and revenue across the Middle East had been disrupted because of a supply chain leakage.

Things weren’t looking too bright for Itadori Corp—all this while Sukuna was getting a hang of the ropes and trying his best to catch up with a decade’s worth of data, numbers, and Jin’s expectations.

“Are you sure?” The younger twin sinks back in his seat, turning his sleep-deprived eyes to the ceiling. Ever since the third quarter report came out, Jin’s been spending more nights in the office than he cared to admit, relegating Yuuji to the care of his nannies and nurses. “Won’t your wife be mad?”

Sukuna couldn’t care less what you would feel about this decision. This is his profit at risk.

He snorts. “No. She’s too busy shopping all day long and painting. Y/N won’t notice if we never went for our honeymoon.”

There’s something deeper behind his scorn, and Jin wants to ask, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the office door.

His personal assistant walks in, the man’s flush face and aggravated expression sending off flickers of anxiety crawling all over his skin. Jin’s office with its floor-to-ceiling windows, curated artwork and priceless mahogany desk seems to shrink in the periphery from the magnitude of the news he receives next.

“Itadori-san, my apologies for interrupting.” Ijichi bows deeply, his glasses almost falling off his face. “But, the stakeholders have requested an emergency meeting tonight.”

“Shit,” Jin curses.

It’s horrendous timing. Tonight’s the night you’ll be officially welcomed into the Itadori household.

Reading his mind, Sukuna shakes his head. “We have an important family event tonight. Push it to tomorrow morning.”

Over the decade he’s served Itadori Corp and Jin loyally, Ijichi wasn’t sure if he could take Sukuna’s order. But, Jin eases his uncertainties with a nod and a sigh.

“My brother is right. Just let them know we’ll meet on this tomorrow. It will give Sukuna and I some time to go over the report and speak to our analysts.”

Not one to waste any time, their subordinate bows again, leaving the room to make the necessary calls.

“Can you get me a meeting with James Nara?” Jin stands, buttoning the front of his blazer and adjusting his glasses. “We might need to expedite things on the manufacturer's end.”

Sukuna stands as well, smoothing the front of his dress pants. “Of course.”

“He’s in his apartment down in Shibuya. Get Este on the line, too. Something tells me we’re going to need their connections to Dubai to get us out of this mess.”

His older brother hesitates. Jin furrows his brow, turning back to look at him. “Is something wrong?”

The confession hovers on the tip of his tongue—I can’t see Este or else I’ll be tempted to do something horrible. Sukuna hasn’t seen her since the wedding when she caught the bouquet you obviously meant for that Utahime girl; knowing they would have to reduce their encounters if they didn’t want word of their affair to spread across the city. Besides late night texts on his burner phone and a few nudes exchanged here and there, Sukuna hasn’t felt her under him in days.

And the need is ever growing.

“Nothing,” he lies smoothly. “I’ll catch up with James in the afternoon.”

Sukuna walks back to his office opposite Jin's, a space curated just for him. He surveys the tournament trophies hanging on the wall, the boxing memorabilia. Unlike his brother’s office, it’s clinical and colder. While Jin proudly has photos of himself, Kaori and Yuuji hanging on the walls to mark his unending devotion for his family, Sukuna’s content to focus more on his achievements and goals rather than sappy, cliche mementos.

Even the wedding portrait sent back by the studio remains in the storage, hidden from his view and attention. A nagging voice deep inside tells him to speak to you about it—to give you a choice to hang it up or burn it. But, he doesn’t bother to revisit that task, hyperfocus on closing this deal before the next quarter arrives.

It’s part of his charade to show Jin he’s worthy of that 110% profit when it inevitably gets cashed into his account.

“Sir?”

Ijichi stands at the door, daring to interrupt his thoughts; the vermin bows to him and straightens.

Sukuna’s starting to feel like this guy would never give him a break. His mouth curls into a sneer, words piercing and cold.

“Well? What is it?”

“Sir, Miss Este Nara has made an appointment for you to visit downtown Shibuya on Jin’s request. Your 4.30PM meeting is set.”

Saying nothing else, the meek man bows again and retreats, leaving Sukuna to his spiraling thoughts.

Three days without her body and the drugs were pushing it. But, it’s been almost a week since he’s had a hit and he feels the gnawing ache overtaking his every thought. If it weren’t for the little bags of coke she had brought to him before the wedding which he does every night in his own private bathroom before returning to the penthouse you both shared, Sukuna might have murdered someone by now.

To prepare himself for her, he staggers into his bathroom, procuring the small pouch hidden behind rows of mouthwash and setting it up on the black marble counter. Sukuna lines it up, bends his head forward and inhales the sweet, sweet powder that sends a shock up his spine, his eyes narrowing into pinpricks and mind floating away in a blissful sea of nothing.

He leans against the counter, head languidly rolling back, eyes half closed.

His watch beeps with the meeting reminder Ijichi uploaded into his shared data, and he walks out of there with a swing in his step, shoulders loose and a confident grin in place.

The Naras weren’t as ostentatious as the L/Ns thought their uptown apartment in Shibuya begs to challenge that notion.

Concierge immediately recognizes his Superleggera, ushering him up the gilded smart elevators; purified oxygenated air circulating around the ample space, ruffling the tips of his pink hair.

He arrives at the front door, ready to make a deal with the Nara patriarch himself when the door opens and he finds Este on the other end, her red lips in a smirk.

“Wh—where’s your father?” Sukuna holds his cool while keeping his confusion under wraps.

It’s fine. If the old man wasn’t here, he could come back another day… after he sorted out his hit, of course.

Her coy smile reflects his thoughts, and she doesn’t stop to think of the consequences, pulling him into the apartment by his tie.

Sukuna falls into the gravity of her seduction, lips pressed onto hers, moaning and licking along the seam of her mouth. She tastes like Dior’s cherry lip gloss and a bad mistake, weighing him down with the burden of her arms around him.

Este drags him to the couch, panting when he pushes her skirt aside, finding her completely naked underneath.

“You planned this?” He growls, eyeing her flushed nub that twitches under his glare.

“I knew you were coming back for me.” Her eyes roll back into her head and she bites on her lip, tangling her fingers in his hair as he ducks his head down in between her legs.

Sukuna eats her out right on her parent’s couch, the bulge in his pants hard to ignore. He snaps his pants’ button open with one hand, dragging the zipper down and pulls out his cock, giving it a few good pumps as his tongue traces his name onto her clit.

Este’s breathing like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, the whites of her eyes glimmering in the low light. Sukuna feels her spurt into his mouth and he drinks her down, never taking those sultry red eyes off of her.

Limp and satisfied from her orgasm, she gives him a lazy smirk and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Sukuna’s tongue twines with hers in a kiss which makes his cock throb, and he aches to be in her—it’s been too long since he’s felt her pussy clinging onto him.

Este’s slim legs wrap around his waist, and her cries are muffled by his large palm slapping across her mouth.

Shut up, Sukuna snarls. Shut up and take it.

He fucks her fast and dirty, the thrill of his raw cock inside of her enough to make his balls twitch and the band around his belly tighten.

Come in me, her lusty cry spills from between his finger cracks. I need to feel you, Ryomen.

His name tumbling from her swollen lips is enough for him to spill inside her, filling her with warmth. Este brushes the sweaty strands of hair from his face, tracing her lips over the tribal tattoos on his jaw.

“Where the fuck is my reward, woman?” He grumbles and she giggles, reaching behind the sofa to rummage for the secret packet. Sukuna swats the globes of her ass on display just for him, admiring the thick white glob of his cum oozing out of her puffy cunt.

She settles into his lap with the white ziplock bag, daring him to sniff it off her pelvis bone.

Sukuna arranges her back on the couch, carefully stacking a line of white on her pale, silky smooth skin and inhaling it in one go.

The drugs take effect immediately and he’s seeing stars everywhere; on the ceiling, outside the windows, twinkling from inside her pussy.

If this is what love feels like, Sukuna thinks he’s a master of it.

“Feels good?” Her voice wavers in and out of his shaky consciousness. Sukuna nods, resting his head on her thigh, eyes closed and enjoying the feel of her nails raking through his scalp.

Fuck, if this is what love feels like, he doesn’t mind upping his dosage for a stronger hit.

The ticking kitchen clock becomes the subject of your nervous glances.

It’s half past six and Sukuna still isn’t home yet. Dinner with Jin starts at seven.

You bite your nails, knee bouncing up and down as you contemplate driving straight to the younger Itadori’s apartment without your husband.

It won’t be a good look. Jin would obviously question Sukuna’s whereabouts, and you didn’t want to paint yourself as a bad wife for not knowing where your husband was.

It’s not my fault he doesn’t tell me anything! You seethe in frustration. That damn asshat wouldn’t give me his daily schedule—even when I asked him twice!

You groan and tilt your head back, flopping onto the sofa. The satin dress you bought from Dior clings to your figure, and you fiddle with the biker’s jacket you got on a whim, crinkling your nose at how stuffy and humid it was because of the thick material. This isn’t helping my nerves.

You sigh and push back your hair, wondering if you should leave Sukuna yet another voicemail. You’ve already left about four since the clock chimed six, and you’re honestly considering calling up his office line to remind him of this special occasion.

Just as you make the decision to flag the chauffeur from his patient post in the suite’s parking spot to take you to Jin’s apartment on your own, the doorknob jangles and turns.

Sukuna steps in, cheeks ruddy and hair askew, looking like someone had taken a huge windblower to his face.

“Well?” He snaps, like he’s the one who spent half the day trying to get a hold of you; nervously waiting for your arrival back home. “Do I have to fucking roll out a red carpet for you? Let’s go.”

He doesn’t raise his voice at you, but he might as well have judging from the annoyance simmering in his vermillion gaze.

Sukuna slams the door shut and you scramble to your feet, grabbing your purse and the remains of your patience. He waits for you in the elevator, and you huff quietly, stepping past the doors and standing beside him with your eyes latching onto the ground, simmering in annoyance.

“Stop pouting. Your face is annoying me.”

Darting your eyes to his, your lips tighten into a grimace. It takes some effort to school your features into a pleasant smile, but you do it for the sake of keeping the peace this evening.

“I apologize, Itadori-san.”

Rather than reducing his severity on someone who doesn’t deserve the least bit of his hostility, Sukuna’s nostrils flare and he groans, shaking his head. Underneath the harsh fluorescent light of this private elevator, you can see his skin stretching taut across his face, the dark circles like bruises smudged under his eyes.

Without taking a second to think, you step closer to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

Sukuna flinches as if you’ve struck him, his jaw tightening and body tensing. You falter and retreat back to your corner of the elevator, the skin on the back of your hand prickling. He, too, feels a tingling sensation on his forehead where your touch made contact with his skin, and despite the lack of malicious intent, he doesn’t let his walls of hostility fall for a single second.

“What are you doing?” He seethes, narrowing his eyes.

Curling your shoulders forward defensively, you gesture to his appearance. “You look exhausted. Sick, even. I was just trying to see if you’re feeling well. You know—like a good wife is supposed to do.”

The word ‘wife’ tears through him like a bed of nails. This time, Sukuna actually flinches.

You look like the picture of innocence in front of him, staring up at him with those wide doe eyes as if you don’t know that you’ve crossed a line. His high-maintenance, image-obsessed wife who thinks she has him all figured out. Sukuna finds you sickening, a pain in his ass.

As if to retaliate back against your unwanted touch, he scoffs.

“You can drop the act, Princess. Spare it for someone who actually cares. Like Jin. We don’t have to pretend when it’s just the two of us.”

Unbeknownst to him, your expression breaks into one of hurt behind his back when he turns around, ignoring you like you’re the dirt underneath his expensive designer shoes.

You can’t find the words to fight back or retort, tightening your hands around your embellished purse as you trail behind him quietly like his shadow.

The car ride to Jin’s mansion is hell on earth, if you can call the hot depths your husband’s cold stare never leaving the window, or his tense jaw keeping its edge long after you both left the penthouse.

You never thought such a simple gesture would incite this much resistance from one man. All you had done was try to see if he had a fever, and Sukuna was acting as if you had insulted his entire bloodline in front of his business associates. As much as you want to shirk the pain off and ignore it, it slices you everywhere, leaving no inch of your heart unscathed.

The car idles to a stop in front of a simple, double-storey mansion, one of Jin’s properties near Shibuya that he prefers to reside in over his penthouse in Akasaka.

And, you can see why. Homey with plants dotting the balconies and blinds at every floor-to-ceiling window, it’s a perfect blend of luxury and comfort for a single father raising a rambunctious young boy.

The driver steps out and opens your door. You get out and Sukuna follows behind, making a sound of consternation under his breath. He takes a step forward, and you can’t tell if it’s the lack of light, or if his gait is wobbly.

Like he’s drunk, you think silently to yourself. But, after witnessing his venomous side firsthand, you keep a hold on your tongue. After all, this is the first night you’ll be meeting Jin and getting introduced to his young son. You don’t want to mess it up.

The tiny gift you spent a whole day making for Yuuji weighs heavily in your purse. Before you could follow behind him into the home, Sukuna whirls around, and in a low tone, he warns, “Don’t do anything stupid tonight to embarrass me. My nephew doesn’t take kindly to strangers so stay in line, princess.”

His words, harsh and cruel, slice through you again, reminding you of your position as his lawfully-wedded wife. Always beneath him, always available for scrutiny and scorn.

Before you can murmur your agreement or nod docilely, he turns back around and opens the door. You take a deep breath the second you step through the threshold, heart hammering in between your ribs at what you can expect from the other side.

Warm, orange light drips from the chandelier above. A cozy L-shape couch with a crackling fireplace immediately puts your worries at ease, and the tinkling of a water fountain by the large, living room windows, soothes the ire your husband’s previous words incited almost instantly.

Jin hears the door opening and he steps past the pillar separating the open concept kitchen from the living room with a smile on his face.

“Sukuna. Y/N. Welcome, welcome. Take a seat. I’m just warming up the dishes the chef left for us.”

You bow to him slightly and he returns your gesture with a friendly wink. “It’s good to see you again, Jin-san.”

“Likewise, Y/N. And please,” he flashes you a bright smile. “Call me Jin. We’re in-laws now so you don’t have to be so formal with me.”

His openness, so different from his older twin’s antagonism, heals a part of your heart that’s still tender from Sukuna’s afflictions. You nod and gesture to the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything, Jin?”

It’s strange to see a man work a kitchen, much less a man like Itadori Jin who’s brilliant mind and business acumen was said to rival Bill Gates’ during his prime years. He’s the picture of ease, standing there with a gray apron wrapped around his neck and waist, effortlessly heating up some sauces in pots and checking on the oven settings.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Y/N. Sit, sit. There’s refreshments in the fridge. Don’t be shy to help yourself.”

You set your bag down on the counter and nod, ambling over to the large, smart fridge, opening it idly.

Apparently at ease now that he’s comfortable in his twin brother’s house, Sukuna sinks onto the couch with a low groan. “D’you happen to have a beer or something?”

His brother, already back in the kitchen, overhears his gripes.

“Yeah, I do. Go get it yourself. And get one for your wife, too, prick.”

Uncaring for the warning in Jin’s tone, Sukuna flickers his crimson eyes to you standing there like a statue by the fridge. “She’s right there. She can take a drink for me, can’t she? It’s not like her legs aren’t working.”

You see a darker emotion flash on Jin’s face, almost like anger, and decide to intervene before the two brothers could fight over something as trivial as manners and who should bring who a drink.

“It’s alright. I’ll get a beer for him,” you quickly butt in, and grab a cold can of Asahi for Sukuna and a sparkling water for yourself. You pad over to your husband, ignoring Jin’s flickering gaze passing over your expression and school your features into one of neutrality when you pass the beer to him.

Sukuna takes it without ‘thanks’, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and groaning. You take the love seat on his other side, uncapping your drink and politely sipping on the bubbling liquid.

“Oi.” His terse tone catches your attention and you startle. Sukuna frowns, and flickers his gaze to the spot next to him. In a low voice so that Jin can’t overhear, he murmurs, “You want him to think we’re a celibate couple or something? Sit next to me. Don’t make it so obvious.”

Despite the fact that yes—you two were for all intents and purposes a couple who had not even consummated the marriage yet—you heed his words, knowing that what happens behind closed doors is not allowed to see the light of day.

Mutely, you shift to sit by his side, quietly absorbing the house’s minimalist yet expensive decor.

You want to ask Jin what’s his inspiration for the color palette when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind you, and turn to find an elderly woman in a starchy black dress and hair in an uptight bun walking hand-in-hand with a tiny boy who barely looks to be past four years old.

Oh. Your breath rushes out of your chest as you take in his fluffy pink hair, the orange dungarees which clash horribly with the blush-tone hue of his locks. This must be—

“Come on, Yuuji. Come and meet your new aunty.”

Jin removes his apron and nods to the maid, guiding Yuuji over to you and Sukuna. His smile becomes both paternal and soft as he places one large palm on his son’s head, urging him forward to meet the newest addition to their family.

Disregarding Sukuna’s warning to not step out of line in front of his family, you walk up to his nephew and slide down to one knee, so you’re both looking right into each other’s eyes. Yuuji isn’t shy like you expected, gazing at you with open curiosity, those brown eyes comically wide.

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet him warmly. The small boy doesn’t say a word.

Behind you, you feel Sukuna’s looming presence, and not wanting to prove him right, you stand and pluck your tote bag from the counter, rummaging inside and pulling out a crocheted blue bunny. Yuuji’s eyes go even bigger at the sight of the toy, his pouty, pink seashell lips dropping open, eyes never leaving the gift in your hand.

“Your father told me you like toys so I made this for you.” You slide back onto one knee and hand him the stuffed toy, waiting for him to take it.

Everything is quiet for a brief moment and a part of you thinks he might reject you, as children do when for no logical reason. But then, Yuuji turns to look at Jin, as if asking for permission and his father nods, grinning widely.

“Go ahead, Yuu-Yuu. Aunty Y/N made that just for you.”

Two chubby hands reach for the toy, taking it from your grasp as he squeezes it right to his plump cheek. Yuuji’s nose crinkles and he starts to rub his face on the scratchy material, the furrow on his tiny forehead smoothing out and a giggle blessing your ears.

“I think he likes it,” Jin laughs, and you can’t help but chortle, too.

“I think he does.” You turn towards Sukuna, who’s looking at the boy holding the toy with an amused smirk.

“Well. First one for the books. You have it easy—wait till he starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Straightening, you extend your hand out to Yuuji who stares at it like your fingers are a foreign object hovering right in front of him. Slowly, he feels the trust seeping from you, knowing you wouldn’t mean any harm, and spreads his tiny fingers towards you—stopping when he suddenly remembers something.

One more glance at his papa, who nods graciously, a bright smile on his face at the sight of his adorable son warming up to his aunt. “You can trust her, Yuu-Yuu.”

Relaxing at his father’s words, the smallest Itadori stretches out his free hand, grasping your pinkie. The warmth of his entire palm engulfing your smallest finger sets off a sense of maternal protection and sweetness surging through your veins, and you can’t help but think that if someone were to threaten Yuuji with a gun, you would put yourself right in front of the barrel to protect him.

“Would you like to have dinner now, Yuuji?” You ask him warmly, and the toddler gurgles as if he completely understands what you’re saying, tugging you along.

You swivel back to Sukuna who’s watching the entire episode unfurl with a look of pleasant surprise on his face, unaccustomed to having someone hit it off with his crybaby of a nephew.

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you give him a triumphant smirk, and he relents, shaking his head with a low laugh. You got me there, that chuckle seems to say, and he keeps his eyes peeled on Yuuji who leads you right down the hall with mincing steps—strides which you match effortlessly.

Where other nannies and butlers would try to order Yuuji around, you bend right to his whims, meeting him at his level. You listen to him babble in his baby language without any hesitation or judgment; you coo and gasp at the right time, as if he had told you something scandalous. Whenever you had to speak to him, you tried your best to get onto one knee to be eye-to-eye with the two year old.

It’s safe to say by the end of the evening, you’ve won at least one Itadori man’s heart.

Yuuji insisted you sit next to him on his high chair with his thumb in his mouth, shaking his head furiously when Jin tries to take the seat on his right hand side.

“Okay, little man. It’s not like I’m your father, or anything.” Jin complains, much to your amusement.

You try and fail to hide a giggle at Yuuji furrowing his tiny brows and puckering his mouth into a pout when Sukuna attempts to take the chair next to the young boy. Those sweet brown eyes search for you, and he whines, unsticking his thumb from his mouth to make grabby motions at you.

“Me?” You point to your chest, pretending to look back as if you expected him to choose someone else.

Yuuji whines louder, and you giggle, shaking your head at his antics. “You want me to sit next to you, Yuu-Yuu?”

As you speak, you circle the table and hover at the chair next to him. Yuuji doesn't say a word or even mumble a protest—watching you with wide, doe eyes.

Taking it as a ‘yes’, you shoot both Jin and Sukuna an apologetic look, settling yourself on Yuuji’s right; the toddler smacking his lips in satisfaction. He’s managed to trickle drool all over the crocheted bunny, holding it fast to his chest as a maid helps cut his potatoes into smaller bites, quartering the Shine Muscat grapes so he could easily grab it and stuff it into his mouth.

Jin takes the seat opposite of you, hovering close enough in case you need help with his son.

But, he was surprised to see that you were perfectly capable of handling Yuuji all on your own.

The spread of food arranged by both Jin and his maid is luxurious and homey, filled with stewed meats, stir-fried veggies and at the center of the table sits a hearty salmon dish lightly boiled in dashi broth, its flavor clean and nourishing at the same time.

You eat while Jin and Sukuna catch up over business and other formalities, your attention solely on Yuuji and his antics. You giggle when he offers you a grape and nod, extending your palm for him to drop the plump fruit into your hand.

“So, how’s Project Dubai going?” Sukuna inquires, and Jin tears his eyes away from the intriguing young woman who’s getting on well with his son to entertain his brother.

You’re nibbling on a grape when you overhear this intriguing topic; Project Dubai being the codename for Shinjuku Alliance, your father’s company, patenting technology from the Middle East under Itadori Corp’s supply channels.

This was the one project which brought you into their lives—the reason why Sukuna’s ring was on your finger in the first place.

Jin senses your mounting curiosity, and as much as you’re a key person in this deal, he doesn’t need anymore stakes in such a top secret project that was sure to boost Japan’s economy as a whole. He frowns, and gives Sukuna a pointed look.

“Do you think we should be speaking of business at this table now?”

He meant it as a joke, but you, knowing the entire context and having overheard it, tries to reassure him in your usual selfless way.

“It’s alright, Jin-san. You and Itadori-san can talk about business. I’ll keep Yuuji entertained so he won’t interrupt.”

Jin startles from your sudden quip and begins to stammer out that it’s fine, that he’ll save the talk for later in the smoking room, when Sukuna returns his previous gesture and gives him a glare.

“I suppose it’s going well,” the youngest twin finally responds with a sigh. “I’m meeting Jiro tomorrow. He wants to talk over logistics and send a rep over to Dubai. I think you should be in the meeting, too.”

Sukuna takes a sip of his whiskey and nods. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

He gives you a furtive look, and as much as he wants to pretend you’re not an important person in his life, the truth is far different from the reality.

You’re nothing but a naive princess who doesn’t know the ins and outs of his world. You live in a fantasy so much different from his own world. Where Sukuna faces rejections, threats and failed investments, all you had going on for you was a rich daddy and a mother who’s descended from retail royalty. You would never understand how important this deal was to him, you could never comprehend the magnitude of burden that rests on his shoulders.

He watches you coo at something Yuuji says, and his rumination catches Jin’s attention. His brother chuckles, and Sukuna swivels back to find him wiggling his brows.

“Say… she’s a natural with children, isn’t she?”

Sukuna bristles. The thing with Jin is that compliments aren’t actually about highlighting a person’s achievements. It’s a means for him to scheme and further coerce someone into doing his bidding.

In this case, Jin’s motivations are clear.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

In answer, Sukuna glowers at his brother, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth curling from a glare to a grimace.

Jin rolls his eyes, twin telepathy at play between the both of them.

Oh, come on. His youngest brother glares back at him. You know it has to happen soon—her father wants grandchildren… that’s part of your deal, Sukuna.

“Are you both… okay?” Your concern breaks their staring contest and Jin turns to you with a slight cough, while Sukuna continues to sip on his whiskey.

“We’re fine,” his twin brother grins. Sukuna grunts.

His eyes flit from Yuuji to you and back to Yuuji again, Jin’s silent question echoing loudly in his head.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

Growing up with a mother as an art collector gave your childhood a magical touch.

On days when Lia brought you to work, you spent hours exploring the exhibition galleries, hiding underneath the stone benches, running and prancing around just to hear your shoes skidding on the polished, honey oak floorings as world class paintings looked on at your naive, childish glee.

Now that you’re older, the gallery is a source of comfort and a spot you spent most of your time, trying to learn the ropes from your mother in hopes that one day, your name might be on the grant of his great building.

After instructing your new driver to circle towards Monolithique, a cube building housing New Age Impressionist art which your mother is particularly fond of, you take the spiral staircase up to her office, letting yourself into the executive suite.

Lia glances up at you from her spot behind the great mahogany desk, her smile both curious and despairing.

“Already back to work so soon?”

You scoff and shrug off your Balmain tote bag, settling it down on the smaller desk to her right. “Why? Hoping I never come back to work again?”

Looking radiant in a yellow sundress with a Tom Ford leather coat hanging from her shoulders, your mother chuckles.

“It’s only been three weeks since the wedding. Itadori-san should be keeping you at home to enjoy your presence.”

At the reminder of how long it’s been since the ceremony and yet, Sukuna refuses to make a move on you despite sharing the same bed together, your bubbly smile falls slightly flat.

“He’s been busy with Project Dubai,” you shrug off your long, black trench coat and set it on the back of the chair, careful not to crumple your new silky Dior dress. “I was growing bored at home.”

Lia eyes the new monochromatic fashion you’re sporting, her lips pursing as she looks you up and down. “The dress is something… different. I’ve never seen such a lack of color on you. Not even a pastel bow in your hair?”

Referring to your old style which Sukuna had insulted as an ‘old maid trying to play a prepubescent girl’, you cringe at the internal shame you still carried around from that conversation. You shrug, trying to play it cool in front of your mom.

“I suppose I came to the realization that my old style was… childish.”

Lia chuckles, shaking her head. “I did love your old style, though. It had a certain innocence. But, you’re right, you’re a married woman now and you need to look sophisticated and carry yourself well.”

You nod, going back to your stack of papers which need your attention after your wedding leave.

“Oh, about the Daley memorial exhibition—”

Your head shoots up, piqued by such an interesting concept. “Did the board bite my pitch idea?”

Lia tries and fails to suppress a smile. “Yes, they did, Y/N. They loved your idea and the suggestion of a tribute for him. Getting his grandson to unveil an exclusive painting which the public has not seen was such a great idea, that even Mrs. Saichi loved it.”

The idea of Mrs. Saichi, or known as the art curator from hell who loves terrorizing the newer hires, loving your idea enough to put aside her cantankerous attitude makes you grin from ear to ear.

“That’s great, mom. I have some other ideas, too that I think the board will like,” you clear your throat, removing a clear binder from your desk drawer. “There’s this artist. His name is Suguru Geto and he studied in Vanliette’s School of Art in Salisbury. He stated that one of his biggest creative inspirations is Nathan Daley and his recent works have been generating hype especially in Denmark for its use of Daley’s paint splatter method. I think he would great to feature as a highlight artist, considering he’s—”

“From Tokyo,” Lia finishes, her eyes twinkling. “Mhm. Yes, I've heard about him, too. A very talented young man, though he is rather… rakish in nature.”

You tilt your head, a polite yet confused smile lifts your lips. “What do you mean by that, mom?”

Lia takes in your innocence with a chortle, folding her hands right in front of her. “It means he’s a playboy, my dear. He’s used to having his way with many, many beautiful women. If we want to get him onboard for the Daley Memorial, we need to employ a very convincing incentive, indeed.”

Her eyes rake across your face, scanning down your bare shoulders. You blanche, the implication of her words rising inside you like the warmth staining your cheeks.

“Are you saying I should be the one to lure him in?”

A smile plays on the corners of her lips. “I believe so. If you so badly want to take over Monolithique and expand to other corners of the world, there are certain sacrifices and tests I must put you through to prove your worth, dear.”

Of course. You’ve made it known many times to Lia how much you yearn to have this art gallery under your name; your dreams of expanding to cities like New York or Chicago are the same ones which fuel your determination to show up at work everyday.

You square your shoulders and steel yourself with a breath. Getting Suguru Geto was no easy feat, but you’re an L/N. Your father’s stubbornness and your mother’s wit runs through your blood. But, like every good businesswoman, you can’t just take the first offer on the table. You had to play your cards right; dig deeper to maximize your benefits.

“And if I do get Geto-san for our exhibition? What will be my compensation?”

Lia’s eyes sparkle at your question; she’s taught you well.

Tapping one manicured finger on her chin, she hums, as if deep in thought.

What she says next is the stuff of your wildest dreams.

Biting her cheek, she says, “I’ll let you take charge of expanding Monolithique to Chicago.”

Your heart literally stops. A breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes past your lips, and you press a hand to your mouth to keep from squealing.

“Are you serious?” Your eyes sparkle with a million stars, the first piece of good news you’ve gotten since your inescapable marriage to Sukuna.

Lia hums, the twinkle in her eyes matching your ecstasy.

“As serious as I've ever been.” Her gaze softens, and she sinks back into her high chair, a satisfied smile across her dewberry stained lips. “But, on one condition.”

You look at her expectantly, willing to do what it takes to see your dreams grow wings and fly. “Yes, mom. Anything.”

Lia exhales, twining her fingers together, looking at you with a keen shine in her eye.

“We expect to hear good news of a grandchild sometime this year.”

Sukuna’s day was going from bad to worse.

First, his assistant messed up his meeting schedule for an important VIP catch-up with Jin and the rest of the committee, then some board bitch from his brother’s posse of investors made a snide comment about his facial tattoos which he couldn’t rebuke if he wanted to play nice. Afterwards, his favorite protein shake bar in the cafe below unexpectedly ran out of his favorite whey solvent and on top of that, his wife has the fucking audacity to text him to come home earlier tonight for dinner.

He’s seething when he reads your message, not bothering to reply and switching his phone off.

If you had half the brains to text him in the morning when he’s still fresh and ready to take on the day, he might’ve been lenient to your request. But, he can’t afford to make anymore mistakes today.

His position as Jin’s VP already drew raised eyebrows from across the room when it was announced just three weeks ago after his marriage to you. The rumor mill ran rampant with voices of dissent, calling him a product of nepotism; whispers behind his back of how he didn’t deserve this position over other long-time cohorts who were unfairly pushed from the top.

Without thinking it through, Sukuna rummages in his desktop drawer, removing a small, white packet.

The entire office had already emptied out a long time ago; Jin himself had rapped his knuckles on his door, announcing his leave to go back home.

It’s just him, a few security guards manning the building, and the promise of his high.

Sukuna lines up the powder on his desk and takes the first hit, feeling the drugs swirl in his system. The familiar high hums in his veins and a dopey smile breaks out across his face. He sighs and sits back in his high end chair, folding his hands on top of his chest.

Enjoying the lightheadedness for a few more moments, Sukuna decides enough time has passed and he needs to crash out in his own bed. The idea of coming back home faded as hell doesn’t even cross his mind when he calls for the chauffeur to pick him, or when he’s ambling straight to the door of the penthouse he shares with you.

The second the lock clicks inside, he’s assaulted by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Candles glitter across every available surface, and it feels like he’s stepped into the middle of a séance.

Sukuna’s confusion is palpable, especially when he notices you rising from the sofa, clad in a skimpy black robe with lace trimmings, the peek of your collarbones past the silk stirring something inside of his chest.

“What’s this?” He tries to demand, but the hardness of his confusion doesn’t translate in his tone. Instead, he sounds curious.

“I made you dinner,” you murmur and this close now, he sees your lips shining with a sheen of plum wine, your skin smooth and flawless under the warm, flickering light.

Sukuna swallows and involuntarily takes a step back.

“I told you I’d be working late—”

“It’s no worries,” you interject, and without a second’s hesitation, close the distance between the two of you. “I don’t mind waiting for you, Itadori-san.”

He can smell the vanilla wafting in your hair, clinging to your skin. Whether the drugs are messing with brain or his resolution is weaker after such a shit day, Sukuna caves in and lifts his hand to your face, running the back of his inked knuckles down your cheek.

Your skin is softer than he imagines, and a jolt runs through him, hot and needy, at the thought of how many days he’s spent asleep next to you on the large, cold bed without even once thinking of caressing such dainty and silky flesh. A flash of heat unfurls down his spine, and he growls, low and in warning, his crimson eyes darkening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, little miss.”

Incredulously, you smirk. Emboldened by his touch, you raise your own dainty palms, pressing it to his chest, feeling the solid muscle underneath his dress shirt.

“Don’t you think we’re both past games, now?” You whisper, hesitantly stripping his jacket off his broad shoulders. The heavy material falls to the floor with a dull thud. Your fingers dance across the buttons of his shirt, and Sukuna doesn’t utter a single word when you start to undress him.

You’re trembling on the inside like a violent earthquake has besieged you, fingers quivering as you work the buttons off, one at a time, until the dip of his pecs appear in your line of sight. A part of you thinks he’s going to snap and come to his senses, pushing you away. But, the dark, pensive look in his eyes doesn’t fade, and it reassures you somewhat.

As if struck by a certain thought, Sukuna brushes your hands away.

Your face melts into a look of hurt, but that changes when he brings his arms to wrap around your smaller figure, pulling you flush to his body. Sukuna’s blood-red eyes hungrily search your face. In the dimness of the penthouse, his facial tattoos stand out garishly, bleeding lines of ink across his skin.

You tentatively reach for his face, cupping it in both your palms. Though no stranger to sex thanks to your reckless youth, this moment feels different. Incredibly intimate. The atmosphere presses around you with sensuous demand, the hot lines of his body against yours causing your heart to thrum out of control.

His crimson eyes fall at half-mast, peering down at you with curiosity swimming in his dark gaze.

You tip his face closer to yours, breath caught in your throat. This will be the first kiss you’ve ever had with him since that day at the altar when he made you his wife.

You can feel your pulse beating wildly through your partially closed eyelids, his lips approaching closer and closer. Your thumb brushes his upper lip, and you’re about to let him close the gap when you see it.

A fine dusting of powder concentrated around his nose.

Instinctively, you gasp, eyes flying wide. Sukuna, who feels the ambience shifting, pries his eyes open too, gazing at you with disgruntled confusion. Before he can ask what has gotten into you, he feels your thumb swiping under his nose, as if scrutinizing some residue.

He blanches immediately, knowing what you would be seeing. What you had found.

Your husband wants to reprimand you for your invasive exploration, but the words catch behind his gritted teeth when you turn your wide eyes to him, shock and dismay mingling upon your expression.

“Sukuna… is this… cocaine?”

a/n. ruh-roh x238585

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms, and claim as your own

#🦢 writes #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk series #jjk fic #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #series: hopelessly devoted

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didhewinkback · 10 months ago

Text

ii most wanted

a post engagement road trip for the something old kids aka i cannot stop listening to this song and ended up writing 2k words of smut about it

word count: see above, warnings: see above

---

The wind was whipping through your hair, the sun streaming in through the windshield, old 70s rock on the radio. The leather of the car seat felt like it was sticking to every inch of your skin but you didn’t mind. The weed you smoked made everything move in slow motion, all your senses heightened. Everything feeling loose, easy, free. Your hand making waves out the window through the wind, up and down in an addictive pattern.

A warm palm slides on your thigh, his thumb moving up and down before squeezing and you all but melt into the seat, turning to look at him. He smiles over at you before looking back at the wide, empty road.

“Y’ good?” he asks, lips twitching up into a smile.

“So good,” you say back, laughter bubbling over your words, heart skipping when he laughs with you. You can’t pinpoint what’s funny and maybe nothing is. It’s just… everything feels so warm and right and real. You turn back to look out the window, marveling at the open roads, the way it's just you and him for miles.

“Look good like this.” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the wind.

“What, stoned?”

“Nooo,” he laughs, shaking his head, wide grin on his face as he looks you over once more. “Meant y’ look happy. Relaxed. Look nice with that ring on your finger.”

You hum, holding up your hand with said ring on it, thumb twisting over the band, back and forth, taking a moment to admire it in the light.

“It’s a good one, innit?” you say and you can see the way his eyes roll even behind his sunglasses but he still grabs your hand and pulls it towards his mouth, thumb brushing over the ring once before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Your man did good, huh?” he says, releasing your hand to slide his back on your thigh. You slide your hand into his hair and he preens, leaning into the touch.

“Yeah, my man did.” you say and he squeezes your thigh, a soft smile on his lips as you rake your hand through his curls, taking your time to study his profile. The cut of his jaw, the line of the beard he’s been growing out. God, he’s nice to look at. He looks good behind the wheel, too, the flex of his arm as he casually holds the steering wheel, legs splayed wide, his lips moving as he softly sings along to the radio.

You’re struck for a moment at the view, at this man you’ve loved for most of your life, at the ring he proposed to you with gleaming against his hair and you think you want to have this view for the rest of your life. To get to be by his side till the day you die. You can feel it wash over you, almost bowling you over. Knowing he wants the same.

Your hand slides down his hair, playing with the curls at the nape before resting on the back of his neck, his muscles jumping at the touch before you squeeze once and he hums in appreciation. A deep sound from the back of his throat and - oh.

It’s been warm all day but you suddenly feel a rush of heat from the inside out. Your eye catches on a bead of sweat falling down the side of his neck, tracing along the tendons until it pools into the collar of his t-shirt and you’re suddenly parched, desperation flooding your veins, overwhelmed by the need to taste, to touch and be touched. You could blame the high but you know it’s him, it’s always him.

You dig your thumb into the muscle where his shoulder meets his neck, the spot that’s always bothering him. His hand tightens on your thigh for a second before he groans when the muscle starts to give way under your touch.

“Harry,” you choke out, your voice reedy and he hums in response. “Pull over.”

He snaps his head to look at you, confused, before he does a double take, brows shooting up behind his sunnies as he reads what must be obvious need all over your face.

“Y’ serious?” he asks incredulously and you nod fervently, shifting in the seat. “Baby, we’re in –”

“The middle of nowhere, we haven’t seen anyone for miles.” you cut him off, quickly undoing your seatbelt and sliding over on the bench seat, ignoring his muttered “jesus” as you press so against his side, his arm going across your lap as a makeshift belt, hand gripping your outer thigh. His eyes flicking between the road and you and you can see the swallow he takes before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his neck, taking your time to kiss along the skin.

You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other sliding down the front of his shirt, twisting in the hem before teasing at the waistband of his jeans, sliding down to palm him, biting down on his neck when he inhales sharply.

“Please,” you mumble against his neck, squeezing him once more, his hips twitching up to chase the touch. “Unless you want to keep driving and I can just -”

You go to duck your head down but he stops you, hand tight on your thigh as he sputters out a “crash the bloody car if you do that” that has you laughing into his neck.

“Jus’ hang on a mo’ - let me -” he can barely string a sentence together as he drives for a bit longer before pulling off the road onto where there’s a dip in the tall grass, in between two cypress trees. You watch as his shaky hands throw the car into park, waiting until he pulls the keys out of the ignition before you’re turning his head towards yours to capture his lips in a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth.

You kiss him once, twice, three times before he’s pulling back, mumbling a “let me get these -” and pulling his sunglasses off and throwing them on the dash before his hand wraps around your neck to pull you back in. Your tongue darts out to lick at the seam of his lips before he’s opening up, the first touch of his tongue against yours wrenches a moan from the back of your throat. His hands move up and down your sides, squeezing occasionally before they slide to your hips, shifting you both until he’s in the middle of the seat as he pulls you into his lap.

You slide your hand up into his hair, getting a steady grip as you kiss him with everything you have. His hands feel like they’re everywhere, all at once, sliding up and down your sides before they slide around your back and down, grabbing a handful of your bum as his tongue glides over yours. Everything is warm, perfect heat as arousal pools in your stomach, slowly losing your mind with every drag of his lips.

He wrenches away from your mouth, panting as he catches his breath, his blown out eyes darting all over your face.

“Want me so bad y’ made me stop the car, hm?” he teases and you’re not even thinking of a comeback before you’re nodding and leaning back in.

You kiss him slowly, taking your time to lick into his mouth, goosebumps erupting at his soft moan, the way his hands grip you tighter, the high making you feel everything ten times deeper. He knows just where to touch you to make you sigh into his mouth, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before resting back on your arse, the other sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s gentle until he’s not, squeezing hard and laughing against your lips when you bite down on his in retaliation.

You lose yourselves in each other, each taking turns to take over, mouths and hands exploring as you please. It’s when he’s got his hand on the back of your neck, controlling the kiss with an expert flick of his tongue that you can’t help yourself and grind down against him.

“That’s it,” he says when he pulls away, one hand falling to your hips to encourage their roll as he kisses along your jaw. “Go after it, baby.”

“Need you naked,” you whisper, pulling his head back up towards you to kiss him again. “Need you - backseat.”

He nods, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling away. You climb off him and gracelessly climb over the backseat, breathless with laughter when you watch him do the same. He cups your jaw, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“Get naked,” he murmurs and you both pull your clothes off as quickly as possible, hands banging against the roof and sides of the car, grunts from when you accidentally kick each other as you’re pulling your jeans off. He makes to hover over you before you shake your head, pushing him back against the seat so he’s sitting up as you straddle him, feeling his hard length right against your core, his eyes wide as he looks up at you, his hand coming up you cup your cheek.

“Baby - someone could see you.” he mumbles and you simply respond with a roll of your hips, making him bite down on his swollen lips, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting on your hips.

“Want them to,” you say, reaching down to curl your hand around him, pumping a few times to watch his neck go taut as you line him up with your center. “Want them to know I’m yours.”

“Jesus- fuck ,” he grunts out, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, his head tipping back to rest on the top of the seat as you sink down on him in one fell swoop, his grip like a vice on your hips.

You’re not so sex stupid to actually risk getting caught - you’re on an abandoned road in the middle of Tuscany - but there’s something about the idea of someone seeing you that’s clearly working for the both of you. You move your hips forward and back, getting used to the stretch as he leans forward to press a line of kisses down your sternum towards your chest, hands sliding up your back as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and gropes the other, soft hands and tongue making you melt.

“How’s it feel?” he mumbles against your chest, switching sides to your other breast as you roll your hips, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“Good. Full.” you mumble, almost delirious in your pleasure, sparks shooting up your spine each time you roll your hips just right. “So full.”

You pull his head off your chest and back up to your mouth to capture his lips in a kiss as you start to find your rhythm, what was once rolls of the hips become full bounces up and down, making him groan against your tongue. He pulls back, one hand falling to grip at your ass as he rests his head against the seat, brow furrowed as he watches you fuck him.

“Y’ so beautiful,” he says, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected. “Fucking - drenching me. In the backseat - shit.”

Your head grazes the roof with every bounce but you can’t be arsed to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, pure want and desire in his eyes, beads of sweat dripping down his chest, his butterfly glistening in the sun. He’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and he’s looking at you like you’re everything and nothing, nothing has ever felt better than this.

“Y’ so good to me,” he grunts out, eyes following your every move. “Love you like this. So fucking hot.”

Fire licks up your spine, your rhythm getting sloppier as his words hurtle you towards your finish. You can barely catch your breath as you dig your nails into his shoulders, grabbing his wrist and pulling it up to your face, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth.

“Fuck. Y’ close, huh?” he asks and you nod around his fingers. “Let’s get you there, baby. Want you to come first, want y’ to come around me.”

He pulls his hand from your mouth, leaning up to kiss you deep, his hand dropping to your clit, drawing mind-numbing circles that have you crying out against his mouth, your hips driving against his more aggressive than ever.

“That’s it. Go after it for me. Want y’ to come, my gorgeous girl.” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back to watch your face with brows furrowed in concentration as he flicks your clit just so and you explode around him, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as you come, moaning out his name as he doesn’t let up until you stop fluttering around him.

You don’t stop your hips, continuing to grind against him despite the overstimulation, your hand latching on to the back of his hair to kiss along his jaw.

“Need you to come,” you gasp out against his jaw, moaning when he groans and grips you tighter. “Want you to fill me up. Want to feel it.”

“Shit - baby. Fuck. I’m -” He bites down on your shoulder, hands falling to your hips as he rocks his hips up to meet yours, thrusting once, twice, and coming, moaning against your skin as you feel his release coat your walls, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against his chest.

The two of you breathing deep, panting as you try to catch your breath. He kisses against your collarbone, his hand coming up to brush your hair back behind your shoulder as he leans in to kiss along your neck before leaning back against the seat, looking well-fucked with rosy cheeks, a soft smile on his face as his chest heaves.

“Got my balls all over the upholstery,” he says and you bark out a laugh as he laughs with you, both of you shaking with it. You lean back to ease him out of you, his hands helping guide you as you slide off his lap and sit next to him, your hands immediately reaching for each other, fingers interlocking as you roll your head along the top of the seat to look over at him.

“Just fucked you within an inch of your life and that’s the first thing you say?” you ask and he huffs out a laugh.

“Y’ did, didn’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t believe you just fucked me in the backseat. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“‘M serious. You’ve got no idea what you look like when you’re looking at me like that. Like ‘m the only thing that matters.” he shakes his head, taking a deep inhale before rolling his head to look over at you, deadly serious, his voice rumbling out like gravel. “Makes me feel like I’m on fire.”

He leans over to capture your lips with his, kissing you so slowly, so carefully, you can feel the fire burning in you once more, the fire that never quite goes away with him.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips and he inhales sharply before kissing you harder, letting go of your hand to bring both hands up to cup your face, holding you in place while he drags his lips against yours.

“Love you too, baby.” he mumbles, kissing you once before pulling back. “Lay back for me. Gonna make you feel how you make me feel.”

“H, you already - oh” you cut yourself off with moan as he sucks a kiss behind your ear, at the spot on your neck that always drives you crazy as he gently pushes you back against the seat.

“Then we can smoke some more, make some sandwiches and take a nap.” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “No rush, yeah? We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” you say, melting against the seat as his lips find yours once more, his hand sliding down your body until it falls between your thighs, making you gasp against his mouth. “We’ve got - we’ve got time.”

You lay back, eyes drawn to the way the sun reflects off his naked back, the pattern his lips draw against your skin making your eyes flutter shut as he presses his fingers into you. Your mind is still hazy but nothing has been more clear. This is all you want. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. Till the day you die.

---

a/n: no ones dying btw its the song lyrics just wanted to make that clear. havent been able to finish writing someting in literal months, have requests in my inbox for not this, but here we are. my blog, my rules. not sure anyones still interested in reading this but i wrote it so im posting !

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #how am i typing these words out again #this story grew in my brain and i simply could not resist it #didnt really edit this #omg ryan just post it

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yesimwriting · 7 days ago

Note

Armand is always on his ipad because hes stalking bestie reader guys 🙄 (she posts stories at partys with louis where shes dancing all cute)

Louis: armand stop trying to get in our friendship... I love you, you dont need to worry

Armand: ...yes... Thats why i was watching her Instagram page.... No other reason... 🧍🏿

a/n this is no joke the first notification i saw on my phone after putting down my ipad 😦 😭 spiritually armand and i are connected through ipad i feel it <33

i love this concept so much, the thought of armand being an ipad social media stalker is so perfect but also the mental image of louis casually looking over at armand and seeing bestie reader's stories on the ipad screen 😭

also do we think bestie reader would have armand added to her close friends/private story or do we think he's on social media in secret and she has no idea he can see her posts at all lmao

----

Your hair is down, the glittery tinsel weaved throughout the stands catching the limited lighting with your every movement. You're wearing more makeup than usual, sparkly product brushed against your cheeks and tiny gem stones glued around your eyelids.

The camera shakes slightly as you move to set down your cell phone, allowing a complete view of what you're wearing. Armand recognizes the silver sequined slip immediately. He had been there when you bought it.

After that clip comes to an end, a second one immediately takes its place. You're beaming, projecting a warmth that you've never directed at him as you turn your camera towards the source of your admiration. Louis, of course it's your beloved Louis.

The third and final video available on your story is of you and Louis again, this time Louis and you are dancing in a way that doesn't suit the environment. It's more of a caricature of a formal dance than a genuine attempt at one, but the two of you are so visibly content it doesn't seem to matter. Louis extends an arm, guiding you through a spin. The video ends with your gentle laugh.

Armand clicks out of your story, allowing his tablet's screen to return to just the general overview of your account. He should leave your profile, should leave this app all together and focus on anything else.

He taps your profile picture again.

Armand doesn't think about your features or his opinions on them very often. It's simpler that way, easier to make sure that he primarily associates you with Louis and all of the inconveniences your constant presence in their lives has brought him. But in the first video, with the camera so focused on you...it's difficult to dismiss your appearance.

The second video replaces the first, and he's once again overwhelmed by how transparent your love for Louis is. It's an affection so genuine and certain Armand's not sure if he's ever experienced anything quite like it.

"Stalker." The word is whispered much too gently to hold any weight. Armand turns his head. Louis is already looking at him, an easy smile playing at his lips. Louis always returns to him in a better mood after spending time with you. Maybe your goodness is so absolute that it's contagious.

"I was just curious about what you spent the better part of your evening doing." The response is honest enough for Louis to take it at face value. Armand had originally looked at your account out of curiosity.

Louis shifts further onto his side, his arm reaching for Armand. There's something comforting about the way that Louis's fingers bend around his wrist. "You could have asked."

He's not wrong. Louis never lies about you. Armand's sure that most of Louis's transparency comes from a lack of need for dishonesty in anything that involves you, but Armand wouldn't be surprised if Louis's candor was another way of keeping you safe. After all, how could Armand fault you for anything if Louis gives you no reason to shed your innocence?

However, Louis would never admit to this second reason if asked. Even now, with you more familiar to both of them than ever, Louis still does what he can to keep a certain distance between you and Armand. Louis may love Armand, but he doesn't trust him to never turn you into a casualty of an argument as he pretends to.

"You seemed a lot more tired a moment ago." Another true-enough statement. Louis had seemed almost asleep until now.

Louis lifts his head a little more, his free arm moving to hold up his head. "I'm getting a second wind."

Hm. Louis said that you had been one to call it a night. Maybe you're feeling a little less tired as well...would you bide your time alone by doing something like reading or watching one of those shows you love or would you go out again? Would you want to stay alone or would you seek out company?

Armand's quick to dismiss the thought. You wouldn't go out again...Louis is too careful with you when you're drunk to leave you without making sure that you're going to bed.

"You don't have to worry about her." The words are almost too relevant. Louis drags his thumb against the inside of Armand's wrist, the gesture almost too placating. "I love you."

Armand allows his eyes to fall shut. Louis's affections do mean something to him...it's just difficult to not wonder if things would feel more fulfilling if he had your devotion as well.

There has to be something that intrinsic quality that allows you to hold so much of Louis's attention. If you'd just look at him in the same way, maybe he'd finally understand it. Perhaps, if you offered him a fraction of what you give to Louis so openly, he'd no longer have to think of you so often.

"I know." Armand turns off his tablet's screen, his other hand moving to take Louis's. "And I'm not worried..." He really isn't. Armand has seen into your thoughts and he has witnessed the way you and Louis interact with each other. The love that's there is objectively platonic, and even if it wasn't so evident, Louis is too careful with you to have introduced you to Armand if he had any intentions of betraying him with you. "I know how you two are. I was just curious."

Louis drags his thumb against Armand's knuckles before laying down fully. His burst of energy seems to have been short lived. "If you're so curious, you could come out with us tomorrow. We're going to the movies and then to a club opening some promoter invited her to."

What. Armand's hold on his tablet tightens. "Some promoter?"

"A guy she met in line at the bar," Louis explains, "He was trying to make himself seem more important, you know how that is."

Yes, Armand knows exactly that is. Too many people are much too comfortable thinking about you in certain ways and attempting to turn those thoughts into reality. "I can imagine."

He's witnessed the way people treat you often enough for him to piece together what it had been like. You're usually much more perceptive than anyone gives you credit for, and yet something about that type of attention seems to taint your ability to think clearly.

"She's not unintelligent, and yet she always seems to behave like she is when she's put in those situations." Armand delivers the words carefully, keeping his tone even as a way of masking the extent of his annoyance.

Louis angles his head towards Armand, smiling in a way that feels a little too knowing. "You're worried about her."

"No." Armand forces an appropriate level of repulsion into his immediate reaction.

"Yes," Louis counters, "You like her more than--"

"I do not." Louis raises his eyebrows at the interruption. "She is a--nuisance that I tolerate out of love for you."

Louis studies his companion for another moment before giving in with an unconvinced, "Okay." Armand can feel Louis's smug disbelief, however, attempting to push the issue further right now would only make Armand seem like he cares a lot more than he does. "Are you going out with us tomorrow?"

It's the most apparent trap that Louis has ever laid for him. Still, Armand can't help a begrudging, "It seems more entertaining than staying here."

"Okay, good." Louis is quiet for such a long moment Armand almost convinces himself that his companion has fallen asleep. "She asked about you."

An uneasy warmth Armand's not meant to be capable of feeling briefly digs at him. He presses his lips together before responding, "Did she?"

"Mhm," Louis mumbles, "She said she actually missed you, because she's capable of admitting that despite your bickering, you're friends."

Armand disagrees. You've never given any indication of caring about him beyond an obligation to Louis. "Please, she could befriend inanimate objects if she wanted to."

"Then she shouldn't have to work so hard to try to befriend you."

Another point Armand can't agree with. "She's trying?"

"Yes," the response is exactly what Armand was expecting. Louis could never find a reason to blame you for anything. "And it wouldn't hurt if you tried to do a little more than tolerate her."

Louis might believe he wants more proximity between the two of you, but in reality, he views you as the one, damageable thing in his life. Too valuable and too fragile for him to be trusted with.

"You enjoy our lack of proximity." His genuineness surprises him more than it should. Louis's worry over you has yet to become a point of contention, but that's likely because it often remains unspoken.

"What? Louis stills, his eyebrows drawing together in a surprised disbelief. "Why would I--"

"She is the only thing that can be taken from you." Armand stares at the dark screen in front of him instead of permitting himself to look at Louis. They both know what he's saying is true. "She is your vulnerability, and you don't trust me with her."

Louis's lips part in instinctual protest, but the truth there seems to reach him before he can think to speak. How often has Louis warned him? Threatened him? If you do anything, if you hurt her at all, you won't mean anything to me. How often has Louis studied his interactions with you, always reminding him of how unforgivable it would be to do or say anything that would push you away?

"I am...protective of her," the admission leaves Louis slowly. Armand's more surprised by this than he should be. The only thing that's ever come close to being an actual issue in your friendship is Louis's occasionally overwhelming desire to make sure that you're never hurt. "Because of her humanity, and because of what losing her would do to me."

Louis squeezes his hand once. "And I know it can be a lot...even to her." An understatement. Louis turns Armand's hand over before kissing his knuckles. When Louis pulls away, Armand can see the determination behind his gaze. "But I love you, so I trust you." This is a more interesting development than anything Armand thought would happen tonight. "So I promise to ease off a little, if you promise to try to get along with her."

Armand's nearly thrown by the opening. He squeezes Louis's hand. "I can try." He leans away from Louis and towards his nightstand. He sets down his Ipad before relaxing back into place. "And I promise to be as careful as possible with your beloved fawn."

Louis scoffs, but the sound lacks any real malice. "If you call her that, I'm going to have to be the one to tell her to be careful with you."

Considering the amount of times you've threatened him over less, Armand doesn't doubt it. "As long as you're willing to defend me."

----

this was supposed to be shorter and i was supposed to do homework tonight 😦

#iwtv x reader #interview with the vampire x reader #iwtv x fem!reader #bestie reader verse #armand x reader #louis de pointe du lac x reader #itwv x reader

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biblio-smia · 1 year ago

Text

every artist needs a muse

pairing: (tasm!) peter parker x gender neutral reader

part two of excuse me, could i get a picture?

masterlist | requests are open!

buy me a ko-fi!

Brown leaves scatter over stone and ground. Barren trees stand tall above where they've shed their adornments, but even they seem sad and droopy.

Peter sighs, lowers his camera. It's ironic how inspired fall makes him feel while the season that follows kills it immediately.

The least Peter can do is look for new faces to photograph. Then maybe today wouldn't have been a total waste.

With a few ounces of newfound encouragement, Peter lifts the camera to eye level again. He zooms in, letting the lens focus on one person at a time. Peter moves from figure to figure, none quite catching his eye. He blames the early hour, blames himself more; his desire to get a head start on the day has backfired tremendously.

Peter is about to lower his camera again when he catches something. His phone dings at that moment but the vaguely familiar side profile he's spotted has caught and reeled his attention; the person he's staring at through his camera eerily resembles the person he's spent a little too much time clicking through photos of.

Peter is sure it's you when your head rises from your phone. He stands immediately, camera dropping, the tug on his neck telling him he was smart enough to remember to hang it on himself first. He's tempted to yell your name when he realizes just how far he'd been looking at you from. Another idea strikes him - he reaches for his phone; sure enough, that notification had been from you.

"ppparker: turn around!!!!"

He's interrupting the conversation you two had been in the middle of, but Peter can apologize in a second. He watches from afar as you take your phone out and stop, turning around from where you stand.

Peter waves furiously, light string of laughter spilling from his lips. You're too far to hear, but you can see his grin and he can see you light up with a smile.

The two of you begin walking to each other, meeting each other in the middle with giddy grins. Your arms are crossed over your coat, your head tilting curiously.

"Are you following me, Peter Parker?"

Peter's heart thumps hearing you say his entire name. He knows it wasn't hard to figure out, considering it was half of his username, but he suspects it's something about you in this equation that's flustering him.

"You know what, I was just about to ask you that," Peter grins.

"You were going to ask me if Peter Parker is following you?" It's a terrible joke, but Peter laughs anyway. Your gaze trails down Peter's figure, land on the camera that once again hangs around his neck. "Get anything good?"

Peter follows your eyes, picking his camera up. In his rush, he'd forgotten to turn it off, didn't even cover the lens. "Nah, not really," he admits, watching as the small screen goes black.

"I don't believe that," you grin.

"Ah, I barely took anything," Peter says, getting his head out of the camera strap. "Nothing really caught my eye until I saw you."

You're not sure how Peter means it; he says it too smoothly, but so genuinely you can't help but take it as a compliment.

Peter's face warms as his words replay in his head as he stores his camera in the bag he'd brought along with him, embarrassment growing with your silence. But when he looks at you again, you're smiling, sending a new wave of confidence through him.

"I, uh, I'm not in a rush today," Peter begins, messing with the strap of his bag nervously. "Are you? Cause we could maybe get coffee? Or something?" Peter's eyes are wide with hope, heart hammering in his chest.

The pace of your heart quickens, a smile spreading slowly as he asks. Your body grows warm, your coat suddenly feeling too hot as you nod. "Sure."

Peter's shoulder relax as he nods. "Cool. Do you mind if we go uptown?"

You shake your head no, wondering where Peter will take you. "Whisk me away," you grin and Peter does. He sticks his arm out for you to grab and the two of you are off. The wind whips violently around you but you feel particularly warm against Peter's side.

Eight blocks go by quickly when you and Peter talk, conversations light and friendly as they were when you first met with, now with the occasional flirtatious comment, instagram chats equipping the both of you with the confidence to throw them in.

"Right here." Peter motions as the two of you approach a small cafe. He's polite, holding the door open for you to walk in first. The cafe is small and quite full; Peter puts a gentle hand on your back, keeping you in front of him as you wait in line. You admire the pastries in the display case, fawn over the menu. Peter looks at you with a smile as you hum over what to order, asking his opinion and his personal favorites.

Peter refuses to let you pay, something about making it up to you for leaving you in a rush last time.

The two of you find a table in the corner, not secluded but out of the way, just enough for the two of you to converse comfortably.

Well, rather than trying to have a conversation, you're much more occupied with trying to admire Peter in the sunlight that creeps in through the shop windows.

It's much more difficult than it sounds - you've currently settled for piecing together glances here and there or else you'd be caught staring.

But would that really be such a terrible thing?

It'd be payback for how long Peter had spent staring at you while taking photos, how warm the session had made you felt. You recall how you'd walked a little straighter afterwards, a little smile etched on your face that didn't want to disappear.

It was only fair for Peter to get that same treatment.

Peter falters a little when you pull out your phone (was he really being that boring?), his open-mouthed expression transforming into one of pure confusion when Peter is pretty sure you're taking photos of him. Unless you're just holding your phone at a really weird angle.

"Ha, ha," Peter laughs once it dawns on him. "Photographing the photographer. I get it. That's funny." He's smiling, but it's nervous. You're no photographer, but you can't help but think that this is what you resembled in the shots that had earned a strained smile from Peter.

"You're a terrible model."

Peter laughs, genuinely, and you're able to capture a few good ones, a small grin spreading on your face as you look at the photos captured, quickly, before they disappear.

"Let me see?" Peter cranes his head towards you curiously but you turn your phone over quickly.

"No way am I showing my rookie photos to a professional." You're smiling but only half-joking, not making any moves to flip your phone screen into Peter's line of sight.

Peter rolls his eyes light-heartedly. "Automatic disqualification."

You gasp. "No!"

"Yes," Peter grins with a shrug. "It's only fair."

You laugh lightly. Your cheeks are starting to hurt, but you know you won't feel the pain until you're alone.

"So," you grin as your orders are placed on the table in front of you, grateful for the distraction. "No one photographs the photographer?"

Peter mirrors your smile. "Nah," he shakes his head, glancing at you as he begins to dig in. "I prefer to be behind the camera."

"Well, I assumed that much," you laugh.

Peter chuckles, eyes squeezing shut in a way that makes your heart thump. "I mean, I don't hate it or anything, I just don't really feel a need to." Peter shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well, that's just a crime against humanity."

Peter makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh.

"I'm serious!" You protest once you've finished chewing your food. "People already go crazy for you on your tiktok."

You say it so casually Peter's heart stops. Of course, he knows you've seen his tiktok. You started your message with that. Though something about your sudden attention to his social media presence makes him do mental cartwheels trying to remember if he's anything posted anything super embarrassing you could've seen.

"I really liked your caption, by the way," you say between sips of your drink. "What was it again? 'Me flirting for five minutes?'"

Peter groans as you laugh, hiding his face in his palms. His cheeks are warm with embarrassment and he's sure it's visible on the tips of his ears. "Okay, that was-"

"Very honest. I appreciate it." You give Peter an approving nod, mischievous smile stuck on your lips.

"I didn't think you'd see it," Peter admits, pulling his face out of his hands and unknowingly sending a surge of pride to your chest at his embarrassment.

"I'm glad I did," you admit honestly. "I mean, I really thought the entire thing had been in my head."

Peter snorts at that. "I promise I'm not that nice to every stranger I meet on the street."

"As expected from a New Yorker."

Peter's amusement is clear on his face, eyes bright and crinkling at the corners. He's only had the pleasure of sharing a few conversations with you, but each is better than the last. More of your personality shines through each one and Peter feels like he's on the edge of his seat, ready for whatever you let him find out next.

"You know I wouldn't have hunted you down so hard if I didn't like you, right, Peter?"

The sound of his name from your lips never fails to make him feel like those cartoon characters with hearts in their eyes and Peter is determined to do whatever it takes to create as many situations where you say it as he can.

Peter might've been able to come up with something incredibly smooth if he hadn't been so star-struck (though, let's face it, anything Peter would've come up with would have been incredibly lame), but the visible shock on his face was enough to save him this time around.

For such a smart guy, so many things just flew over his head.

"Well-" Peter stutters out, but you interrupt before he can make a complete fool out of himself.

"Is this a date, Peter?"

Now that makes Peter scoff.

"No way!" Your heart sinks as Peter laughs, trying not to let your face drop completely. "That would be cheating. If I were to ask you out, I'd ask you to go on a proper date, in advance." Peter laughs, as if you'd been silly to assume he'd be anything less than proper with you.

"So, are you going to ask me out?"

Peter stammers, lips gaping as he searches for an answer.

"You don't have to, I just wanted-"

"No!" Peter interrupts, hands waving desperately. "No, I do want to ask you out. Like, really want to," Peter assures.

"Oh-kay," your eyebrows raise unconsciously, voice dragging on expectantly. But Peter's phone dings in a vaguely recognizable way and he stiffens.

Peter stands suddenly, bumping the table and empty plates with his leg. "Where are you going now?"

You're taken aback slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I don't know, probably home-"

"Let me walk you to the station?"

You glance at Peter curiously but his arm is outstretched and his question is genuine. Although you've long since established that he likes you, there's still a few ounces of doubt inside of you - but you push them down in favor of Peter's hand, taking it and letting him lead you outside.

The way his phone dings continuously and the way he stood tell you he has to go but the way he walks with you suggests he doesn't want to. There's a nervous glint in Peter's eyes as he looks around once the two of you have arrived to a flight of stairs leading below ground. He holds your hands in his, lightly, so that you can slip out if you'd like to.

Though, you don't want to leave either.

"Are you busy Friday night?" Peter asks shyly, unable to look straight into your eyes.

"Depends," you grin teasingly.

"Could I convince you with some food that will completely change your life?"

"That's a very big promise."

"It's a guarantee," Peter maintains.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. "6 p.m.?"

"Whatever works for you," Peter nods quickly. "I'll pick you up?"

"I'll send you my address," you agree.

"Okay. Cool. Great." Peter laughs nervously and, before he can regret it, presses a quick kiss to the back of your hand just before he takes off.

You hang onto the railing for support as you all but stumble down the steps, a little dizzy from Peter's lips. Once you recompose yourself you turn towards the light of the sky shining above the street - but Peter is long gone, leaving you with a giddy anticipation for the feeling of his lips on yours.

tagging everyone who was interested in a pt 2!!

@lanadevotee @miwagila @strangereads @ghostlyfleur @theorgansarerotting

please let me know if anyone would like to be tagged for future parts!!

i'd also like to say thank you so so much for all the kind comments/reblogs on excuse me, could i get a picture? gajkngjksn reading through all of them makes me dizzy seriously you guys are so sweet!!

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #v + peter #v writes

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airbendertendou · 5 months ago

Text

WiLTED TiMER! ♥︎ inui sieshu

aka you’re seishu’s safe place, always. cw : survivor's guilt ; bonten timeline ; mentions of grief ; akane mention

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

The phone buzzing is what wakes you up. The sight of your apartment is blurred and dark, indicating it’s past time for any phone calls. Groggily, you grab your phone and answer it without looking at who’s calling.

He doesn’t even say hello when you answer. A sob echoes into the receiver, waking you up a little more as he sniffles. “I killed her, didn’t I, [name]? I killed my sister.”

“No, no you did not.” You fight the blankets off of you, rushing to turn on your bedroom lights and find a pair of shoes. Hopping on one foot, you listen as Inupi argues with you and continues to demean himself. You click the kitchen lights on as well, gathering your keys and a jacket as you get to the front door. “Inui, where are you? I’m going to come find you and we’ll talk, okay? Just tell me where you are.”

Panicking — you’re panicking behind your stone-faced, calm facade because of how broken he sounds. How sure he sounds that it’s his fault his sister is gone. Another sob into the speaker as you fling your front door open.

And there he is, leaning against the wall to your apartment. Your arms fall weakly as you take him in ; as you see the tears that have gathered on his face and the absolute devastation that colors every inch of him.

You let out a relieved sigh, “oh, 'nupi...” Of course he came to you — he always managed to show up where you are when he got like this. When he couldn’t fight his mind on his own. Gathering him in your arms, you barely feel as he all but pushes you back into your apartment.

Trembling hands fasten around your waist, hiccups shaking his body. You tighten your hold, stumbling until your back meets the couch and Inupi lands on top of you. You shush him as well as you can, fighting your own tears at how broken he sounds.

Seconds, minutes, hours — your grip on Inupi never lessens, and his grip on you stays the same. His breathing has calmed expodentially and all you can feel are his eyelashes brushing against your neck.

"Inupi?" It feels odd to hear your voice after so long — it's loud as it rings around your living room. The blond simply nuzzles his face deeper into your neck. Your fingers rake through his hair softly before you tug, making him look at you. "Need to know how you are, Seishu."

The sound of his name brings him back. Jade eyes blink up at you, a shaky breath leaving his chest slowly. "Okay. M'okay, [name]."

"Sure?" Inupi lets out another breath, eyes tired, red and droopy. He yawns, lips pouting as he blinks. You smile lightly at him, twirling his hair once more. "Okay. Want to stay here — head to bed?"

Inupi stands shakily, leading the way to your bedroom. He knows the way by heart now, stumbling through the dim light until he's climbing into your sheets. You watch him for a second as he curls into himself, face smooshed into the pillow you were laying on. Puffy eyes meet yours once more as he pats the empty side of your bed, gesturing for you to join him.

"It'll get better one day," Seishu says quietly to himself.

You crawl into your bed with a nod, laying down and quickly getting comfortable. "One day at a time. And I'll be here the whole way."

The blond snuggles back into you, his face hiding in your neck and arms winding around your hips. "...thank you."

"'Course."

Inupi pulls briefly away from you with a sniffle, puffy eyes dancing down your figure as his pout deepens. “You look really nice today.”

“I’m in my pajamas ; the day is over.”

“You look nice every day,” he responds, stuffing his face back into your chest. Letting out one final deep breath, Seishu settles and relaxes into your arms. "See you in the morning, [name]."

You simply hum in return, knowing he wouldn't sleep well. Good sleep was rare for you both — nightmares of different kinds haunting your dreams. You hope, for his sake, tonight would be better.

——♥︎——

don’t ask me how long this has been drafted <3 hope i wrote inupi well ); nd that he’s [mostly] in character. as always, thank you for reading and if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyorev content, let me know! ♡

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @chrofeisnightmaregf @natsumesakasakisupremacy @emperorsnero

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, first I just wanna say I love the way you write Rafe! I'm actually becoming a lil obsessed.

If you are still taking random requests or ideas, could I please request one where Rafe suddenly realises Sarah's BFF from childhood is hot. Like Topper or Kelce make a comment about her and Rafe suddenly realises the beautiful person she has become.

I love this so much, I'm so glad you like how I write him, he's one of my favorite characters to write right now! Thank you for this request! I typically don't write third person things but I felt that it was really fitting for this!

"Hey hotshot!" Barry calls out to the girl walking across the driveway, her flip-flops slapping against the stone as she throws a look their way, Rafe's eyes cautiously lowering to the ground as he avoids her sassy gaze.

"Eat shit and die, Barry!" She calls out with a bright grin, her middle finger flipped in the air and he laughs, bumping Rafe with his elbow as the blonde turns to look at his friend with teasing eyes.

"Jesus Christ that woman could run me over with her expensive ass car and I'd thank her." Barry sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as Sarah and Y/n talk, their eyes flickering over to the two men briefly before giggling. "You ever tap that?"

"She's my little sisters best friend?" Rafe states incredulously but Barry doesn't care, his shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug.

"And? She's hot." He laughs, eyes raking up and down Y/n's form with no shame and Rafe clears his throat, mind swirling with thoughts as he finally takes a second to look at her, really look at her.

"I guess." Rafe mutters but something clicks in his mind as he gazes at her and he feels his gaze soften a bit as he looks at her side profile, her smile, the dimples on her cheeks as she laughs loudly, head tipping back in laughter. "Yeah, she really is, isn't she?" He asks breathlessly and she turns to look at them with wide eyes, almost as if she heard what he had said and she did much to Rafe's surprise.

She's stepping towards them moments later, Sarah trailing behind her with a hushed giggle and Y/n's head tips back to look at her friend once more with a teasing glance before approaching the men.

"Hi Rafe." Y/n sings, pressing a hand to Barry's chest to move him out of the way and he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender as he takes a step back away from the two.

"Hey Y/n." Rafe smiles, a light blush dusting his cheek as he bites at his lip anxious, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

"You up to anything or are you free?" Sarah laughs again as if she knows what Y/n's getting at and she holds a hand over her face to hide her laughter and knowing expression. Y/n just cranes her neck to look back at her best friend with a glare, telling her silently to shut up.

"For you, we'll help you with anythin' you need." Barry butts in with a wide grin, hand reaching out to rest on Y/n's back and she laughs loudly, shoving him away again with a teasing grin.

"Wasn't asking you, I was asking Rafe."

"I'm free." Rafe answers without missing a beat, kicking off of the car so he can step up to her with a soft smile, head tilted as he looks down at her inquisitively and she feels a flutter in her stomach at the look in his eyes.

"So am I, wanna take me out?" She asks Rafe in a bubbly tone and his face pales, eyes briefly flickering to Barry almost to ask 'is she for real?'. "What? You act like I'm deaf."

"Please don't run me over." Barry mutters, referencing his comment from earlier and she giggles, reaching out to pat his shoulder before turning to Rafe to whisper under her breath.

"I don't see why you're friends with him."

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff

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blackheartsclub · 7 months ago

Text

Working out || Xaden Riorson

You and Xaden hate each other... Or do you?

warnings: smut, reader has a female body, praise, dom Xaden, sub reader

word count: 2,6k

authour's note: ok sooo I loved fourth wing so I just had to write this... anyways enjoy

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sky was blue for the first time in two weeks, and you decided to take a walk to clear your head. Threshing was finally over, and you had bonded a red scorpion tail rather quickly. She was probably away hunting sheep or something at the moment, since she had cut you out mentally.

The parapet was slightly visible in the distance. You had been on it several times after making it over the first time, (stupid, I know), but there was just something so peaceful about being there. Not to mention that it was one of the few places you could be alone. You liked your friends of course, but sometimes you wanted to be alone with your thoughts.

You stepped onto the narrow stone overpass in front of you and immediately felt your body relax. Even though it was fairly good weather today, there were always some fog around the parapet. Which explains why you didn’t see the 6 foot huge man sitting in the middle of it until you were standing directly in front of him.

Xaden Riorson.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked and glared at his profile.

He slowly turned his head towards you and fixated his onyx-colored eyes on yours.

“Well, y/l/n, I could ask you the same thing,” he muttered and cocked his head to the side.

“Ugh, just leave,” you pointed behind you demonstratively.

“Is that the way you should talk to your wingleader, Little One?” he stood up.

Ugh, you hated that nickname.

“Riorson, please just leave me alone for once,” you muttered, not in the mood today for his teasing.

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up and stepped towards you.

You stared up at him, he was so freaking tall it was scary.

“Move, Little One,” he said quietly and gently moved you by your waist so he could pass.

“Don’t touch me, asshole,” you muttered, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

You were just met with a laugh as he walked away, leaving you alone on the parapet.

Xaden was your wingleader, and an annoying one at that. He loved to tease you for some reason, and you hated it. The nickname “Little One” came from when he had helped you up onto your dragon the second time you were riding. Now he saw you as tiny because of that, but on the other hand everyone must seem small to him.

There was some tiny piece of you that liked talking to Xaden… and looking at him. But come on who could blame you?? The man was gorgeous, no doubt. Everyone basically swooned when they saw him, and that didn’t make you jealous… Not at all…

When evening came, everyone assembled to eat dinner. You sat down with your two friends and started talking about the day.

“So, you disappeared for a while today y/n, where did you go?” Autumn asked.

“Yeah, we looked for you,” Ian said.

“Oh, I just needed to study some more,” you said.

“You always say that,” Ian looked meaningly at you.

Before you could answer there was something else that stole your attention.

Xaden and his friends just walked in, and you couldn’t help that you stared. He looked so damn good when he had casual fits on, gosh.

“You’re staring,” Autumn nudged you with her elbow.

“I am not,” you shot back and quickly looked down to avoid eye contact.

“Whatever you say,” she snickered.

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking up again and was met by onyx eyes staring right into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat. Shit.

Xaden smirked at you, freaking winked and then looked away.

“Are you blushing, y/n?” Ian blurted out.

“SHUT UP!”

The next morning started with sparring with the other first years. Occasionally you could fight someone from the second year. Imogen looked suspiciously happy today, which could mean she was fighting you…

“Alright everyone, first pair for today is Simone Casteneda and Jace Sutherland,” Professor Emetterio calls.

You try to focus on the fighting but it’s hard when the hottest brunette ever is staring at you. Like, really staring. Xaden hadn’t taken his eyes of you since you came in the room. He’s standing beside Imogen with his arms crossed and jaw locked, his gaze fixated on you. That can’t be good.

When the fight is over and Simone wins by taking Jace in a headlock, Xaden walks over to the professor and whispers something.

“Uhm okay, next pair is y/n y/l/n and Xaden Riorson,” Emetterio says.

What the hell?

“What?” Autumn whispers from beside you.

“Whatever, I’ll try,” you mutter back and step onto the mat.

You check so that you have your knifes strapped on where they’re supposed to be and look up at Xaden.

“Hey, Little One,” he says.

“Riorson,” you nod.

“I’ll be a bit fair with you, okay? I took away my weapons. But it doesn’t matter anyways ‘cause I’ll still win,” he smirks.

You feel the anger build in your chest.

“You think I’m no match for you? Huh?” you snap.

You leap forward, grabbing a knife from your thigh and aiming for his stomach. Xaden grabs your arm and quickly disarms you, making the knife fly away on the floor.

“You can’t let your feelings take over,” he says quietly, like he only wants you to hear it.

You twist your arm from his grasp and step back, massaging the skin absent mindedly.

Xaden gestures for you to come at him again with two of his fingers, and you gulp.

You try again. And again. And again. Finally, you only have one knife left strapped to your right thigh. You’re panting, and your hair has come undone slightly and little strands of it hangs in your eyes.

“Come on, y/l/n. Try one more time,” Xaden mocks.

You glare at him, but charge at him again. This time you try to go for his legs to make him loose his balance, but instead of him falling, you end up on your back with Xaden on top of you. You groan when your back hits the mat harder than you expected.

“Ow,” you mutter.

“Come on Little One, how can you take advantage of his situation, hm?” Xaden pins his arm against your throat, pressing slightly.

You consider sticking out your tongue at him but then slowly realize what you could do. You have one knife left. Before he can react, you’ve slid the knife from your thigh and press it against his abdomen. It’s hard to hide the triumphant smirk on your lips.

“Good, now you’re on the right track,” Xaden says and grabs the knife from you in one swift motion.

You groan and try to get up. Fine, he won, whatever. The guy is like a damn giant, who thought you had a chance anyways?

“y/n,” Xaden hiss.

He never uses your first name, what…?

“Don’t move like that, I’ll get up,” he says from gritted teeth.

“Why? What’s wrong-“ and that’s when you feel it.

Xaden is in a perfect position to… Oh. And he’s thinking it too.

You move again and Xaden grabs your wrist.

“No, stay fucking still,” he hisses again and stares at you.

Oh, this is… fun.

You move again and shit, you can really feel him against you.

“y/n, I swear to the gods I’ll take you right here in front of everyone if you don’t stop.”

Oh. My. God.

“I uhm…” you stutter.

Xaden just shakes his head at you and gets up, nods, and leaves the room.

What the hell just happened??

The next few days you don’t see Xaden at all, it almost seems like he’s avoiding you. But that can’t be it… right? You on the other hand has had your mind occupied by him every hour of the day. You can´t stop thinking about how close he was, how good he smelled, how he felt…

Almost as if he can read your thoughts, Xaden appears in the gym where you´re currently training on your own. It´s 11 p.m., perfect for working out if you want to be alone. Well almost perfect apparently, since Xaden just walked in.

You look up from where you´re standing doing squats with a bar.

“Oh, it’s you,” you say and continue.

“Hello to you too, Little One,” Xaden says and walks over to stand beside you.

“Something you want?” you ask.

“Nah, just wanted to work out,” he says and starts to take his shirt off.

Oh fuck.

He´s so perfectly built it´s unreal, and his rebellion relic looks stunning on top of that amazing body. Omg.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.

“Uh-huh,” you stare at him.

“Little One,” he walks up to you and tilts your head up towards him by putting two fingers under your chin, “Eyes up here.”

You stare at him, unable to answer. He has made you freaking speechless.

Xaden softly strokes his thumb over your lower lip, making a small electric current run through your body. You part your lips slightly at the touch, which makes Xaden´s eyes fall on your mouth. When he looks up at you again there´s heat in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a low voice.

“Please,” you breath.

Xaden slowly moves closer, almost painfully slow, and you sigh when you finally meet his lips with yours. He kisses you slow, but hard, making you long for so much more. You put your hands in his hair, his extremely soft hair, and tug him closer. His hands slide from your cheeks, down your curves and rests on your hips. He tugs you against him, and you push your body flush against his. Your heart drums hard in your chest, and you feel how the room seems to turn warmer.

Xaden pulls away for a second and just looks at you. You look back, in chock from what just happened.

“I don´t think I´m going to be able to stop kissing you, Little One,” he says.

“So don´t,” you almost whisper.

“You sure?” he pulls you towards him again, and gathers your hair in his fist to tilt your head back.

“Yes,” you breath against his lips.

He kisses you again, this time hard, and deep. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, and you whimper into his at the feeling. That seems to have an impact on him because he pulls your hair back to be able to kiss you even deeper. His hands squeeze your waist as he backs you against a table. In a moment he has you on top of it and steps to stand between your legs. A little yelp escapes you when he presses against you, fully hard, and squeezes your thighs.

“Feel that, Little One? That´s what you do to me,” he says and moves to kiss down your jawline.

“Xaden…” you sigh and hold on to his hair for dear life as he nibbles and bites the skin on your neck.

“Mhm,” he mumbles and starts sucking a spot just below your ear.

“Oh… Xaden!” you whimper.

“Fuck, Little One,” he says and steps back.

“What?”

“I don´t think I´m gonna be able to stop, you sure about this?” he says and licks his lips.

“Yes, I’m sure, Xaden,” you look up at him.

“Good. Shirt off. Now,” he orders.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his tone, and keep eye contact with him as you slowly pull your shirt over your head and drop it on the floor.

“Beautiful,” he breathes.

“Pants too,” he says then.

“Xaden…” you blush.

“y/n, take off your pants right now so that I can touch you,” he growls.

Fuck.

You nod, quickly letting your pants fall to the floor as well.

“Good girl.”

He walks up to you and kisses you hard again, this time letting his hands gently move over your now naked thighs. You feel goosebumps appear where his fingers touch you, and heat pools in your belly. Xaden slowly strokes his fingers over your panties, making you whine. He moves down to kiss your neck again and gently adds pressure, stroking you in lazy circles. You breath harder, holding onto his shoulders. Oh gosh.

“That feel good, hm?” Xaden murmurs.

“Y-yes, more…” you whimper.

“Oh, someone’s needy,” he chuckles.

“Shut up and- oh…” you whine when he pulls your panties to the side and continues stroking your now swollen clit.

“And what?” Xaden breathes into your ear and slowly slides a finger into you.

“F-fuck,” you moan.

“Mm, you´re so wet, Little One,” he groans while adding another digit.

“Xaden!” you moan, clutching his arm when he starts moving his fingers.

“That´s right, say my name,” he murmurs.

Xaden speeds up his fingers, and at the same time strokes your clit with his thumb. You see stars, it feels so good. It´s almost embarrassing how close you are already.

“Xaden… I-, I´m gonna…” you whimper.

“That´s right, come for me, Little One.”

You cry out and dig your nails into his arms, coming on his fingers while letting out small moans.

“Oh my god,” you pant.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Alright good, ´cause I´m gonna fuck you now,” he unzips his pants.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” you lick your lips when you see how huge he really is.

“You scared?” he smirks.

“Never,” you say back.

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, making you whine when you feel him rub against you. He looks at you and you nod, telling him it´s okay. Then he slowly sinks into you, and you hiss in pain when he´s all the way in.

“Oh fuck, Little One, you’re so warm,” his voice shakes.

You whine when he starts moving.

“You´re doing so good, y/n. You can take it. That´s it. Good girl,” he praises, while increasing the movement of his hips.

Soon the pain has turned into pleasure, and you hold onto his back for dear life while he feverishly drives into you. You can feel him so freaking deep inside you, it feels amazing.

Suddenly in the middle of it all, you both stop and listen. Footsteps. Someone´s coming.

“Oh shit,” Xaden grabs you of the table and quickly carries you into the nearest room with a door, which happens to be a cleaning scrub.

He sets you down and then manages to get your clothes inside as well just before the room to the gym opens.

You both stare at each other, not making a single noise. Shit.

Someone´s walking around out there, probably searching for who was in the gym this late.

You look at Xaden and sees he has a devilish grin on his face.

“What?”

But he just smirks and lifts you up, pushes you against the wall and fills you up again.

“Fu-,” Xaden slams a hand over your mouth.

“Shhh, Little One,” he hushes and drives into you harder.

You feel your second orgasm building, and you grip onto Xaden to tell him.

“I know, y/n. That´s it. Come on my cock,” he whispers, making you come undone.

You can´t stop yourself from moaning out loud, and Xaden presses his hand hard against your mouth to stifle your sounds. A few seconds later you feel him spill inside of you while he groans in your ear.

You rest your foreheads against each other, panting, sweating and smiling.

You sniff the air feel a whiff of… smoke? You look to the left and see a black spot on the floor where you could´ve sworn there had been a wooden stool.

“Was that…?” you start.

“Yup, guess we know what your signet is now,” Xaden says and laughs.

#fourth wing #books #xaden riorson #fanfiction #fantasy #writing #x reader

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lualuabestningdungie · 1 year ago

Text

“Accidents happen” | Huening Kai

Pairing gn!reader x bestfriend’sbrother!hyuka; genre fluff; warnings mentions of kissing, reader wears lipstick; wc 500

The music coming from the speakers was so loud you could barely listen to your friends talking. Moving closer to your ear so you could hear what they’re saying.

You gave up on trying to follow the conversation, you just nodded pretending to understand.

Just when you were about to leave to get another drink, someone talks in your ear. It caught you off guard making you turn to face this person once you felt their lips brushing your ear.

“Yn, Hiyyih is lookin-“

It might be a very specific accident because you never imagined this could actually happen.

When you turned your head to face them, your lips brushed their soft ones. At the feeling of this you took the biggest step back feeling shocked and embarrassed. Even though your lips touched for a second, you could still feel it in your lips.

Huening Kai looked at you with his hand covering his mouth, he was also a little shocked and his cheeks were burning red.

“I’m sorry!” You said. You could’ve just laughed it off and try to make it less awkward, but you ran away leaving him standing there in the middle of the party.

You walked outside to the garden, the moment still vivid in your mind. Your heart beating fast as you try to calm down, resting your arms on a stone railing.

“If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked, you know?”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice next to you. His back leaned on the stone railing as he looked down at you with a smirk on his lips.

This was his attempt to be flirty with you. But on the inside he was freaking out. Huening Kai has like you for years, but liking his sister’s best friend felt wrong to him.

You’ve liked Kai since you entered high school. Before that, you didn’t really interact with each other, just small conversations and saying hi to each other in the hallways.

You turned to see him, his side profile glowing with the moonlight. Your cheeks were burning.

“It was an accident. You could’ve just tapped my shoulder.” You said turning again.

“Yeah, maybe i could’ve…” he said shrugging. “But this was more… interesting.”

He was shocked by his own words. It felt like he wasn’t the one speaking. Where was he getting all this courage from? He was normally a pretty shy person.

“It was embarrassing… everyone saw that.” You replied. You were feeling slightly anxious. Even if it wasn’t a kiss kiss, you still felt like it was something more relevant than just your lips brushing.

“You’re scared that Hiyyih might’ve seen it?” He asked, now turning to you.

“Yeah…" Hiyyih has alway been protective over her brother, she didn't want any girls close to him and would always scare them away. She was your best friend, and now you were crushing on her brother. "She's always been protective of you, you know?"

Huening Kai nodded. "I know. But she's not here right now. It's just you and me." Kai took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I've always wondered what it would be like...to kiss you.”

You were pretty sure you could hear your heartbeat even with all the music on the background. Your cheeks turned bright red as you looked away.

His hand moved to your chin making you look at him again. He moved closer, his face was now a few inches away from yours.

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded, your legs shaking and your mind went fuzzy.

His lips touched yours and you could feel him smile through the kiss. His lips were soft against yours, it was gentle and sweet.

It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was the only kiss you wanted to feel every day for the rest of your life.

When he pulled away his cheeks were pink. A silly smile on his face as he looked away slightly nervous. You noticed some of your lipstick was on his lips.

“You have some of my lipstick on your lip…” you said shyly.

He turned to face you again. “I’ll give it back to you then.” He smiled, as he pulled you in for another kiss.

Lua’s note: I’m having the biggest writer block ever. But I hope you enjoyed this 😔

#k films #tomorrow x together #choi beomgyu #choi soobin #kang taehyun #choi yeonjun #huening kai #lualuabestningdungie #fluff #fanfic #hueningkai x reader #txt huening kai

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alezangona · 1 year ago

Text

The Sweetest of Nights

My Submission for #varadevaloveday!

Deva squints through one eye, focusing on the sapota that hangs from the tree’s highest branch, slingshot pulled back and ready to disarm. He hesitates for a moment, tucking in his lips as he moves his hand just slightly lower to fix his position. Then, taking in a deep breath, he releases the shot.

The rock sails through the air, making its way to the mark, before missing it by a hair’s breadth. The rock tumbles to the ground joining its fellow fallen comrades in a small heap.

Deva curses, irritation passing across his features and he runs his fingers through his thick curls, wanting nothing more than to tug them out of his head as the humidity smothers his dwindling patience.

“Your curls are your money makers, idiot. Don’t go bald already, it’s bad for our reputation.” Deva huffs, turning around to look at his friend, unamused.

“You try to spend fifteen minutes failing to shoot down fruit in this weather and let me know how you fare.” Varadha just smiles at that, plucking the slingshot out of Deva’s hand. He picks up a stone from the ground, throwing it up and down as he tests the weight. Seeming satisfied with whatever result he was looking for, he loads it into the shot and aims up towards the top of the tree. Within the blink of an eye, the rock disappears from his grip and the sapota falls to the ground, only to be picked up by Varadha.

“Here!” He places it into Deva’s waiting hand.

Deva wants to look unaffected by it all. But seeing Varadha’s face breaking into a pleased grin at the thought of being able to do something that made Deva’s life easier stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t understand why that smile is so disarming, to the point that it has stopped his breath at times. Or why even just a hint of it makes him lose track of his thoughts, mind wandering instead to the flawless shape of Varadha’s lips that resemble the curve of Madhana’s bow. So, he looks down at the fruit in hand, peeling it as he tries to calm the pounding of his heart.

“Here.” He hands Varadha half of the fruit, looking up at him once more. Deva didn’t think it could be possible, but Varadha’s smile deepens further at the gesture and he pops the fruit into his mouth, eyes closing in pleasure as the sweetness of the taste overcomes the humidity of the summer day.

Nothing else needs to be said as they spend another hour among the grove, Varadha shooting and Deva peeling the fruits. Sometimes they’d stand together, watching as their mark would hit the ground. At other times, they’d sit under the shade, chewing leisurely as they discussed anything and everything, including how much they were annoyed by Rudra and his gang of miscreants.

“So…” Finally, Varadha turns towards Deva, wringing his sticky hands together. “My dad gave me money earlier today as a gift for doing well on last week’s exam. I was thinking, maybe you and I can use that today to go to the fair?”

“I thought you were trying to save up to buy that game?” Deva’s brows pull together as he studies Varadha. “Why the fair?”

Varadha shrugs, his long face turning off to the side. Once again, Deva is overcome by the sheer beauty of Varadha’s profile among the light of the setting sun that bounces off the greenery of the grove, to which he could find no other comparison but the intricate sculptures that lined temple walls.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow and I know your dad is going to be taking you and Amma out of town for a few days to celebrate. I just wanted to spend time with you before then.”

Warmth spreads through Deva’s body like wildfire at the statement. He knows how important that game is to Varadha considering it’s the first thing he will ever gift his brother Baachi. He’d been saving up for months to buy the Chaturanga set by Rakhi, hoping to teach his younger brother all the strategies the way his father taught him. Yet, he’s willing to put his goal aside for a second just to what? Celebrate Deva’s birthday?

“We don’t have to do that, Varadha.” Deva remarks as he nudges his shoulder, brimming with happiness at the implication of Varadha caring about him. For a second, Varadha’s face falls and his hand comes to scratch against the back of his neck.

“You have other plans then for tonight?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Deva tilts his head, gazing rather fondly at his friend. It always amused him how Varadha seemed to be the smartest boy he knew, yet the dumbest at the same time. Charming. “I’m saying that I don’t need to be at a festival with you to enjoy my birthday. I’m just as happy here as I would be over there. What it ends up coming down to is you, ra. There’s no need to go around doing something like wasting your money on me when you should be saving it up for Baachi.”

“You’re so thick-skulled sometimes.” Varadha shoves his shoulders, sending Deva tumbling towards the roots before springing back to his original place. “I’m asking because I want to do this with you, asshole. So, can we just go and celebrate before you disappear for an entire week?”

Deva couldn’t possibly say no.

~*~

“It’s your birthday, Deva. I’m pretty sure I should be getting you something, not the other way around.” Varadha huffs as he tries to settle the giant toy Deva won him somewhere across his shoulders. Deva refuses to hold back his laughter at the sight of the big, orange monkey draped colorfully across the black canvas of Varadha’s lanky frame. At the sight of the laughter, Varadha replies with a playful push against his arm, almost toppling over when he forgets to balance out the extra weight of the stuffed animal.

Deva catches him in the nick of time, pulling with slightly too much power that it brings him and Varadha chest-to-chest, so close that he could make out the fading details of a dark mark on Varadha’s cheek. He swallows tightly, not understanding the sudden constriction of his chest as Varadha’s gaze meets his, so open and tender, despite the annoying primate dangling behind him.

“Learn how to be careful will you? I won’t always be around to catch you, you clutz.” Deva means for it to sound firm, but is almost embarrassed by how breathy it comes out of him. Varadha doesn’t seem to notice however as he steps away with a roll of his eyes.

“Please, there isn’t anything we could fight about that would break us up like that.” Finally, he ties the legs of the animal around his waist, a triumphant gleam in his eyes when it stays in place. “Hell yeah! Finally figured it out!”

“You know you also could’ve given it away or left it on the streets? It’s just a toy.” Deva laughs, catching up to him again.

“Are you insane? It’s mine now. I’m not parting from it for all the gold in the world.”

They spend the rest of the night aimlessly wandering around the festival. Sometimes they play the games set up by vendors, winning too many prizes by the end of it all, that they end up giving them away to the smaller kids around them. They go up to the food stalls, ordering chaat and sharing it as they watch people go by, idly commenting on what must be going on in each of their lives. They hop on the roller coaster, pendulum, and wipeout in quick succession, taking a moment to soothe their stomachs by riding in a swan boat across the small pond.

Finally as the night draws to an end, Varadha tugs a pleasantly tired Deva along to grab a bag of cotton candy that he insists they eat on the Ferris Wheel where they can get the best view of Khansar. They walk through the crowds of people, under the glowing canopy of lights, dragging the monkey and bag of cotton candy behind them as they make their way towards the giant circle that looms over the festival. To Varadha, it looks like it could almost be as big as his Shiva Mannar’s court. Though, that might just be because of the balmy buzz that was overtaking him this night as he spends time in Deva’s presence.

He hadn’t let Deva know, but Varadha has been on edge for days now as the family trip approaches. It’s selfish of him to want Deva near him at all times when he knows how much Deva looks forward to the outings since Dhaara is a busy man and can only spend so much time with his family. But when he is able to make time, he takes them to some of the most beautiful locations across the world.

During a dinner at his home one night, Deva expressed his favorite place so far had been the Channakeshava temple in Belur, where he claimed the intricacy of the sculptures was so mesmerizing that he felt as if his eyes weren’t enough to take in the beauty. Dhaara meanwhile, explained to Varadha with pride how the temple took three generations, over the span of a hundred years, to be built, and despite how many times it was pillaged and plundered, it was repeatedly rebuilt and repaired and has lasted to this day.

Then, Dhaara looked at Varadha, really looked at him, stating the history of the temple wasn’t quite so different from that of Khansar. That the beauty of this city too, came not only from its foundation but its ability to grow and thrive despite the toils it faced during its history. There was something about the conviction in his tone that shook Varadha to the core and he could suddenly understand why his grandfather had such a soft spot for this man. Then Dhaara’s demeanor changed and he was back to being a jovial man who’s charming nature was enough to light up the dim room they were sitting in.

That night, as Deva walked him home, he handed him a picture he had taken of one of the sculptures with a shrug, stating how he didn’t have to take it. It was just something he saw that reminded him of Varadha.

To this date, the picture was taped to the wall in his room, above his desk. Sometimes he’d catch himself looking at it as he finished his homework, wondering what exactly Deva noticed about it that reminded him of Varadha. In the end, all he could make out was a stunning sculpture with a sweet smile.

Still, the small picture and the never ending trinkets lined up beneath it, always brought with them a deep sense of euphoria because it seemed that Deva too would think of him when he was away. It wasn’t just Varadha waiting for his return.

It won’t be till years later, during Deva’s absence, that Varadha will come to understand his feelings. It won’t be till then that he realizes that he didn’t just love his dear friend, but that he was in love with him.

But for this night, he tried to set aside his anxiety surrounding Deva’s departure and let a glowing smile light his lips as they sat across from each other in the small compartment of the wheel, their knees brushing against each other. As they passed from point to point, they’d gaze out of their cart, letting the sweet candy melt against their tongues as they took in the bright lights of the city.

“Thank you for this,” Deva murmurs once they get high enough that the sounds of the festival begin to dim. “I had a lot of fun.” Varadha shakes his head at him, getting up from his seat and plastering himself next to Deva instead.

“I feel like I remember telling you before that there’s no need for please and thank you between friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. But still. It’s been a lot of fun and I know it’s dumb to say since it’ll only be a week, but I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”

Varadha doesn’t know how to answer, so he throws an arm against Deva’s shoulder and pulls him in closer.

“I guess we’re both dumb then because I’ll miss you too.” At that, one of Deva’s arms comes up behind him, wrapping across his torso. They rest their heads against each other, young minds not being able to put a name to the feeling expanding between them, but content to be in each other’s company without seeking an answer.

A clanging sound interrupts them and they pull apart in time to see the distant clock tower striking midnight, their cart coming to a stop at the top-most point.

“Shit, Amma’s gonna kill me.” Deva shoots up in his seat, panic shutting off his ability to think. He can’t believe he didn’t notice just how much time had passed.

“Rey!” Varadha grabs his arm and pulls him down when the cart begins to swing from the momentum. “Sit down will you! What are you going to do? Jump off?”

“I don’t know! Maybe.” Deva groans, burrying his face in his hands. “I already got in trouble last week for going home late after we went to the movies. She’s going to murder me, ra.”

“Don’t worry,” Varadha peels his hands off his face. “I already talked to her and got permission to keep you out late today. She won’t kill you, not for this.” The tension melts off of Deva’s face, only for confusion to take over in its stead.

“This late? Why?”

“Na potti bangaram kosam (For my short gold). Happy birthday, ra.” Varadha playfully pinches Deva’s cheek and laughs when he shoves him away, face souring. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a short necklace, handing it over to Deva who observes the square pendant hanging from a black thread. “My mom helped me find it, she said it’s a charm for good luck. I just thought it looked cool.” Varadha shrugs, trying not to make it seem like too big of a deal.

Deva just swallows, looking intently at the silver pendant resting in his palm. It makes Varadha nervous enough that he grabs it out of his hand and pulls it over Deva’s head.

“See! It looks great on you!” Varadha beams at the choker lying at the dip of Deva’s neck. “Mannarsi craftsmanship is unbeatable you know?”

“I beg to differ,” Deva says immediately, but then his voice softens noticeably. “But yeah, this gift is hard to beat.”

~*~

When they walk home that night, it’s in anything but silence. Varadha shares the story of how he happened upon the necklace and thought it’d be perfect for Deva considering how he keeps ending up in dangerous situations. Deva defends himself saying that he only gets roped into those things because of Varadha, to which he can’t argue. The words keep drifting from their lips even as they approach the intersection where they need to separate to get home. Yet, they stand at the street corner, bringing up the most redundant of tales in an effort to make the night last longer.

Finally, they pull themselves into a bone-crushing hug, clinging to each other as the cool breeze brushes against them.

Unable to part just yet, they stay there for a while longer, letting time pass them by under the midnight sky.

~*~

Author's Note:

So sorry for the late post! Really tried to get it out by Valentine's Day but I was traveling and kept falling asleep as I wrote. But I've been having so much fun getting to see everyone else's work! Love the talent in this fandom!

A huge thank you to @rambheem-is-real and @deadloverscity for hosting this event!

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #khansar #varadevaloveday #childhood

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