#Well he's eyeing your stockings - Promotions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javiscigarette · 1 year ago

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Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around.

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit.

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes.

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go.

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout.

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal.

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride.

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him.

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.”

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match.

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him.

“You’re so pretty, baby”

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs.

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight.

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind.

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you.

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point.

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you.

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process.

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks.

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath.

He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch.

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you.

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip.

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock.

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his.

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust.

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth.

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty.

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back.

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work.

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back.

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first.

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.”

—

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest.

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure.

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest.

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise.

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck.

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls, his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him.

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.”

—

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge.

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now.

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile.

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants.

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye.

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking.

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house.

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him.

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion.

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist. Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days.

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control.

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily.

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight.

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter.

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare.

“What was the plan there?” Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack.

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe.

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next.

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it.

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you.

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier.

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot.

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans.

He wants more.

“Faster.”

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did.

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that.

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down.

Joel of course isn’t any help.

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself”

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him.

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.”

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well. He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits.

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack.

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up.

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty.

“And what if I wanted dessert?”

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.”

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up.

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side.

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition.

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him,

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute.

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you.

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention.

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him.

Still nothing.

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it.

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence.

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair.

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest.

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside.

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet.

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-”

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response.

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls.

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp.

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?”

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess. And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy”

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling.

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again.

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing.

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly.

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off.

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so.

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation.

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either.

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least.

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes.

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response.

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button.

“And for dressing me up”

Another button.

“Making me feel so beautiful”

And another.

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting.

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper.

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip.

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer.

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure.

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need.

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.”

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after.

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them.

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Turn around” he instructs simply.

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress.

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself.

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect.

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up.

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure.

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases.

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline.

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel”

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained”

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm.

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?”

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat”

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag.

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.”

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it.

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips.

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes.

“Bein’ so good for me.”

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip.

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue.

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions.

“Swallow it.”

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements.

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle.

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Good girl. Now stand up.”

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs.

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement.

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs.

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly.

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago.

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house.

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips.

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening.

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing.

“Wanna hear you beg for it.”

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen.

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch.

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad”

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still.

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want”

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you.

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-”

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you.

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that.

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed.

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.”

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away.

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean.

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him.

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his.

And it’s exactly what you asked for.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling.

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya”

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric.

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?”

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer.

“Red” you whine.

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?”

You immediately shake your head

“No.”

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace.

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off.

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that”

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices.

“Get those tits out, angel.”

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops.

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him.

“Play with ‘em for me.”

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper.

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time.

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him. “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?”

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that.

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead.

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.”

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress.

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.”

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock”

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him.

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven.

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm.

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good”

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills.

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull.

Joel turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now.

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too.

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?”

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?”

“Mhmm.”

You grin and scoot closer into him.

“That sounds like a lot to handle”

You squeal when he pinches your hip.

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again.

Thank god you got that promotion.

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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circus4apsycho8 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, I hope you are doing well!! I was wondering if you could write a ninjago Cole x reader where the reader is the teams medic. Cole, being the muscle of the team, usually gets hurt a lot and the medic has to patch him a lot on and off the field. They grow closer and close and eventually become an established relationship. Angst, smut, fluff, whatever, full creative freedom! Love your writing!!

Hey, thank you very much! Love this request! I will be making this a 2-3 part series. One of the next chapters will feature a second related request, I believe. Originally I was going to publish it all at once, but then I decided to break it up a little bit. Also, not sure how accurate the wounds and whatnot are, but I tried :v Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: stab wounds, cussing, mild gore descriptions

Word Count: 11.9k

Masterlist for this Fic

knife to meet you. | cole x reader | chapter i

The clock is going to drive you insane.

Tick after tick, the hands click on, your sanity diminishing with each passing second. For the millionth time tonight, you rip your gaze from the dragging hands of the clock. Not even three minutes had passed since you’d last checked the time. A frustrated sigh tumbles from your lips, eyes venturing down to stare at the tea supplies scattered about the table before you.

“Stop looking at it,” you grumble to yourself, returning your hands to your task - bagging tea leaves and ingredients to assemble Mystake’s latest recipe. Her new tea is set to launch tomorrow, and she could be a stickler for keeping fully stocked shelves. The thought makes you sigh, knowing you’ll certainly be busy in the morning. Perhaps the promotion would make the day go by faster.

The repetitive motions of your hands eventually allow your mind to shift into autopilot mode, hands running on muscle memory as you wonder how much longer you would be here for - you’d come a long way since training as her apprentice, and by helping her with the shop, she allowed you to live with her rent free.

And while you’re forever grateful for Mystake’s kindness, you know this isn’t what destiny has planned for you. Running a tea shop was her dream, not yours. Deep within your heart, you feel yourself growing antsy. You wouldn’t thrive here, and a part of you wonders if you’ll end up stuck here.

The bell above the door chimes, snapping your body out of autopilot and into customer service mode. The smile plastered on your face masks the annoyance at having to serve someone so late. Who even thinks to buy tea this late at night?

You hop off of the stool. “Good evening! How can I-”

The sight before you jerks your body out of autopilot, a horrified expression overcoming you as your eyes process the scene in front of you:

Three men dressed in gis stand before you, two of them supporting a man in a black gi - his head is drooped, and he’s limp. His arms are strung around the necks and shoulders of two men on either side - one dressed in red and the other blue.

“Please,” grunts the one in blue. “We need help!”

“He’s been stabbed, and we didn’t know where else to go,” adds the red one, both looking at you with desperate faces. “You can treat wounds, right?”

For a moment, you freeze. Mystake isn’t here, and she always takes care of these things. You’ve only ever observed or helped with guidance. She certainly wouldn’t make it back in time to help.

What would she say right now?

...She’d tell me not to freeze. Just work and do what you were trained to do. Make a decision.

You snap out of your stupor, realizing that you’re on your own. This man needs help now, and you know you’ll never become a healer if you don’t start doing things on your own.

So, you force yourself to swallow your fear. “Okay. Take him in the back; take a right, then enter the second doorway on the left. I’ll be right there.”

The two oblige without question, immediately making their way to the back of the store. After making your way to the front, you lock the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’. Next, you jog behind the counter, swiping the emergency medical kit you always had stocked. On your way to the room, you swipe a certain tea you know you’ll need later.

With almost everything you need in hand, you hurry through the maze of tea shelves and doors until you arrive in the medical room.

The two men have lowered their friend on top of the bed, with the red one pressing down on his abdomen. Blood cakes the lower parts of his arms, eyes wide with fear as he holds the pressure.

“The blood…it’s not stopping,” the brunet drawls, tensing as he stares at the wound.

“Here, let me,” you state, immediately coming to take over. He relents, stepping off to the side. “I need you guys to grab me a few towels. They’re in the cabinet to the right.”

They nod, rushing to gather what you need. You’re quick to start applying pressure to the wound, face twisting in determination as you hold the fabric in place. The stabbed man grunts, hissing as he tosses his head back in pain. Normally a reaction like this would scare you, but you’re too hopped up on adrenaline to care at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I know this hurts like hell, but I have to get the bleeding to stop,” you sympathize, eyes still trained on his wound. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the blue one frozen at the side. Looks like he could use something else to focus on. “Hey, blue guy. Can you start steeping that tea bag over there? I know it’s an odd request at such a time, but just trust me.”

“Tea bag? Y-Yeah, I’m on it.” Thankfully, this snaps him out his stupor and gets his hands busy.

You note that the red one looks antsy too. A glance at the injured man’s tattered top gives you an idea for another task.

“And could you get his top off, please? I need to make sure he wasn’t hit anywhere else this badly.”

“Yeah. Yeah…okay. I can do that,” he replies, eyes lingering over the blood momentarily before he snaps himself out of his stupor. His hands fumble to his belt, where he slips out a small, silver shuriken.

You shuffle out of his way as best you can without hindering your progress on the wound, watching as the shuriken slices through the fabric. Mr. Red Guy gently pulls the sides off and out of your way, allowing it to drape over the sides of the table.

After thanking him, you quickly scan the rest of the stabbed man’s torso. There are a few bruises and cuts, but the stab wound seems to be the brunt of the damage.

From there, the room falls quiet save for his pained grunts.

“Fuck,” he curses, voice taut. “How...how’s it looking?”

“You’re gonna pull through, man,” replies the red one, his voice coming out stronger than he looks. “She’s got the blood loss slowing down.”

The blue one, on the other hand, doesn’t sound as put together. His voice is shaky and his eyes are glassy, but you can tell he’s trying to sound optimistic. “Yeah, Cole, you’re going to be just fine.”

“How’s the tea looking?” you inquire, trying to distract him from whatever’s making him upset. You need everyone to remain calm until the bleeding has stopped.

“I think it’s ready. Do you need it?”

“Yes, please,” you reply. “Have him drink as much as he can, even if it’s only a few sips. It should ease the pain a little bit and help prevent infection.”

The redhead nods, going to prop his friend’s head up while the other holds the teacup for him. You listen as they speak softly to him, words too quiet for you to hear.

It takes you a minute, but thankfully you’re able to get the bleeding to stop. Soon enough, the wound is sterilized and bandaged properly with the man now unconscious on the table.

You find yourself absentmindedly cleaning the last bits of blood off of his torso, realizing that the three of you are all quietly processing the night together.

“Are you two okay?” you speak suddenly, shifting your gaze to them. “You’re not wounded, are you?”

“No, we’re okay. Just a little cut up and bruised, but nothing we can’t handle,” the spiky-haired brunet assures. “Thank you. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t helped us.”

“It’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help him,” you dismiss, smiling softly as you return your gaze to the task at hand. “Oh, and by the way…” You take a moment to introduce yourself. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice.”

“Only an apprentice?” the redhead wonders.

“I thought you were a master medic, what with the way you handled that. But yeah, I’m Kai, that’s Jay, and he’s Cole.”

You nod in acknowledgement, attempting to commit their names to memory. “Thank you. Well, I wish it was under better circumstances, but nonetheless it’s nice to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” Kai replies.

You debate your next question momentarily, but decide to just ask anyway. “And do you mind if I ask what happened? Stabbings are rare around here.”

“Well, I’d say you’ve more than earned an explanation for us barging in here with a dying man in the middle of the night, then handling it like a pro,” Jay interjects. “We were on a mission to investigate an incident of serial burglaries that had been occurring around a town close to this one.”

“Long story short, we find the guys, confront them, then things start to get heated,” Kai continues, staring off into the distance. “So, we start fighting, trying to apprehend and whatnot. Cole doesn’t draw his weapon yet because he’s pretty well-versed with hand-to-hand combat.”

“It was my fault,” Jay interrupts, eyes turning glassy again as he averts his gaze. “One of them tripped me up, and I caught sight of the knife they had. And I…I just froze. I don’t know why. But he pushed me out of the way just in time, and he took the hit in my place.”

“It’s not your fault, Jay,” Kai assures. “This was a rough job for us all. And it doesn’t help that Zane wasn’t here to help.”

“The important thing is that you’re all alive and healing,” you say, dumping another bloodied towel into a nearby bin. “And he’s going to be just fine.”

“I still can’t help but feel bad,” mumbles the redhead, your heart dropping slightly at the sight of his guilt-laced stare. “He shouldn’t have to look out for us when he already takes the brunt of the damage.”

Their words pique your interest, causing you to glance up with a puzzled expression. “So you guys do this a lot, then? Are you vigilantes or something?”

“We’re ninja,” Kai responds, gesturing to the symbols on both of their gis. “We recently finished our training with our master, and have been fighting to make Ninjago a safer place ever since.”

“Oh, I see!” you reply. That certainly explains the strange outfits and weapons. The conversation reminds you of a rumor you had heard from a few customers one day a few weeks ago. “You know, now that we’re talking about it, I had heard rumors about ninjas surfacing somewhere and taking out bad guys. I just didn’t think much of it considering nothing major has happened in our town since.”

Kai grins slightly at this, eyeing Jay with a small smirk. “Hey, sounds like we’re starting to make waves.”

“Waves? I think you’re giving us too much credit,” Jay notes, stifling a yawn.

“But it’s a start,” Kai adds, also yawning. The action makes you realize how late it is, knowing the two must be exhausted from the night’s events.

“Alright. It’s late, and he’s about as cleaned up as I can get him right now,” you comment. “If you two will just help me move him onto a stretcher, I can get him hooked up to an IV and then he’ll be set for the night. Mystake will want him to stay so we can monitor his vitals and ensure that the wound doesn’t become infected. You both are welcome to stay here while he’s recovering; we’ve got a spare room and extra clothes for times like these. Please, follow me.”

…

With Kai and Jay now settled in for the night, you find yourself preparing the IV for Cole in the recovery ward of the shop.

As your fingers work, you find your gaze drifting to the man before you. Now that he’s stable and your adrenaline rush has passed, you have time to observe him.

His gi had been black - that much you remember. Your eyes drift across his bare torso, noting that he has a few scars across his chest. His stature is muscular - seemingly more so than the other two.

You tear your gaze from him, double checking that everything is ready before taking his arm in your hands, flipping it over to find the right vein. Once you do, you insert the IV.

The action makes him stir, eyes opening slightly. Immediately, he tries to sit up, but your muscle memory kicks in just in time to push him back down.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” you say, holding him down gently. “You’re okay, but you need to rest.”

Thankfully, he settles, eyes relaxing slightly at your touch. Jaded green eyes study your figure as you gaze at him, watching to see if he’s going to try and get up again.

“Where am I?” he wonders, voice hoarse. “I barely remember what happened. Everything’s patchy for me...I remember that room, Kai and Jay were there...then I couldn’t stay awake anymore.”

“You’re at Mystake’s tea shop. This is our recovery ward. You were stabbed in a fight, and your friends brought you here. You’re all patched up now, but you need to rest so you can heal properly. Your friends are just in the other room.”

“Stabbed? Oh…it’s coming back to me now.” He groans, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop onto the pillow again. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, just sleeping now,” you assure.

It’s then you realize that you still have a hand on his chest. Your cheeks heat up as you snatch your hand away. “Oh stars, I’m sorry! It’s just been, well…a long night. I guess I’m just a bit distracted now that the action has passed.”

Cole chuckles, averting his gaze. He winces a bit, making his smile fade slightly. “You’re okay. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Your name is Cole, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You tell him your name, words stumbling out in a mix of your default introductory statement and the mush that is your mind at the moment. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice. It’s knife to meet you.”

Upon processing the phrase you’d added through your post-adrenaline exhaustion, your eyes widen. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, I-I did not mean to say that out loud! That was so inappropriate of me-”

“Wow,” Cole responds, shaking his head at you with a small grin. “You can’t just cut down the stab victim like that, doc.”

“I’m sorry!” you squeak before realizing that he, too, made a pun concerning his injury. “Wait...you’re not upset?”

“Of course not. You saved my life,” he replies, glancing back down at his wound. “And I appreciate your humor. I know the guys have been pretty down about the whole ordeal, so it’s nice to know that you can at least make light of it.”

“Oh,” you reply, not expecting that response at all. “Well...I’m glad that you’re okay with it. I see so much gore these days that I...” you trail off, realizing you shouldn’t be spilling your innermost thoughts to a patient.

You shake your head, nervously chuckling as you take a step back. “I’m rambling, sorry. Are you hurting right now? I can get you a bit more of our pain-killing tea. It might help you sleep, too.”

“That sounds great,” he replies. “Thank you.”

You nod, standing up. “I’ll be right back, then.”

With that, you make your way towards the kitchen. You get another cup of tea steeping, taking the down time to drink a bit of water and get a snack.

A few seconds after you finish, you hear the door to the tea shop opening. You peek your head out from the back, relief coursing through you when you see Mystake behind the counter.

“Thank the stars, you’re back!” you say, sighing as she turns to you.

“I am. You closed the shop early?” she inquires, hanging her hat up on its usual spot.

“Yes. Two people brought in a man who had been stabbed, and I had to treat it and I-” you trail off, the stress of the situation finally catching up to you as tears pool in your eyes.

Mystake sets her hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down. “A stabbing? Oh dearie…I know it’s scary, but you did the right thing. He’s stabilized now, yes?”

You nod as she takes your hands in hers, sniffling a bit. “Yeah. I was going to give him some of that pain-killing tea so he could sleep.”

“Very good, very good. Here, finish what you’re doing while I have a look.”

Your stomach twists, hands coming to fidget as you nod in response. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

With that, you’re left alone once more. Anxiety meshes with your post-adrenaline rush, leaving you lightheaded and nauseous. You can’t help but zone out for a bit, only jerked away from your thoughts when the water starts squealing.

The tea doesn’t take you long to prepare, and soon enough, you find yourself approaching the recovery ward once more.

The lights have been dimmed, causing you to wonder if he’s suffering a headache. You can still see well enough to notice that he’s still awake, though. Mystake is nowhere to be seen, meaning she must have finished her exam.

“Here, this should help,” you say, setting the tray on the table next to the bed. “It should be cooled enough to drink. Try to drink as much as you can.”

You hand him the cup, keeping an eye on his hands to make sure he doesn’t spill it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, hands seemingly steady enough for the time being. He takes a sip, face melting at the relief it must be bringing. “God, this stuff is magic. How does it kick in so fast?”

You shrug, smiling softly as he takes another sip. “I’m not sure. Mystake’s teas are incredible. She’s a master at her craft, that’s for sure.”

“Makes me wonder what else she can do with her teas,” he mumbles.

“You’d be surprised. She’s like a tea witch,” you reply with a chuckle. “Do you need anything else? Extra blankets, another pillow, snacks, water...?”

“I think I’m good for now,” he mumbles, sighing in relief. “This is already working wonders.”

“Okay. If you need anything at all, just push the button on the side of the nightstand. We’ll try to check on you shortly after sunrise. Try to get some sleep for now.”

“Being unconscious sounds great about now,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

You nod in response, smiling softly as you take the tray back into your hands, leaving the mug for him.

Just before you exit the recovery ward, though, his voice sounds once more:

"For the record, it was knife to meet you too.”

...

Mystake lets you sleep through the new tea launch, much to your relief. You don’t think you would have had nearly enough energy to deal with the rush today – not after all of last night’s excitement.

Once you rise, you stumble through your morning routine. Yawns rake your body as you attempt to wake up, brain foggy as you emerge from your room.

You can already hear customers chattering in the front, causing you to redirect to the kitchen. Through streams of unfamiliar voices, you can faintly hear Mystake’s voice vividly describing her newest creation. Looks like she’s doing just fine by herself so far. Which is great, considering you need a hot drink before you can even think about the public.

Upon arriving to your destination, muscle memory kicks in and you start working on your drink without thinking much about what you’re doing. Your hands work in quiet tandem, voice humming a tune while you listen to the distant voices of consumers and employees alike.

Once you’ve finished, you lean against the counter and take a sip.

Soft footsteps catch your attention, eyes drifting towards the entrance. Moments later, two groggy and disheveled ninja catch your attention.

“Morning,” greets Kai, hair frizzy and wild. Jay is in no better shape, eyes lined with circles as he offers a tired nod.

“Morning, guys,” you reply, setting your drink to the side. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Kai responds. You gesture for the two to have a seat, and they do. “Thanks. Is it okay if our Sensei drops by with our other teammate today?”

“Of course,” you assure. “What time will they be here?”

“Probably about an hour or so,” Kai answers.

Jay raises a notched eyebrow at this. “An hour? That’s...unusually quick for him, don’t you think?”

The brunet nods in agreement. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. Although he did say something about a smoke vision and needing to see something for himself.” Kai shrugs, running his fingers through his hair. “You know how he is. Cryptic and old.”

“A smoke vision?” Jay wonders. “Every time he has one of those, something big happens. What could it be this time?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say much about it, just that he needed to come see something in person. Who knows?”

“I just don’t get why a near-death experience would be something that triggers a vision,” Jay mumbles. “Oh well. His wisdom works in mysterious ways, I guess. It hasn’t failed us yet.”

Kai shrugs, not seeming too concerned about the ordeal. “Whatever it is, it’ll work out. Anyways, I’m starving. How about we make a breakfast run, huh? Let’s make it a race so we can get some blood pumping on our way there!”

You raise an eyebrow, chuckling nervously as the two start thrumming with an energy that wasn’t present last night. Maybe resting and seeing their patched-up teammate has brought it back? Then again, you don’t really know what’s normal for these guys either.

“You’re on!” Jay stands, a playful determination glinting in his eyes as he turns towards you. “Hey, what’s good around here?”

“There’s a small diner around the block that’s always good,” you note. “But you guys don’t have to-”

Jay makes an ‘ah-ah’ noise, shaking his head. “Nope. You saved our brother’s life, and for that you’re at least getting free breakfast.”

“And more upon request,” Kai adds with a flirty smirk and wink combo. You roll your eyes as he dodges a hit from Jay.

“Kai, you can’t just flirt with the doctor!” Jay admonishes, the two already zipping out of the kitchen. You try to follow them, but they’re flying out the door while yelling at each other.

All while going the wrong direction.

You sigh, chuckling to yourself as you shake your head. Oh well; they’ll figure it out. It certainly seems like they’ve got more than enough energy to spare today.

“What in the world are they so riled up about this morning?” Mystake wonders, staring at the entrance. It seems as if the initial customer rush is over for the morning, but there are still a few milling about and browsing.

“Breakfast, apparently,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m going to go check on Cole. I’ll be right back out to help.”

“Actually, I’ll need you for something else today. Pack your bags, dearie – I’ve got a job for you that requires traveling.”

“Traveling?” you wonder, turning towards your mentor. She merely flashes you an innocent smile – even though you’re sure it’s anything but.

“Yes. You’ve proven to me that you’re ready to start taking jobs on your own. So, we’re going to start trying them out if you’re okay with it.”

“Do you…do you really think I’m ready?” you wonder. “I know I was able to handle last night, but…”

“I do not think it is the disease, nor the injuries that scare you. It is the threat of change. You’ve been cooped up in my store too long, and now it’s time for you to work on your own more often.”

Her words strike you speechless momentarily. A change was what you’d wanted, right? More independence? More time to work on your own? But…this isn’t just any old job. It’s healing, and people’s lives are on the line. People’s lives are in your hands. Is that a responsibility you’re truly ready to take on?

A part of you wants to say no – to stay within the comfort of your routine, despite its repetitiveness. That way, you would always have help when you needed it. That way, you wouldn’t have to confront the daunting question of:

What comes next for me?

Mystake places her hand over yours, sensing your debate. “The leap into the unknown is always the hardest part, but it is one we all must conquer at some point. I know you’re scared – of making mistakes and determining what your next steps are. But that’s life. Mistakes are how we learn, my dear. Heck, that’s why I’m called Mystake!”

“But mistakes can get people killed,” you reply.

“They can. But you’re not trusting in yourself or your training enough. What happened yesterday is rare – in my lifetime, I’ve only treated a handful of stabbings. And most of the time, they weren’t as life-threatening as Cole’s was. You’re not giving yourself enough credit – you took action, followed your training, and saved a man’s life as a result. Look at it that way.”

You nod, watching as her steely eyes twinkle in a knowing fashion. “And truthfully…I don’t know what more I have to teach you. I truly think you’re at the point where experience will be your greatest teacher. Everything will work out for you; you just have to let it all fall into place. Before you know it, you’ll settle into your new normal without batting an eyelash over it. Because by then, it will feel right. And you’ll have been forever grateful that you took the leap.”

“Okay,” you reply, letting her words steep. “Okay, I understand.”

She smiles, setting a hand on your shoulder. “How about you take the day off from the store to think about it? Just tend to your patient and make sure his bandages stay clean. We can talk more about it later.”

“Alright,” you say, nodding in response. “Thank you, Mystake.”

With her words in mind, you set off to check on Cole.

…

Upon arriving, you note that Cole is already awake. Mystake must have dropped by this morning, because he’s reading a book you recognize from her prized collection. You take a moment to observe the way the strands of his dark hair fall around his face as he concentrates, eyes scouring the pages. It doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless, too – you’d been too exhausted last night to notice, but he’s nicely toned. To think you’d had your hand on his sternum, too…

You shake your head, reassuming your professional demeanor. No checking out the hot ninja patient!

“Good morning,” you greet, offering a demure smile as you gently shut the door. “How are you feeling, Cole?”

“Good morning. Definitely better today,” he answers, gingerly shutting the book and setting it to the side.

“I’m glad to hear it!” you chirp, noting that he’s also got a fresh mug of tea. “I’m going to have to check your wound quickly to make sure it’s not getting infected. I’ll get you some fresh bandages too. Our hope is that you’ll be back on your feet within the next two days or so.”

“Sounds great,” Cole replies. As you make your way towards the supply chest to the left of the room, he calls: “Going to make fun of me again?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me to make fun of you,” you retort, grinning as you pull out a set of clean gauze as well as a special type of antiseptic cleanser.

“It’s better than being tiptoed around, that’s for sure,” he says as you pull a rolling stool up next to him. You set your supplies on the nightstand next to him, pulling on a pair of gloves. The bands snap against your skin as you wiggle your fingers until they fit snugly inside.

“Your friends were just worried about you. Really worried,” you reply. “But they seem better today. Way more energetic, that’s for sure.”

Cole simpers, shaking his head lightly. “That’s good to hear. Speaking of which…where’d they run off to?”

“They’re grabbing breakfast,” you answer. It’s then notice that his wound is covered by the blankets, so you push them aside. Cole ends up bunching up the sheets, letting them rest over his middle. With the fabric now out of your way, you start peeling the gauze away.

“Alright, let’s see here…” you trail off, inspecting the wound. Everything looks okay so far – no signs of infection or reopening. Good. “Not infected. Seems to be on its way to healing. That’s good. We’re just going to clean it with an antiseptic and magic-infused solution. Its purpose is twofold: to prevent infection and speed up the healing process. It should help the cut fully close within a day or so.”

“Great,” Cole acknowledges, watching as you pour a bit onto a clean rag. The solution fizzes, emitting a faint, white light.

“Fair warning, it’s going to sting,” you advise, waiting for the glow to simmer down a bit.

“Then I may not be able to handle this.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help but smile as you look up at him. Grassy green eyes glimmer back at you playfully as you respond: “Now you’re just being a baby.”

“Do you call all of your patients babies?” he questions, grin faltering to a grimace as you start cleaning the wound. The liquid sizzles angrily against the wound, working its magic.

After letting it soak for a few seconds, you start wiping the excess off. “Well, considering you’re the first and only patient that I’ve fully tended to, yes.”

“I’m your first patient? That can’t be true,” he remarks, studying your hands as they rebandage his abdomen with fresh gauze.

“From start to end, you are. Mystake has let me practice on others before, but only on certain phases of their injury or illness. You’re the first person that I’ve both patched up and tended to during recovery. And all by myself, too.”

“Huh. I never would have guessed that from watching you work. You’re a natural.”

His words leave you speechless for a moment, cheeks warming as you finish rebandaging him. “Thank you; that’s sweet of you to say. I’ve still got a lot to learn, though.”

“But I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Give yourself some credit.”

Unsure of what to say, you smile at him in response. Cole returns your grin, pulling the blanket back over his torso. Somehow, the quiet between you two feels…fine. You know he doesn’t mind your lack of response. It’s comfortable; not forced.

You like that.

A moment later, you avert your gaze, fingers slipping underneath the bands of your gloves before pulling them off. “Well…I guess I’ll be back with something for you to eat soon. I imagine they won’t be much longer.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, doc.”

The nickname makes your heart stumble, but you’re able to play it off. “Absolutely.”

…

The ninja return soon enough – not only with breakfast, but with two unfamiliar people in tow. One appears to be around their age, dressed in a white gi while the other is an elderly man donning a bamboo staff and straw hat.

“Sorry we’re late!” Jay says as they file into the store. “We ran into our master and teammate on the way back and had to catch up.”

“That’s okay,” you assure, noticing that the two newcomers linger at the front. Kai and Jay, on the other hand, rush to the back. Knowing Mystake will greet them, you elect to follow Kai and Jay to the dining table.

“We realized halfway through ordering that we didn’t ask you what you wanted,” Kai admits, sheepishly grinning. “So…we just got a bunch of different stuff. Whatever you don’t want, Cole will eat. I assure you.”

“No worries,” you reply, watching as they unload the to-go bags. A mouthwatering scent floods the air, comprised of all kinds of breakfast foods. You note that they bought many more containers than you would have initially guessed, but factoring in the realization that ninjas probably eat more solves that puzzle. Just how much do these guys eat? “Have you two checked on him yet, by the way?”

“Yeah, we talked to him this shortly after we woke up,” Jay answers, spreading out a mound of wrapped, plastic to-go cutlery sets. Hungry hands are quick to snatch them up.

“Good. I just changed his bandages; I think he should be up and walking within the next day or so. We’ve just got to make sure the wound stays clean for now.”

“Do you think he could come sit with us if we help him?” Kai wonders. “Kinda sucks that he’s stuck by himself.”

You don’t answer immediately, taking a moment to ponder the decision. “Yes, he can. But we’ll need to use a wheelchair so we don’t risk reopening the wound. I’ll help too.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Cole is successfully relocated to the dining room. Kai makes you pick a container of food before shuffling the rest to Cole. Everyone settles in – including the two newcomers. Mystake remains in the front for the time being.

Kai starts off the conversation by introducing you, then the other two: “...this is Sensei Wu, and that’s Zane.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” you greet, flashing the two a smile.

“Likewise,” returns the snowy-haired ninja. He seems far calmer than his teammates, and sports a more sophisticated personality. “We are most grateful for your aid.”

“Why? All she did was stick a band aid on me and call me a baby,” Cole replies as everyone starts passing around food.

Kai and Jay snicker, both accepting their to-go containers of food with ravenous eyes. Zane’s eyes scrunch in confusion while their Sensei chuckles.

“Only a band aid?” the icy-eyed ninja wonders. “Perhaps I heard the details of your injury incorrectly-“

“It’s a joke, Zane,” Jay explains as he unwraps his to-go plasticware. “The injury was really bad, but she got it under control.”

“Did you actually call him a baby, though?” Kai wonders, eyeing you expectantly.

You find your cheeks warming again, with expectant eyes on you. “Uh…I did, yeah. But only because he said he wouldn’t be able to handle the sting of the antiseptic when he’d just survived a stabbing-“

At your explanation, Kai and Jay break down in a fit of laughter. Cole shakes his head with a grin, but the mood remains light. It’s such a stark contrast to last night’s atmosphere that you can’t help but giggle too.

You can see it in Kai and Jay’s eyes, too - Jay’s striking blue eyes are twinkling with mischief, making the bags under his eyes seem less prominent. Kai’s warm brown ones are tired too, but seeing his teammate recovered enough to make light of the situation seems to have alleviated the worry he’d been experiencing throughout the night.

And, when you look at him, you can see it in Cole’s, too – the way his vibrant, green eyes have almost brightened since you studied them last night. They had been faded and dull yesterday, but thankfully that’s no longer the case.

You avert your gaze before he can catch you staring, though, electing to focus on your food instead.

“Regardless of whether or not my pupil was acting like a baby, I’d still like to thank you,” interrupts the elderly man. You note how the ninja quiet down upon hearing him speak, glancing at each to see that they’ve given him their attention. “You saved my student’s life, and for that, we’re all eternally grateful.”

A chorus of agreements emanate from the ninja as the reality of the situation settles over the group. “Of course. We’re healers; it’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help.”

For a moment, it’s silent until Kai speaks up: “Oh, did you guys catch the last suspect? I know I managed to get two before the third slipped away.”

“Yes, we located him before we came here,” Zane answers. “He’s in custody now.”

Cole nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Good. I’m glad.”

The conversation turns towards the ninja’s training. While you don’t understand much of what they’re talking about, you’re able to chime in on occasion. They still manage to include you in the chat – namely when Jay suggests you could become a “ninja doctor”.

Which somehow turns into a debate about the conflicting nature of such a title – a ninja who could heal and hurt. It stuns you how the ninja are able to get so philosophical about something so silly.

“No, no, Kai, you’re missing the point. It’s like what Master Splinter said in the twenty-twelve version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Jay argues before quoting: “’Do no harm, unless you need to do harm. Then do lots of harm!’”

Kai narrows his eyes, pondering Jay’s claim momentarily. “So, by that logic, are we all healers, then? Because we don’t do harm unless we need to?”

“Kai’s right,” Cole agrees, starting on what must be his third box of food. “That’s too general to go by. But it is a fantastic quote, though. Sounds like something Master Wu would say.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jay frowns, trailing off. “But she could be like Donatello, though. He fights but also kind of serves as the team medic.”

“No, no, Donnie’s way smarter than I am,” you counter. “I can’t invent or do anything as scientific as he can.”

Jay shrugs. “But you don’t have to. You’d just heal one of us and then go smack someone up with a bo staff.”

This makes you all chuckle, and leads you to another thought: “Hey, do you guys realize how similar you are to the ninja turtles?”

A collective epiphany dawns on Kai, Jay, and Cole as they stare at each other, eyes widening.

“Woah,” Jay mumbles. “Wait, wait, guys she’s onto something!”

The redhead points at Sensei Wu, then trails his finger across the table. “Sensei…you’re basically Master Splinter. Cole’s our leader, so he’s Leo. Kai’s the hothead, which makes him Raph. I’m the funny and cute one, so naturally I’m Mikey. And Zane’s the brainiac, so he’s Donnie. And Nya’s kind of like April!”

A sound of awe emanates from three of the ninja, nodding their heads at Jay’s analysis. Poor Zane just seems lost.

“Are you comparing me to a giant, mutated rat man?” Sensei Wu questions, amusement laced in his gaze.

“So, you do watch modern TV!” Kai cries, pointing an accusatory finger at Wu. “See! I told you he was lying to us!”

From there, they start to laugh about Wu before comparing the villains they’ve fought to the ones that appear in the show. That’s when you’re not able to keep up as well.

Regardless, you roll with the flow of the discussion, surprised at how much you’re enjoying it. A few times, you catch Cole’s stare.

He never averts his gaze, or makes you feel embarrassed. Instead, he smiles.

You’re not sure that your heart is supposed to be beating so hard every time it happens, but you can’t help it. Even so, you ignore it.

…

Shortly after breakfast, the ninja wheel Cole back into the recovery ward. Zane remains momentarily to help you clean up before joining them.

“I hope they haven’t been too rowdy,” comes the voice of Sensei Wu.

You shake your head. “No, they’ve been great. They’re…fun, actually. I’ve enjoyed having them around.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been training them for a good while, but even now they can be a handful.”

The old man quiets momentarily, free hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Mystake tells me you’re considering new opportunities to practice your craft. Is this true?”

“Oh, um…yeah, it is. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do, but…yeah, definitely thinking about it.”

Sensei Wu nods in acknowledgement, eyes contemplative as he selects his next words: “I see. Well, I heard about how you handled Cole’s injury from Kai and Jay. If you’re interested, I’d like to offer you a position as our team’s medic.”

Your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, the unexpectedness of the proposition making your mind whirl. He wants you to become their official medic?

“What? Really?” you wonder. “But I don’t have any field experience yet! Cole is the first patient I’ve tended to from start to finish.”

“That’s all right. We’ve all got to start somewhere. The ninja themselves have only just finished their training and are now fighting together on their own. You’re similar to them in that regard. For all of you, experience will be your greatest teacher from now on.”

That sentence reminds you of what Mystake said earlier – about experience. It dawns on you that they’re absolutely right – you’re never going to get better by letting your fear win. You have to break the confines of comfortability and get out there.

Then, a question occurs to you: did Mystake know about this? Is this the job that she was talking about earlier – the one you were supposed to pack for? You’d have to ask her later.

“And if you like, we could even try out, say…a trial. You could come work with us for a few weeks and see how you like it. If it’s not what you’re looking for, then you won’t have to commit.”

“I…like the sound of that, actually,” you admit. “So…how would that work?”

“You’d stay at my monastery. Depending on the circumstances, you might travel with the ninja for missions that are riskier or farther away. Of course, you won’t ever get close enough to be in danger. If you like, we could even have you trained to help design our missions. Kai’s sister handles a decent portion of the mission planning, but a fresh set of eyes always helps.”

You like the sound of that. Traveling? Learning new skills? Working alongside the ninja? Just imagining the variety presented by the job gets you excited!

“Sounds dynamic and fun – which is exactly what I’m looking for. Let’s try it out,” you reply, offering your hand.

The old man grins, shaking your hand. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

…

A few hours pass, with the ninja and Wu slinking back to the recovery ward. You take an hour or so for yourself, hanging out in your room while thinking about what you’d take for your trial run with the ninja. After much debate, you manage to get what you need packed while leaving out enough items for the day or so it’d take Cole to get back on his feet. Mystake’s healing antiseptic works wonders, so you know it’s simply a matter of time.

You wind up feeling too antsy to settle down, so you insist on taking over for Mystake while she takes a lunch break.

Thankfully, the main rush is over for the day. Once the last few customers pour out of the store, you decide to start restocking. A soft hum sounds from your lips as you climb a stepstool, a box of tea tucked underneath your arm as you make sure to maintain your balance.

While you work, a soft whistling tune drifts from the hallway, accompanied by heavy footsteps. When they approach the entrance to the shop, you turn your head.

Kai stands there, checking the shelves with scrutinizing eyes. You huff a silent laugh, wondering what’s he looking for.

“Need something?” you wonder, stepping down from the ladder.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you,” Kai notes, pivoting around to face you. “Yeah, Mystake was asking for me to grab some kind of tea. Reme-tea, I think she said?”

You nod, gesturing for him to follow you towards the back. “I know what you’re talking about. Follow me.”

“Are all of her teas named with puns?” he inquires.

“A lot of them are. She thinks she’s funny,” you mumble, rolling your eyes affectionately. “But she names others a little more artistically.”

“That explains a lot of what Master Wu drinks. He must shop here a lot.”

“I can’t remember if I’ve seen him here before,” you admit, stopping when you reach the correct shelf. You rummage through the tea, frowning upon realizing the shelf needs to be reorganized. “I’ve served so many customers that their faces might as well be a blur to me – especially since a lot of them come during the early hours.”

“I get that. I used to work at my parent’s blacksmith shop with my sister. Can’t say I miss the work; it got way too repetitive and bland for our taste. I can’t smith to save my life. It was a miracle that we made enough to scrape by.”

“Blacksmithing, huh? Sounds hard,” you sympathize, glad that someone else understands the pains of customer service. Even so, you wonder why his parents wouldn’t help them out. Knowing that might be a sensitive topic, you elect not to pry.

“Yeah, suffice to say it…wasn’t for us. I’m glad Sensei Wu found us when he did.” He pauses momentarily as you move your search to a different shelf, wondering where in the hell Mystake moved the Reme-tea. “But that reminds me…Sensei said you’d be staying with us to test out a work opportunity.”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been dying to get out of here, honestly. I’m just kind of scared to get out in the field, but…you know. I won’t find out until I do it.”

The brunet nods, turning to glance over the other shelves in an effort to help your search. “I know the feeling.”

“You were nervous to become a ninja?” you respond.

“Yeah, I was scared, but…I didn’t really have a choice. My sister was kidnapped by a group of Garmadon’s goons who’d come to our village. If Sensei hadn’t saved me, I would have been a goner…but they still got away with her. I had to change because she needed my help. So…I swallowed my fear and just worked. I didn’t give myself a chance to think about it. I went with Wu and didn’t look back.”

You gasp at the story, frowning. “I’m so sorry…that must have been horrific. I can’t imagine…”

Kai shrugs, smiling softly. You finally find the tea you’re looking for, reaching to grab it.

“It was scary at the time. But Nya’s tough, and she ended up being just fine. We saved her, introduced her to the team, and…well, we’ve all stuck together since. I dunno, I guess things just kind of…fell into place for us.”

You nod, curious at the mention of his sister. “I’m glad to hear that’s she okay. How do you guys like being ninja?”

“Honestly…” Kai trails off, seemingly searching for words as the two of you linger in the back. “At first, I was only doing it so I could rescue her. But…after we got her back, the thought of returning to the shop just…filled me with dread. I knew I couldn’t go back to the way I was living. Being a ninja is way more fulfilling for me. We get to travel, meet new people from all over Ninjago, fly on our dragons, fight for the greater good…and that’s all I need.”

“Wow. That sounds…perfect,” you mumble, mulling over his words.

He nods in agreement. “It really is. I think you’ll like working with us. My sister’s going to love you; as well as we all get along, I think she gets sick of us sometimes. But you’ll know for sure after a week or so. Though, you never know – you might get sick of us.”

You snicker at this, shaking your head. “I won’t get sick of you. Honestly…it’s been nice having you guys around, even for such a short time. I’ve never felt so…”

“Engaged? Not in a haze of repetition?” he finishes with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah,” you say.

“That’s how I felt too, working with the guys for the first time. It’s safe to say that’s a good sign.”

You nod, the two of you walking back towards the hallway. Once you’re there, you hand him the tea box. “I think so too.”

Kai smirks, thanking you before starting back towards the recovery ward. On his way back, he calls:

“Besides…how else are you going to keep making fun of Cole?”

…

The day passes with you dining alongside the ninja again – this time with Mystake. You notice that she’s uncharacteristically quiet through the event, causing you to make a mental note to ask her about it later.

Cole’s injury is healing faster than you’d thought it would. Mystake’s antiseptic solution combined with a new tea made for a speedy recovery. At this rate, he’d be up and walking come tomorrow.

As such, the team is preparing to leave. Watching them restlessly discuss what they’d do when they return made you realize your time in the tea shop is drawing to a close.

And it simultaneously excites and terrifies you.

While you lay in bed that night, you wonder if this is how Kai felt when he left to become a ninja. He had said he’d been scared. Somehow, that comforts you. Even someone as confident as him got scared too.

Late into the night, though, your mind gets tired of worrying. Instead, you decide to get excited about trying something new.

That thought makes you smile as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

…

It seems like you’d only been asleep for minutes when you jolt awake to the vibration of…something. It rocks the building, making your eyes widen. Was that an earthquake?!

Another one shakes the shop, this time accompanied by…a roar? Your heart races at the noise, wondering what it could be. Especially at this hour – a glance outside tells you that it’s either very late or extremely early.

Chills erupt across your skin as you exit your room, eyes searching for potential source as you make your way towards the front. It must have come from outside.

Even before you open the door, you can hear voices outside. They don’t sound panicked at all, which makes you feel somewhat better as you push the door open.

Immediately, you’re met with the crisp, morning breeze. It makes you shiver, wishing you’d thought to bring a jacket out beforehand. The sky is still dark and riddled with stars, leaving you to wonder what time it is. Regardless, you press on, looking up to see Kai, who is facing the alley and speaking lowly to something. A strange, red glow illuminates his figure.

Cole, Jay, and Zane are towards the left side of the shop, all speaking quietly amongst themselves. Cole is back on his feet and seems to be doing okay. Even though it’s early, a sense of restlessness courses about the four. They must be ready to get back into action.

Deciding that you’ve stared enough, you make your presence known. “Guys? Is everything okay?”

The brunet is the only one to hear you, holding one of his arms out towards the alleyway. “Hey, morning. Sorry, did we wake you?”

You shake your head, stepping a bit closer. “No, I just...heard something.”

“Yeah...about that,” Kai lowers the hand that he’d held to the alleyway. “Those noises were our dragons. Sorry, we probably should have warned you guys beforehand. It just didn’t cross our mind.”

“Dragons?” you repeat, glancing into the alley. “You guys have-”

A pair of vibrant, neon orange eyes stare at you from the darkness, making you freeze. Out from the alley creeps a dragon.

A growl rolls from its throat as it studies you, its red head flecked with streaks of orange. Unfurling from its sides are a pair of brilliant red wings that exude a warm, red light. Its underbelly is protected by many rows of thick, orange bands that contrast against the darkened red scales of its body. Beneath the bands, you can see red patches swirling with energy.

You take a step back, seeing Kai’s arm swing out in front of you when the dragon steps towards you. It snarls again, giving you a mean glare.

“Stop being an asshole,” Kai scolds, stepping up to the beast while glaring at it. It lowers its snout, allowing Kai to pet it. “It’s okay, boy. She’s a friend.”

“You...have a dragon?” you question incredulously, heart racing as you study the creature. Its – his? - eyes flutter shut at Kai’s touch, wings furling in so that he doesn’t appear as massive.

“Yep. We all do,” Kai replies, gesturing behind you. You spin tentatively, breath hitching as you see three more accompanying each of the ninja.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, anxiety snowballing into excitement as you take your time studying each of them. “They’re...they’re beautiful. I never thought that I’d get to see one in person...”

“Wanna pet him?” Kai offers, hand lingering on his dragon’s neck. “Though, fair warning, everyone else except me says that he’s hot to the touch. Not hot enough to burn yourself, but hotter than you’d expect.”

You nod in acknowledgement, cautiously lifting your hand. The dragon doesn’t flinch, trusting in his master as you gently place your hand flat against his snout. A grumble rumbles throughout his body, seemingly okay with your touch. Through your legs, you can feel the vibrations of the growl. This has to be what woke you up.

“Wow...” you say, noting that Kai was right – the scales are burning up. It’s almost like they’re containing a full-on wildfire underneath. “Why’s he so hot?”

“He’s a fire dragon. He was guarding the Sword of Fire when we found him,” Kai explains, smiling softly as he strokes the side of the dragon’s snout. “Same story with the others and their weapons. We realized we needed to fight alongside them, not against them.”

“Did you guys name them?” you wonder, glancing back at Kai.

“Yeah. Flame.”

“Hi, Flame,” you mumble, smiling at the dragon. He huffs softly in response, small columns of smoke puffing from his nostrils. You feel like you’re standing in front of a bonfire; you don’t have to be terribly close to experience the warmth emanating from his body. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kai chuckles, taking his hand off of Flame. “He likes you.”

“I...I’m at a loss for words. This is the coolest thing ever...” you trail off, slowly taking your hand off of Flame as well. The fire dragon shifts so that he’s laying down, snout dropping to rest on the grass. You're reminded of a sleepy puppy.

Jay’s is the next dragon you greet.

“Meet Wisp!” Jay introduces, telling your name to the dragon even though he can’t talk. Wisp tilts his head, curiosity flashing in his electric eyes. This dragon is a gorgeous shade of blue, built similarly to Flame with one exception. If you had to guess, you’d say that Wisp is sleeker – made for speed. Wisp also appears to be friendlier than Flame.

“Wisp. That’s an adorable name,” you compliment, smiling as you approach the dragon. “Hello, Wisp!”

You tentatively reach your hand out, giggling when Wisp bumps his forehead against the palm of your hand, eager to be pet. Jay grins at the interaction.

Unlike Flame, you swear Wisp’s scales are tingling with underlying magic. Electricity tickles your skin, making you pull away from the dragon with a giggle.

“He’s tickly, isn’t he? Poor guy can’t help it; he’s always emitting a low amount of electricity,” Jay explains, gently scratching Wisp in a specific spot under his chin. Wisp hums in content, leaning into Jay’s touch.

“That’s amazing,” you reply, smiling at Wisp before turning to the next dragon.

This one is Rocky – Cole's dragon. This guy is certainly the bulkiest of the four, with scales that feel like rock underneath your fingertips. He seems to be made to take and deliver hits.

“Hi,” you say softly, carefully scratching the area above his nose. Rocky nuzzles his snout against your palm, eager to receive more pets.

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” you coo, watching as the dragon closes his eyes.

Cole pushes himself off against the wall he’d been leaning on, adorning a disbelieving expression. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” you wonder.

“He’s usually a jerk,” Cole grumbles, glaring at Rocky. You’re not fluent in dragon expressions, but you have a feeling that Rocky is taunting Cole somehow. “He’s always pushing us around, not...cuddling us! What’s your deal, man?!”

“I think it’s because you’re mean to him,” you retort, laughing when Rocky bumps his snout against your arm. You realize he wants more pets, so you oblige without complaint.

“Or because he’s a baby!” Jay calls, earning a laugh from Kai.

Cole rolls his eyes, stepping beside you to pet the dragon as well. You take note of how Cole’s eyes soften upon seeing his dragon. The sight makes you wonder what kind of bond they have, and how it came to be.

“And now they’re never going to let me live that down. See what you’ve done?” Cole says, turning to you with a smirk.

“I don’t feel too bad,” you retaliate before moving to the last dragon.

“Who’s this?” you ask, directing your question to Zane. He’d been sitting quietly alongside the icy blue and white dragon, which is laying down behind him.

“His name is Shard,” Zane answers, tone soft as he glances up at you. “And I must apologize...he does not like being touched by people he doesn’t know very well. I imagine he will come around in a few weeks.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I understand.” You smile, studying the dragon a bit longer. You decide to leave him alone for the time being, instead swiveling around to face the other ninja.

The other two dragons have settled for the morning too, all laying down. Kai and Jay are near the front of the shop now, the two speaking quietly. Zane joins them a few moments later.

Cole steps beside you, watching the three before answering your unasked question: “I think they’re going to try to get a quick sparring session in before we go. They need to loosen up and let some energy out.”

“You’re sitting out, right?” you inquire, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Yeah. I know the cut finally closed all the way, but it still hurts,” he comments.

“Good. I know that stuff healed your wound pretty well, but Mystake is still putting the finishing touches on that particular formula. So just...take it easy for a few more days, then you can go back to crimefighting and whatnot.”

“Are you saying you used me as a test subject?” Cole replies, crossing his arms as Jay gestures towards a small clearing across the shop. It’s grassy and spacious – perfect for a spar. You and Cole follow the three there, standing towards the side as Kai and Zane get into position.

“We try our new teas and potions on ourselves before anyone else,” you say. Just from observing their stances, you can already see how differently these guys fight from each other – Kai's stance is loose, and he’s staying mobile while remaining focused on Zane. The white ninja, on the other hand, adopts a more formal version of Kai’s. He’s not as jittery as Kai, but he’s studying Kai. Watching, and waiting.

“And then you just...perfect them as time goes on?” Cole wonders, the two of you watching as Kai launches an attack.

“Pretty much. Once you understand the base recipes, and how different ingredients affect the base, it’s easy to come up with what you need. So, there’s not much risk in involved.”

“I see,” Cole trails off, cringing when Zane exploits an opening Kai failed to notice. The white ninja lands a kick on Kai’s torso, eliciting a curse from the red ninja.

“Ouch,” you hiss, your ribs hurting just from watching them. “How do you guys do this? And enjoy it?”

“It pays off in its own way,” Cole replies with a shrug. “The risk is part of the thrill for us.”

“I think you guys are just crazy,” you mumble, eyeing the fight.

Your statement makes Cole laugh, the ninja unfolding his arms as he turns towards you. “You know, most people just call us noble. Or brave. Heroic, even.”

“I’m sure; I’m just not much of an ass-kisser.”

“And that’s exactly why she needs to be our medic,” Kai calls, he and Jay laughing at the exchange.

“I am not familiar with the act of ass-kissing,” Zane says, he and Kai stopping their match. “Is it in a literal or figurative sense? And why is imperative that our medic does not kiss ass?”

The white ninja’s remark cracks Kai and Jay up. Zane’s expression leaves you feeling a little bad for him, though.

You lean over to Cole again, making sure they aren’t listening as you ask your next question. “Is he always that dense?”

“Yep. Don’t get me wrong...he’s really smart, but stuff like this always flies over his head,” he answers before walking towards the others and answering Zane’s query.

“Figuratively, Zane. An ass-kisser or kiss-ass is someone who sucks up to someone else. It’s usually to win approval or favors; it depends on the context. And it’s not a required quality of a medic, but personally, I think it’s more fun that way.”

“She’ll be able to see right through our bullshit,” Kai adds. “She’ll do her job, but won’t baby us.”

Jay pulls himself up from his previous sitting position, stepping over to the group and adding: “Although, she’s not opposed to calling people babies.”

"Ah. I see now,” Zane says. “Thank you for the explanation.”

A silence sweeps over the five of you, partnered with a sudden chilly breeze. You turn around to have another glance at the dragons, watching as they all nap peacefully. A few onlookers have gathered towards the end of the street, ogling the dragons with hushed murmurs.

“We should probably get going soon,” Kai notes upon seeing the crowd. “Wouldn’t want to affect Mystake’s customer flow with our dragons.”

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “We can strap your stuff to Rocky. He’s probably the best suited to carry extra weight.”

You nod in response, realizing that this is the last morning you’ll spend here for at least two weeks – more if the job goes as well as you think it will. A pit funnels into your stomach, hands twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Okay,” you finally say, turning back towards the ninja. “I’m gonna go talk to Mystake, then.”

Cole nods, bits of understanding flickering in his eyes. “Take your time.”

You smile appreciatively, leaving the group and passing by the snoozing dragons. The bell chimes as you enter the shop, seeing Mystake at the register.

A glance at the clock tells you that the shop has roughly forty-five minutes until opening, giving you a bit of time to say your goodbyes.

The elderly woman looks up at you once you approach, smiling as you greet her.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning, dearie,” Mystake says, expression softening as she glances out the window to look at the ninja. “I suppose today’s the day, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah...it is.”

She steps around the counter, hand coming to clasp around yours. “Come with me. I need to give you something.”

Your mentor guides you towards your room, where your packed belongings lay. On top of your bed is a canvas bag. You note that’s it is your favorite color, complete with a crossbody strap, several pockets, and metal clasps. It looks to be built for durability and function – the straps are thicker than you’d expect to find on a regular bag.

“I’ve prepared this for you,” she starts, sitting on the edge of your bed. You do the same, settling in across from her. “I’m glad you’ll be working with Wu. I always give him a hard time, but he’s a good man. And, since I’ve known him for so long, I had an idea of what you should bring.”

With that, Mystake tugs the bag into her lap, snapping the clasps open. “This bag contains everything you’ll need to get started.”

The first object she pulls out is a wooden box – it's handcrafted and painted your favorite color, decorated with floral engravings along the sides. “This box is filled with your basic teas and potions. There should be enough for two weeks. Should you decide to stay with them, I’ve made something else for you.”

Mystake sets the box aside, hands delving back into the bag to reveal a handcrafted leather journal. The cover is black, painted with pink and purple symbols that seem familiar somehow. The pages are thick and gray, like a stormy sky.

“This is a copy of my recipe book. Every potion and tea you’ve ever crafted under my guidance can be found here – with the exception of my secret ones, of course. There are also a few blank pages in the back so you can create your own, too.”

Then, Mystake tilts the bag towards you. You peer inside, seeing various basic medical supplies – bandages, gauze, simple over-the-counter medicines. It looks like enough for two weeks as well. “And, lastly, traditional medical supplies. Enough for the duration of your stay."

With that, Mystake repacks the bag and sets it aside.

Your eyes are watering slightly as you stare at the bag, watching as she snaps the clasps shut. “Mystake...I don’t know what to say. I...”

She chuckles, taking your hands in hers. Wrinkled, steely gray eyes peer at you from underneath her straw hat, just as glassy as yours.

“It’s okay, because I already understand how you feel. I know what you want to say. I was in your position once, after all. I was standing before my family in my homeland, about to travel into this world so I could fulfill my duty. But I never could have imagined what awaited me in a Ninjago – a land where I could live a mundane life, set up a silly old tea shop. A land where I had the blessing to train one of the brightest pupils that I’ve ever mentored.” She pauses, squeezing your hands. “I’m so proud of you.”

That does it. You sniffle, letting yourself cry. “You are?”

“Of course I am,” she mumbles. “You’ve come such a long way since the day I found you. And now you’re preparing to work on your own…”

“Mystake…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as you envelope her in a hug – the woman who’d taken you in, mentored you. “You…you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you.”

Her arms coil tighter still around your figure, and against your arms you can feel the scratchy wool of her handknitted sweater. An herbal scent floods your senses as you soak it in, knowing this will be the last time you smell it in a while.

It would forever remind you of her.

“I’m honored I got the chance to mentor you, and get to know you as a young lady. You’re going to do incredible things. The world is yours, dearie; grab it by the neck and throttle it!”

You giggle, already knowing that you’re going to miss her eccentric self. “I won’t ever be able to repay you for everything that you’ve done for me. All I can say is: thank you, Mystake. I’m going to do all I can to make you proud. I’m forever grateful for your hospitality and mentorship.”

“You’ve already made me proud. I know you’re going to be amazing. You’ll be the best damned medic in Ninjago, you hear me? Now get out there and make it happen. They’re waiting for you.”

With those parting words, Mystake stands, pulling the bag she’d prepared into her arms. “Ready?”

You make sure you have your bags before nodding, glancing around your room one last time. Without your belongings scattered about the room, it seems far too empty. Your eyes soften as you study the area, heart aching when you realize you won’t be coming back to sleep here again for a while.

Despite your reluctance, you smile, mumbling a soft “thank you” to the room that had sheltered you for all of those years.

A sigh escapes you as you turn, following Mystake out of the shop.

The sun is higher in the sky now, and the dragons seem to be reenergized. Jay and Wisp are play fighting where Kai and Zane had been sparring earlier; Cole is fussing over Rocky while Kai is adjusting a saddle on Flame. Zane and Shard are still sitting together, watching the others struggle.

“You rapscallions better treat my pupil well,” Mystake grumbles, eyeing the crowd still ogling the dragons. “We can hurt just as well as we can heal-”

“Mystake,” you interrupt, chuckling as Jay’s eyes widen. “It’s going to be just fine.”

“Here, let me take those for you,” Cole replies, reaching for your bags. You oblige, grinning softly at him as you hand them to him.

“Thank you,” you reply, watching as he sets them on Rocky’s back. Kai approaches once he’s done, holding a mix of ropes and bungee cords.

The two set about strapping your luggage to the dragon, making sure that they’re secure before asking Rocky to move around a little. After a few adjustments have been made, Cole nods in approval.

“Alright, I think we’re about set,” Cole notes, glancing around at the others. “Who’s gonna take Wu back?”

“I can,” Kai answers, the four grouping together as Sensei Wu emerges from the store.

“Alright. Then I guess we’re headed back to the monastery, then,” Cole replies. The others nod in agreement, preparing to board their dragons. The black ninja takes a moment to double check the bags before turning to you.

His green eyes sparkle in the morning light, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Anything else you need to do before we take off?”

You don’t answer immediately, instead turning towards Mystake again. Wordlessly, you loop your arms around her neck.

She returns your embrace, voice soft in your ear as she says: “I’m going to miss you, but I’m glad you’re pursuing your dream. Remember what I said. Take care, dear. I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you too.”

She pulls away from you, lips pressed together tightly as she releases you. “Now go.”

For a moment, your throat tightens with the things you want to say to her. Despite this, you hesitate, realizing that she already knows what you want to say.

With that, you turn back towards the ninja before you, glancing up at him through glassy eyes.

“Okay,” you murmur, nodding briskly. “I’m ready.”

Always happy to read fresh requests. Read my guidelines before submitting, please!

Masterlist for this Fic

#ninjago x reader #reader insert #cole x reader #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookstone & reader #cole brookstone x reader #ninjago knife to meet you series

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munsonslove · 2 years ago

Text

Five Times (part one: 1-3)

(18+ only)

summary: A stressful day at work leads to Eddie promising to make you cum over and over until your head is empty.

wordcount: 4.7k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, dom!Eddie, established relationship, smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, choking, spitting in mouth, hair pulling, biting, squirting, overstim, dacryphilia, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), he’s kinda mean in this but like in a you want him to be a lil mean to you way not like he’s an actual asshole way

a/n: listen. i’ve had a very stressful year and the idea of just being allowed to be dumb and not have to worry about anything is very appealing. part 2 with more smut to come...

Today marked the one month anniversary since your (well deserved) promotion. You could finally say with confidence that your career was more than just taking notes and getting coffee for those in higher up positions. Still, this growth came with hard work, late nights, stress, and snide remarks from the men at the office who chalked your success up to low cut shirts worn around the boss. Which is ridiculous cause you’re not even sure that man had ever seen your clavicle, much less any cleavage.

Thankfully, this stress subsided by your wonderful relationship. Although Eddie loved and respected you, he knew that sometimes the responsibilities of adult life weighed on you like a million tons. He genuinely thought you were one of the smartest and most impressive people he’s ever met, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give you what you needed. And what you needed was an escape from the overthinking and worrying- permission to turn your brain off and give yourself over to pleasure.

There was a tell you subconsciously gave when your psyche craved that escape: when you pass through the entranceway of your shared home and Eddie comes to welcome you at the door, instead of greeting him with a smile and hug, you simply keep your arms limp at your sides as you collapse into him and bury your face in his neck.

That’s precisely how your arrival happened this evening, and Eddie wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you as he tenderly kissed your temple and led you to the bedroom. Along the way, he spoke no words as he helped you strip yourself of the restricting uniform of your day to day life. Heels are abandoned at the front door, a few feet from them a discarded blazer, then a little farther down the hallway was a crumpled pile of nylon that was once stockings.

Now inside the room, Eddie sat you down on the edge of the mattress as his nimble fingers undid the buttons of your blouse and unhooked your slightly-too-tight underwire bra. Once your top half was completely bare, you laid back and lifted your hips up so that he could slide your skirt and panties down your legs in one quick motion.

As you settled into bed and got comfortable, Eddie tossed the worn clothes to the side and looked down at you with dark eyes. After flashing a crooked grin, he climbed onto the bed and rested on his knees. Kneeling before you, he starts laughing quietly.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “Look at this pretty little prize I have all to myself.”

He didn’t permit any talking yet, so you remain silent. Instead, you laid there in anticipation while waiting impatiently for his next move. His calloused fingers leave goosebumps in their wake as he trails them from your belly button to your waist. When they reach the end of their journey, his hands suddenly grip with determination as he moves you how he pleases. Your body is pliant and powerless while he arranges you the way he needs you to be, something that he is glaringly proud about.

“You’re tired of pretending, aren’t you? Pretending you’re not my mindless little doll?” he murmurs with a smirk, and your thighs instinctively twitch to shut from the wave of arousal his tone sends through you. “Well, I doubt I could fuck the stupid out of you, but I can try.”

His assured, unwavering certainty was soul shattering. What once was hesitant enthusiasm is now teetering on full blown alarm when memories flood your brain of your doting boyfriend nearly bruising your pelvis from the valor he exhibited in washing away your bad days with orgasms. That turning in your stomach only heightened your senses, pulling feeble whimpers out of you with embarrassingly minimal contact.

“My pretty girl,” he tutted with a mischievous lilt. “Need me to turn that brain off, huh? How about you let me play with you?”

You nod in response as the butterflies in your stomach turn violent and almost make you feel sick. Finally, all thoughts of whether or not paperwork was filled out correctly and filed in the right places are gone, and the only thing you can think of is Eddie’s burning hot touch on your skin.

“Wha’sa matter? Can’t use your big girl words?” he asks, slurring a bit as the lust clouds his senses. “That’s alright, I’ll do all the talking. Just focus on turning off that brain,” his voice is now growing low and raspy, and you feel his fingers twitching on your waist as he resists the itch to touch you. “That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Being my sweet, dumb girl. The only thing you’re good at is being a drooly little mess for me.”

What he’s saying should be demeaning, but it only makes you more turned on. His grip loosens as his fingernails scratch their way down toward your center. When he reaches your mound, just above your slickened lips, he slows down. Obviously, he wants to make you desperate enough that he can watch you squirm.

“Nnngh,” you whine, exasperated. “Eddie, please…”

“Needy fucking slut,” he chastises, but his eyes reveal more amusement than authority. He has to hold back the huff of laughter that threatens its way up his throat as he continues. “You’re gonna wait like the good girl I know you are. You wanna know how I know?”

Your eyebrows pinch together as you try to not cry from the frustration, and you make a small humming noise while shrugging your shoulders.

“Because,” he starts as his fingers finally make contact with your aching cunt. They slide easily along your folds, causing a choked gasp in reaction from you. “Only good girls have wet pussies like this. That’s my proof- good girls have wet, dripping pussies. And you’re always dripping for me, aren’t you, princess?”

“Mhm,” you agree as your legs open wider. The amount of concentration it takes to not buck your hips into his touch is overwhelming, but you manage to bear it. “Oh, please Eds. Need it so bad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” he cooed patronizingly, leaving one short peck between your furrowed brows. “But do you deserve it?”

Your toes are starting to cramp by the force they’re curling in with. “I- I think I-“

“You don’t think, you obey,” he corrects sternly, cutting off your stuttering. “You’re a brainless toy for me to use, don’t you know that?”

“Yes, yes I know,” you moan while nodding your head harder, hoping that your compliance will make him want to speed up his process.

Your plan succeeds, but not as much as you’d ideally hope. Eddie’s curious touches migrate from skimming up and down your slit to rubbing at the very top, effectively granting your clit just enough pressure to have you wanting more. A few stray tears fall from their ducts out of relief, and velvet soft lips wipe the moisture away before you even detected it. The rough pad of his middle finger glides smoothly around the bud thanks to your wetness- pushing it up, down, and side to side with ease. His other hand is pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, both holding your legs open and occasionally caressing comfortingly.

“This cute little button needed some attention, did it? Are you happy now? Done being a whiny fucking brat?” he asks, chuckling mockingly. You’re writhing and sighing, almost too distracted to respond, but you do manage to nod your head. Eddie’s not satisfied with your wordless answer.

“Getting dumber already?” he goes on to add, and his hand freezes between your legs. “I asked you a question, silly girl.” Though trying to portray total control, you can tell he’s suppressing a smile.

“Y- yes!” you supply shakily, your stutter making your panic apparent. “I’m s- sorry. I’m done being a br- brat.”

Eddie tsks three times, as if scolding a pet. The implication of that has you shuddering once again. His hand continues its ministrations. “And what do we say, hmm?”

“Thank you!” you gasp out as his pressure and speed both increase. “Oh, thank you.” Your calves tremble, despite how still you’re trying to keep them.

“God, look how messy this little hole is for me. She’s fucking begging for my fingers. I think she’s gonna cum real fast, how ‘bout you?” he asks, his eyes glazing over as he languidly strokes your sensitive clit. “Stay still now, baby.”

But it’s impossible to not squirm as Eddie pinches and rolls the nub between his fingers. He’s ruthless and tooth-rottingly sweet all at once. You wriggle in his hold, your muscles jerking of their own accord, rutting your hips into his expert touch. Weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, forcing you to still- per his previous instructions.

“I know, princess, I know,” he comforts. “It’s hard to follow orders when your brain is so empty. Just keep those pretty eyes on me. You can at least do that, can’t you?”

You fight to not let your heavy eyelids flutter shut. It’s a struggle, but Eddie’s eyes being laser focused on yours makes it slightly easier. As he continues rubbing your clit so perfectly, his other hand moves to cradle your jaw. His thick thumb frees your bottom lip from where it was trapped between your teeth, and breaks the barrier into your more than willing mouth. He presses down on your tongue, just far back enough to slightly trigger your gag reflex but careful to not cause too much discomfort. Then his hand retreats, breaking the trance that had you fixated on his hypnotic gaze.

You whimper a weak protest as your tongue extends over your chin and attempts to follow his fingers. This effort brings your head a couple inches off the pillow, only to have it slammed back down when he unexpectedly grabs your throat. The cool metal of his rings are a stark contrast to your heated skin. With his palm now pushing into your windpipe, you let out a puff of air in shock and wrap your hands around his wrists.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t breathe?” he asks, but the way he says it suggests that he doesn’t actually care. He’s clearly enjoying the way you’re currently clawing at his forearm.

You try to plead for mercy, but can’t find the power to form a sentence beyond weak gasps for air. All you can do is try to blink away the blur in your vision as your head gets hazier and hazier.

He responds with a merciless laugh, then loosens his grip just enough to allow oxygen to enter your lungs once more before leaning forward and spitting into your still open mouth without warning. The force of it hits your tongue and causes his spit to splatter onto the roof of your mouth. You can’t help the volume of the broken moan that involuntarily leaves you. You also can’t help the way your hips buck up- making his fingers slip from your clit, which only turns your satisfied groan into a distressed whine.

“Poor thing,” he hums while putting on a faux-sympathetic pout, his lower lip jutting out sarcastically and his eyebrows upturning.

He leans down to gently kiss your cheek, so light and quick that you barely even feel it. All you can focus on is his weight on top of you, chest pressed to yours with his arm wedged in between so that he can continue lazily toying with your clit, much to your relief. Eddie’s nose trails along your cheekbone until his hot, humid breath is tickling your ear. Lips move against your earlobe as he whispers his next words.

“Do you even realize how fucking pathetic you look right now?” he asks. “You probably don’t care though. Too much of a desperate fucking slut. Say it.”

“I’m a desperate slut,” you immediately comply.

The hand being used to lightly choke you breaks contact for a moment, only long enough for Eddie to push himself up onto his knees, before returning to its place on your neck. From there, he can comfortably look down at you while he continues to squeeze your neck and bring you closer to orgasm.

He grins at you like he’s proud, eyes wet and sentimental. It almost sounds loving the way he says, “That’s right. My desperate slut.”

Everything’s gone fuzzy. Any outside stimulant other than the man on top of you can’t reach your senses. It was like the two of you were covered in a heavy blanket, instead of being in the cool open air of your shared bedroom. The rest of the world felt so distant- a million miles away- that you couldn’t even remember any of the stresses that were previously bothering you. The pressure Eddie is applying to your throat isn’t tight enough to drastically affect your airflow anymore, so he and you both know that this is just the natural effect he has on you.

“Are you there so soon? I’ve already rubbed your mind away?” He sounds almost disappointed as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “We just started. Why do you have to be such a greedy whore?”

You know he’s just playing into his role. You know he doesn’t really mean it, and that he’s only trying to help ease you more into the headspace you crave so badly. But still, you feel the overwhelming urge to do whatever it takes for him to call you a good girl.

“I’m sorry. I can hold it,” you try to assure, without being entirely sure that it’s the truth. The tightness in your stomach is growing at an alarming rate.

“Don’t bother,” he tells you, sarcastically exaggerating a bored sigh. “What, you didn’t think I was gonna let you off that easy, did you? Surely even you aren’t that dumb.” His face leans dangerously close to yours as he emphasizes that last ‘you’, and his voice turns low and threatening. “I’m gonna make you cum a minimum of five times tonight, might as well get one over with now.”

And with that guarantee, you feel the dam break. He never even got around to fingering you, but you had a suspicion that that was next on the list. Rough kneading at your breast and lips once again attaching themself to your pulse point is what tipped you off that he had finally released your throat. Your head was thrown back- giving his mouth easy access- and your knees bent as your thighs squeezed together tight, trapping him there. Though, the quiet sound of your breathy moans and beauty of your scrunched up face made him want to stay there forever, so he personally wouldn’t describe it as ‘trapped’.

“Good girl,” he growls, sounding crazed and cruel. “Look so cute like this. Sound so cute too. Like a fucking pathetic slut.”

His left hand began pinching at your nipples while the right’s movement on your clit remained throughout the duration of your climax, not ending until teary begging for him to stop alerted him to your overstimulation. He decided to allow you a moment to breathe, but only briefly. As your chest rises and deflates rapidly, your earlier suspicion proved true. Eddie’s vow of at least five orgasms was no empty promise, it was an oath. His middle finger slid eagerly down your puffy lips until reaching your entrance, where you promptly stopped him.

“Eddie, wait!” you exclaim, pushing his still determined hands away and attempting to cover your mound with your own. “I can’t cum again so soon!”

He outright scoffs at that, finally tearing his attention away from the area you’re pointlessly failing to defend to stare at you incredulously. “Now princess, we both know that’s not true. Who are you trying to fool?”

To an outsider this might seem mean, but you know that one utterance of your safeword would have Eddie’s dominance melting away in an instant. Truthfully, his dedication to ruin you with a second orgasm so closely followed by the first only excited you more- something that is no secret to him. You were still nervous about what he was going to do to you though, and this was made apparent from the way you crossed one ankle over the other- effectively shielding yourself from his touch.

“Aw, is someone shy?” he asked, feigning sympathy. You nod, but it’s ineffective at changing his mind. “I don’t care. Spread your legs.”

You didn’t set out to follow his order so willingly. His brash way of speaking had your body moving without any input from your brain, shifting each ankle to opposite sides of the mattress and baring yourself to him unabashedly despite your inner modesty.

“You’re mean,” you complained with an exaggerated frown, downplaying the rush of wanting that soared through you.

“Yeah?” he snickered as his hand returned to its spot between your legs, coating the slick from your previous orgasm on his fingers before forcing them deep inside you all at once. “Well you’re wet.”

Without warning, the two middle fingers of his right hand bury themselves to the hilt before curling upward, expertly finding their favorite spot inside you within seconds. The small band on his ring finger pushed past the threshold of your opening, entering into you. It was insultingly obvious the way you could differentiate the cool, smooth metal from his warm, rough skin. You could even feel the ridge where bare skin now became shielded by silver jewelry. That bump and the sensations it caused on your sensitive inner walls were so addicting. The intensity was almost too much to brave, but after all this time you trusted Eddie to know your limits even better than you did.

His free hand finds purchase on your waist, holding firmly as if to silently instruct you to stay still. Whispered curses slip through your gritted teeth, and they only slightly assist you in enduring the direct targeting of your g-spot. While you couldn’t see his expression, you had a feeling the sight of you wiping away the water pooling at your eyes was only stirring Eddie more.

“Keep crying,” he says, trying to sound intimidating but unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Not that it’ll get you anywhere, but you look real pretty crying under me.”

“Please, please I wanna-“ you start, only to be interrupted by your own abrupt gasp when he begins moving. He’s pumping in and out of you at a pace that- while not slow- he’s well aware won’t be enough.

“Christ, do you hear yourself? ‘P-p-p-please,” he mocks, mimicking your expression. His condescending tone lacked any compassion, despite the grin that betrayed his features afterwards.

“Please, Eddie,” you try again, hoping that he’ll hear your overwhelming lust and take pity. “I wanna cum on your cock.”

“Oh? What happened to ‘I can’t cum again’, hm?” he asks. He does seem to feel a little sorry for his teasing, however, seeing as he hastens to what he’s discovered in the past to be the perfect tempo for you. “You’ll get my cock when I say you can have my cock and you’ll be grateful.”

All you’re able to do is nod in agreement, being far too weakened to fight back anymore. Eddie’s perfect aim has his fingers finding your g-spot with each forward lunge of his arm, and it’s barreling you toward another orgasm far too quickly. The muscles in your neck move involuntarily, and you steal one last glance at your lover before your head is thrown back completely. He’s watching you, eyes wide with adoration- which would fill your heart if past experiences didn’t tell you that meant for a very long night (and a very sore morning).

The crown of your skull is flat on the pillow beneath your head as a long guttural groan escapes from somewhere deep within. Your fated second climax of the night shows no remorse, stealing all the breath from your lungs and leaving your legs shaking. Eddie also lacks remorse, his fingers never losing speed as your walls clench around them. Arousal gushed over his hand and onto the sheets, leaving a sticky mess that you were too gone to care about. His comforting touch settles over your spasming diaphragm in an halfhearted attempt to help calm you after you start to thrash, but the way he drags your orgasm out with quite a few more thrusts than necessary proves how much he is enjoying this.

“There you go, princess,” he purrs. “Feel all of it, you deserve it.”

It was like your body had become too tight, cramping your stomach from the strong contractions. Simultaneously, it was also as if you were exploding out of your goosebump-littered skin. While somewhat sensing the strain of your vocal chords, you couldn't recognize the voice echoing profanity throughout the room. All you could manage to focus on was the sound of Eddie coaxing you through your comedown, his usual baritone barely audible as he shushed you and stroked your hair.

“Catch your breath baby, nice and slow. We’re not done yet,” he murmured softly, the devious glint in his eyes returning when his promise sent an obvious shiver down your spine.

“Such a good little slut,” he praised, “Probably have no idea how fucking hard you’re making me right now. Don’t have much ideas about anything, really, other than how bad you wanna be fucked stupid.”

“So bad,” you agreed, barely able to comprehend what was being said to you. “So, so bad.”

Confusion floods you when he rolls his eyes at your response. There’s a quiet muttering coming from his moving lips, something sounding like ‘... -proving my point,’ but you’re too caught up in the way he closes the distance between his and your mouths.

Time stills as you allow his kiss to absorb you and melt your mind. You’re not sure exactly how long it took until he determined that you were ready for more, but you suspected that he was purposely granting you time to recover before enacting his next course of action (ever the gentleman no matter how inexplicably turned on him disrespecting you made you feel). He kissed you breathless until that ache in your bones returned, the need for him coming back in full force. After what could have been minutes or hours, Eddie parted from your still desperate body.

He pushed himself off of you leisurely before positioning you horizontally across the bed. Hands sank into the dip of your waist, seizing both sides of your torso and dragging your pelvis to the very edge of the mattress. Then, he fell to his knees on the carpet and hooked your legs over his shoulders. His arms wrap around from the underside of your thighs, holding them in place and leaving no room for resistance. Now that he had you exactly how he wanted you, he mouthed at the delicate skin of your inner thighs- gentle nips and kisses to the left before switching and unexpectedly biting down on the flesh of the right. You yelp at the unexpected sting, and though he was careful not to draw blood, there will surely be a darkened mark replicating the shape of his canines there the next day.

“Is my girl ready for number three?” he asks, smiling up at you looking entirely too sure of himself, yet somehow remaining endearing. “Gonna drain what little is left inside that pretty head. Gonna make you lose some IQ points.”

You’re now completely engulfed in euphoria, the natural high from an overproduction of hormones in your brain is incomparable to any substance you’ve sampled before. While still distracted trying to control your smiling in this loopy state, Eddie takes the opportunity to catch you by surprise. He licks a long stripe up your glistening sex, spanning from your leaking hole to your swollen clit.

Ditzy giggles are interrupted by a choked gasp, and the bed sheets loosen from the corners when your hands grasp at them and pull. This reaction produces a smirk from the man between your legs. You feel his lips stretch wide, the movement slightly lifting your clitoral hood and allowing access for his teeth to scrape against the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath. It’s too much, and you instinctively try to scoot backwards, only to be reminded that he’s holding you in place. Though obviously aware of your attempts to escape his busy mouth, he shows no signal that he plans to ease up.

His technique shifts from long flat licks into stiffening the very tip of his tongue and flicking it back and forth over your clit. He keeps this up until you’re squirming under him, only to relax his tongue once more and allow the muscle to melt against your center. It’s messy and uncalculated, and you can feel his drool dripping down over your ass and wetting the sheets even more. You’re not surprised the simple act of eating you out has Eddie salivating, he’s been obsessed with getting his mouth on you whenever possible since the beginning of your relationship. In fact, for those first few months, it was pretty much a guarantee that he would cum in his pants like a teenager anytime he gave you head.

Like a psychic, Eddie moves away from your clit right as the build up begins. But before you can whine any complaints, he starts fucking his tongue in and out of your hole. When you look down at him through hooded eyes you’re almost shocked at the sight of him completely engrossed in your pussy, his cheeks covered in your wetness with eyes screwed shut. The underside of his nose and his chin press harshly against you as he tries to push his tongue out as far as it’ll go.

He’s moaning into you, clearly enjoying the taste. For a brief moment you feel slightly jealous, wishing to have him in your mouth as well. You forget all envy, however, when he pushes further into you and shakes his head left to right, the vibrations from his moans present as ever.

The force with which his fingers dig into your flesh is sure to bruise the fat of your thighs, but you don’t notice the burn it’s causing until after being released. He looks up at you through his lashes and you watch as his tongue leaves your hole. With a devilish glare, he spits harshly directly on your clit before returning to licking and sucking it, the entire time his eyes never moving from your face. One arm unwraps itself from around your thigh so that he can extend out his pointer and middle fingers before plunging them into you. The other hand disappears to where your eyes can’t follow- but given how his moans picked up in ferocity, you were certain about what he was doing. Not only did his palming of himself make him louder, but it had his tongue pulsating against you and shoving you further over the edge to your orgasm.

All hope of lasting longer was lost when he curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, forgoing fucking them in and out to instead massage the spongy spot inside you. This, coupled with the way his lips were now focused on suckling your clit, had you tugging at his curls while you yelled out in pleasure.

This many orgasms so quickly after one another was slightly painful, but in a confusing way that only made you crave him inside you even more. Using your grip on his hair to yank him off of you, you sit up to see him on his knees with a crazed look in his eyes. His entire lower face from his nose down was glistening with the combination of your cum and his drool, and the sheets beneath where you sat didn’t feel any dryer.

“God, baby,” he groans, his voice completely wrecked with lust, “please tell me you don’t need a minute, cause I’m about to bust right now.”

Now that you’re not laying down, you’re able to peer over the edge of the mattress and see his hand at work, rubbing harshly over the zipper of his jeans to try and offer any sense of relief.

“I’m ready, Eds,” you pant out while nodding, still needing to catch your breath.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

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hannahwdraws · 1 month ago

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I want to draw the whole exchange that follows Magda'len Rook Laidir coming to dinner to meet Catarina as Lucanis' romantic partner but that will be a lot of drawing!! So I wrote it below instead.

Despite Lucanis' reassurances, Rook was having a difficult time convincing her armpits not to sweat, her stomach not to churn, or her nose to twitch in nervous anticipation.

Her first time in Villa Dellamorte had been under different albeit just as high stakes circumstances: rescuing the very woman they were coming to have dinner with. And during that first visit, she was nearly taken down by Venatori for how much she gawped at the luxuries on display.

A treasure hunter for much of her adult life, trying to earn enough coin to survive and turns out all she had to do was attach herself to the crown prince of The Crows and she’d be set for life.

Provided Catarina didn't kill her tonight.

Despite The Crow matriarch's gratitude on the night of the rescue and her promoting of Lucanis to first talon, her approval was in short supply tonight. There was no warmth in her welcome, and Lucanis all but shivered from the icy brush of her lips to his cheek when they met her outside the dining room. Her eyes slid over Rook like she wasn’t even there. Was it better to be ignored in this case? Rook would have to wait and see.

They made it through the first course (a light salad) relatively unscathed. Only polite comments on the weather, the markets, and how they might get tickets to a pantomime that swore to recount the most accurate depiction of the fight against the Elven gods in Northern Thedas and they wanted to test that claim for themselves.

Catarina found a biting comment to make in response to every one of theirs.

Rook was determined to smile through the discomfort and hope that none of the food was stuck in her teeth. Or poisoned.

Unfortunately, Lucanis caught the disdainful sneer Caterina tried to hide behind her napkin and evidently thought now was the perfect time to put his title of First Talon to the test.

"Aye, Catarina, don't make faces like that. I thought you liked Rook? Didn't you always ask me when I would bring someone home? Well now I have, and you're picking it apart," he said.

"I am happy Lucanis, but you have to understand, she isn't a Crow. How will your children continue the Dellamorte line as you need to with an untried, an untested thief?" Catarina immediately shot back.

Funny, Rook thought, that thief was worth such contempt from an assassin.

Lucanis' hands raised in disbelief, and he could only scoff,

"She rescued me from The Ossuary, she rescued you from Illario. She killed a GOD!"

"Yes? And?" Catarina sniffed, only as a grandmother with impossible standards could. "A soldier can kill a man just as well as a vagrant in the streets, a Crow is of a different stock entirely. She has no parents, so I don't know anything of her house. She has no fledglings she trained with to compare against. How am I to know she is worthy of you? For the family?"

"Mierda, Catarina," was all Lucanis had strength for. He had to rub at his forehead, realizing only now that this wouldn't be as easy as he initially thought.

"WE. LIKE! ROOK." forced through Lucanis' lips before he could clamp them together.

Catarina's eyebrows creased even more (if possible) and Lucanis flushed. It was the same feeling of shame and embarrassment as when he didn't hit every target when Catarina trained him as a boy.

His shoulders tensed. His eyes unable to meet hers. Damnit, Spite was supposed to stay quiet while they were here.

Convincing Catarina was difficult in the best of times, they didn’t need the added challenge of Lucanis’ inner demon making him look incompetent or out of control.

Rook reached over, rubbing his thigh hard enough to generate heat. She gave what weak smile she could. She was too busy biting her tongue to stop herself from jumping to Lucanis' defense. They needed Catarina's approval and ripping her a new one was the least likely way to get it.

"Thank you, Spite, but don't worry about it. We are still getting settled into life after all this... crazy Elven invasion. Marriage and kids are a long ways off, if they were to even happen at all!"

"Oh so you wish to deprive me of meeting my great-grandchildren? How selfish," Catarina scoffed.

Shit. There was no winning against this woman. At least the second course was being brought in. The words would stop coming out while they were busy putting food in.

The bowls of red had only just touched the tablecloth before there was a flash of silver coming from a butler's cummerbund.

"DOWN WITH DELLAMORTE, LONG LIVE ZARA!" was screamed, as the butler closest to Lucanis raised his blade. How he got so close, into the house, no one was sure. And it didn’t matter! All that mattered was surviving the next minute. Lucanis and Catarina both dove for their cutlery, the closest weapons they had.

But they wouldn't have a chance to use it, as their vision failed them.

A cold flash of light burned around them, a flash grenade? Smoke? They blinked away the stars in their vision, and only once their eyes started to clear did they come to find their ears were blocked too. A crashing roar of thunder rolled through. The light was at least brief, while it took their ears much longer to stop ringing.

Lucanis was on his feet, knife in hand. He appeared to be fine, no injuries, no wounds. He was a coiled spring but looking around, he couldn't see the assailant anymore.

He saw a knife fall to the tiles, clattering next to a black scorch.

Only two butlers remained in the dining room, both looking just as surprised and ready to defend the Dellamortes.

Catarina was as prepared for a fight, the knife hidden in her cane drawn and at the ready. But her eyebrows and hairline were both blown back.

Slowly, the two master assassins turned, looking at the only other person in the dining room they didn’t have in their immediate vision.

Rook's hand was extended. Sparks continued to crackle up her forearm. Her chest heaved in fury for a few more breaths. A deep shuddering breath and she let the tension leave her body. The threat was not longer in the room, so she could blink the rage from her eyes. She tossed her hand a few times, dissipating the sparks as thought they were flicking water from her fingertips.

She smiled at Lucanis and Catarina. This was a different kind of uncomfortable from before, but just as bizarre. So she might as well approach them the same.

"Is this gazpacho? It looks delicious. Is it the same recipe you make, Lucanis?"

Lucanis and his grandmother both slumped back into their chairs. Everyone was on much better behavior for the rest of the evening.

Later, Rook looked out to sea on the balcony attached to the guest room that was larger than her apartment over the canal. The wealth on display was truly mind boggling. She never would have guessed given how grounded Lucanis was.

Though he wasn't exactly grounded at that moment. He made a sinuous entrance, sliding down an eave from the roof, and dropping to the balcony. He earned the squawk of surprise Rook let loose. Her laughter didn't follow far behind collapsing into his arms.

"You scared me half to death! I couldn't have handled two assassination attempts in one night!" she laughed into his chest.

"You might have to, if you don't keep it down. Catarina will know I snuck out to see you."

"Mm... isn't this supposed to be your house now? Can she really forbid us from sharing a room?" Rook grumbled against the soft knit of his vest. Her fingers were already picking to get underneath.

"Not really, no. But it's another one of her little tests. If I'm an assassin worth my salt, she won't ever know I was here. But, if I didn't try to defy her in the name of love, she wouldn't think I was serious about you. So either way, I prove she taught me well," his eyes were hooded in a devilish smoulder and he brought Rook's gloved fingers to his lips for a gentlemanly peck.

Taught well indeed, as Rook's stomach turned molten. But it was hard to feel amorous with all the worries still piled on her shoulders.

"Well good thing you aren't the one she has a problem with. I might have bungled this beyond repair. i'm sorry if I ruined dinner. I can pay to replace the tiles if they can’t get the scorch out. At least I think I can afford to replace them."

Lucanis’ eyes were focused on the cut of her dress, on the rosy flush on her cheeks. Those were much more important than listening. He was too busy pressing his lips to her wrists, biting at the gloves and eyeing where they joined her dress. Could he take just them off just as gloves? Or would the whole dress have to go?

"Mm do not worry mi amore. You did wonderfully, genuinely, I believe Catarina will give us her blessing. As soon as she's done investigating the butler. She wants to be sure you weren't the one who hired him."

Rook snatched her hands back. Her fists clenched and pressed to her cheeks. Immediately she was confused and panicked.

"ME? She thinks I hired him?! Why? And why would she give her blessing to someone she thinks tried to kill her favorite grandson and first talon?!"

Damn the rich laugh Lucanis rolled out. He shouldn't be so relaxed around someone who allegedly wanted to kill him.

"No, she is impressed! If you hired someone to make you look good by saving my life! It shows dedication and a flair for the dramatic. Both things Catarina appreciates greatly. Or, if you didn't hire him,"

"I didn't! I swear! Lucanis I would never," she grabbed his wrist and hoped her emphatic tone expressed sincerity and not panic that her plot had been figured out.

"If you didn't," Lucanis drawled, all while taking her hands again and winding her close. Back into his arms she went, "Then you still showed great power, excellent reaction time, loyalty..." Lucanis' eyes were so soft, so glowing with admiration for this beautiful creature against him.

"And a flair for the dramatic. I cannot emphasize enough how important that is for Catarina and most Crows."

Rook hung her head, leaning forward to press her brow against his chest.

"I know everyone says their in-laws are crazy. But you have them all beat by 60 leagues."

"It's a good thing you love me then, isn't it?" Lucanis purred, only just able to hide the nerves that his family would be the reason Rook finally left.

She heaved a sigh, lifting her eyes to his, pursing her lips like she was really thinking about it. Really weighing her options. But she couldn’t let him dangle for long. She pressed upwards to brush her lips against his and slide her arms around his neck.

"Yes, it is."

#my art #dragon age #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #dragon age veilguard #da:tv #da:v #fic #fan fiction #dragon age fanfiction

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silentscrying · 2 months ago

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🏀 buzzer beater | chapter ELEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, slight unwanted advances, mahito in general, fangirl todo. || sfw. 5.3k words.

THE NEXT DAY, the Curses take the series against the Foxes. It’s official: the Sorcerers-Curses rivalry will come to a head in the NBA championships, starting on Friday in San Diego.

The team went harder than ever at practice today, not only drilling but talking strategy and getting into the nitty-gritty of the psychological impact of the rivalry. Yaga knows Mei Mei and the Curses don’t go easy, or fair. They’re ready.

As you pull out the keys to your apartment, you frown at the package on your welcome mat, a weird cylindrical shape with no return address. After you make it to the kitchen, you open it and find a rolled-up sheet of glossy paper. What?

You spread it out on your countertop and see an official signed poster of Satoru, in full uniform, palming a basketball in one hand with a huge smirk on his face. With the photo’s professional editing, his eyes look even more blue than usual, and you may or may not stare at them a second too long.

“Jesus fuck,” you say.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes.

six: did you get my gift?? you: is this for target practice? how sweet six: :( you: baby six: oh it’s like that😏 you: that was an insult

When your phone goes off again after you’ve relegated the rolled-up poster to an end table, you assume it’s Satoru responding. But instead, you find a text from Geto.

suguru geto: Thought about my offer at all?

Great. He waited until the Curses made the championships and just thought he’d try again? You screenshot the text and send it to Satoru.

you: what if i turn on read receipts just for this

six: HAHAHAHA

You won’t, because you’re still planning on taking Geto by surprise on Friday when he realizes you and Satoru are actually together. Your phone rings, and your brow furrows as you realize you don’t recognize the number or the area code.

“Sorcerers management,” you greet, and a high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi there! This is Takada with the Reggie Star Show.” You hesitate for a moment. Reggie’s show is kind of a huge deal, and Takada has become something of a personality herself, although you’ve always found her a bit over the top.

“Uh, how can I help you?” you ask finally.

“So! Reggie would love to invite Satoru Gojo onto the show before the NBA championships.” You stand stock-still in your kitchen.

What the fuck, you mouth silently to yourself. It’s not like Reggie never has athletes on the show. But only Satoru?

“Not the rest of the team?” you clarify, and Takada laughs, a high, kind of shrill sound that has you holding your phone a bit away from your ear.

“Well, you see, we’re hoping to promote the series a bit by pulling the centers from both teams! Mr. Geto has already agreed, so we’d love to interview him and Mr. Gojo together.”

Oh, Jesus.

You are 100% certain this is Mei Mei’s doing. You instinctively want to reject her now, but this isn’t really your call.

“Let me run this by Gojo and the coaches, and I can get back to you, Takada,” you say, hoping that tides her over for now.

“No problem. Thank you!” she chirps, and the line goes dead. You groan, staring at the ceiling. This is not worth the hassle. You swipe to Satoru’s contact and call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” he drawls, and you roll your eyes.

“Asshole. So, guess who just called me?”

“If you say Suguru I’m flying to San Diego early and cornering him in an alley.”

You laugh. “Okay, Jesus. No. Uh, the Reggie Star Show?”

“What?” Satoru screeches.

“They have Geto coming on before championships,” you sigh, “and they want you too. To ‘promote the series’ or whatever. Drama on screen.”

“Mei Mei’s idea?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“I don’t really think I have time, considering… it’s championships and we’re training every day? Yaga would be pissed, probably. Not much of a publicity guy.”

Something in your chest loosens at his words. Truthfully, you really don’t want him to go, to be in a situation where he and Geto can only verbally spar through a guise of political politeness.

“Also, I just… don’t want to?” he says. You grin.

“Good. I was hoping.”

“Aw, don’t want me to launch my television career?” You sink onto your couch as he keeps talking. “That could be a great return on investment for you, you know. You have my autograph now.”

“Shut up. And don’t tell Nobara about this. She’d be so mad at you.”

“Scaryyy,” he says, and he’s not joking. “Come over for dinner?” The change in topic has you smiling as you kick your feet up on the coffee table. “Miki and Gumi are coming. And Yuji.”

“And the dogs?”

“Am I not enough for you?” he scoffs, and you grin.

“Not even close.”

“Yes, the dogs, you heathen.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you say innocently, and hang up on him.

—

Tsumiki meets you at Satoru’s door with a massive grin on her face and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hi!” she says excitedly, ushering you inside.

“Hey, Tsumiki,” you smile, and then there’s a rapid pitter-patter of the dogs rounding the corner into the entryway, and you fall into a pile of fur and kisses. “Hi, buddies! Hi!” Shiro shoves her nose into your face and Kuro plops himself down in your lap right as Satoru rounds the corner.

“Stealing my girlfriend,” he whines.

“Dumbass,” you say, and let him help you up. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and you blush against your will.

“C’mon. Pasta’s ready.” You follow Satoru into the kitchen and find Yuji and Megumi putting plates on the small table. You raise a brow.

“Whose cooking?”

“Whose do you think?” Tsumiki asks.

“I helped!” Yuji insists, pointing to the oven. “I’m making garlic bread!”

Tsumiki pats him on the shoulder and says, “Yes, Yuji, you did a great job.”

You fire off a quick message to Yaga to confirm that it’s okay to reject Takada’s offer, and he responds within two minutes, Please do.

You step out to make the call, and when you come back into the kitchen, Yuji and Tsumiki are giggling at something.

“What are you two on about?” you ask, and Tsumiki, still snickering, hands you her phone. It’s open to a tweet of a grainy computer screenshot, and it says SOMEONE LOOK AT ME THE WAY SATORU GOJO LOOKS AT THE SORCERERS MANAGER PLS PLSPLS

That’s not even the part that gets you. First of all, it’s not from the most recent game—it’s from before you were together. You’re wearing the Limitless shirt.

Second, Kasumi retweeted it.

“Jesus,” you say, and Satoru appears at your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” You swat at him without looking and then pull out your phone to text Kasumi. “I need to tell her before she finds out somewhere else.”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with her name. Your first thought is that she somehow already knows and is FaceTiming you to scream at you. You swipe and her face materializes in front of you, a massive grin on her face and—has she been crying?

“Kasumi! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she practically screams. And then she holds up her hand, and you stare for a long moment before realizing she’s wearing a ring.

“Holy shit!” you screech. “Kasumi!” The grin splits across your face, and she’s laugh-crying on the other end of the phone, and then she abruptly freezes.

And you realize Satoru’s very much visible in the frame behind you.

“Alley-oop,” she says. “You motherf—Alley. Is that—”

You can see the tips of your ears going pink in the camera in the corner of the screen. “Surprise?”

“To you, maybe!” she laughs. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the best day of my life.”

Muta appears beside Kasumi, squinting at the screen. “Tell me it’s because we’re getting married and not because she and Gojo finally banged.” Megumi wrinkles his nose at the other end of the table.

“Kokichi,” Kasumi scolds, but Satoru cracks up behind you and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Congrats, you guys,” you say. “I’m so happy for you. Does Akari know?”

“She’s next on the list,” Kasumi grins.

“We’ll let you go, then,” you say, and take a moment to just appreciate how fucking happy your friend looks. Her blue hair is a mess and her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s glowing. This has been a long time coming. You couldn’t be happier for her, honestly.

When she hangs up, Satoru grins and says, “Aw, basketball romance.” Then he looks pointedly at Yuji and Megumi.

“I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Tsumiki announces. Then she looks at Shiro and Kuro, curled up together on the couch. “Seventh wheel?”

You plop into the chair next to Tsumiki and wrap your arm around her. “Nah, Satoru’s seventh wheeling. I’m here for you.”

She grins, and Satoru falls to his knees and dramatically fakes his own death. The dogs leap off the couch to investigate, and soon he’s laughing as Shiro slobbers all over him while Kuro decides to lay across his legs.

In truth, you don’t remember the last time you felt this content. It’s a nice feeling, warm.

And then a smell hits you, like something burning, and you furrow your brows and turn toward the kitchen. “Is something—”

“Oh my god!” Yuji screeches, practically falling out of his chair and bolting for the kitchen. “The garlic bread!”

—

The results of turning down the Reggie Star offer have, quite possibly, the funniest results of all time.

You’re curled up on Satoru’s couch two days later with your feet on his lap and Tsumiki on your other side, Megumi and Yuji sprawled with the dogs on the floor. On the TV, Todo walks on stage to a cheering studio audience and locks eyes with Takada, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he just passed out right now.

“Simp,” Satoru says. You look at him incredulously. “Okay, hey, I did not say I wasn’t also.” He plants a kiss on your temple and Megumi pretends to gag.

You swear Todo literally has physical stars in his eyes when he looks at her. He shakes her hand with both of his and does a weird half-bow and says, “It’s such an honor, Ms. Ta—“

“Oh, please,” Takada giggles. “Just call me Takada.” Todo goes red again, stammering out a response.

“This is the most painful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Megumi says. He’s only watching this because Yuji wants to.

“Mr. Aoi Todo,” Reggie Star says grandly, throwing an arm around him like they’re already best buds. “Take a seat, take a seat. Thanks again for joining us on such short notice!”

Todo takes his place on the couch while Reggie and Takada sit in opposing armchairs, the background flashing the Reggie Star Show logo as the theme music peters out. Reggie grills Todo with questions about the Samurai-Sorcerers series, playing against Yuji after playing with him in college, all the connections the team has with half of the championship bracket. And throughout, Todo just can’t tear his gaze away from Takada.

By the time it’s over you’re nearly falling off the couch, laughing yourself halfway to tears.

“Guys, it’s cute! He has a crush!” Yuji exclaims, and you all laugh harder. Tsumiki collapses into you, her hair spreading out over the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—one of Satoru’s, blue and black and smelling like him.

After the commercial break, which consisted of an actually absurd amount of Takada promoting various useless products, Todo is nowhere to be found. Geto sits on the couch in his place with a press-worthy smile and a crisp, navy blue suit.

“And here we’ve got the starting center of one of the two NBA teams gunning for the championship title, Mr. Suguru Geto,” Reggie introduces, and the studio audience whoops and cheers as Geto waves them off, smiling modestly. You kind of want to slap him.

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush here, Suguru—you’re going up against the Sorcerers the day after tomorrow, and that means you’re coming face to face with your old teammate, Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo.” Reggie looks pointedly out at the crowd, like they’re in on some big secret, and turns back to Geto. “How do you feel about this match-up, two starting centers with a lengthy history on the court with stakes this high?”

Geto sighs and leans forward a bit in his seat, one elbow on the armrest. “Well, Reggie, Satoru and I go back a long time.” You wrinkle your nose at the sound of his first name in Geto’s mouth. You feel weirdly defensive about it. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we went to high school together and then college, so we’ve been playing basketball together since our early teens.”

Takada chimes in, “That’s quite the bond, going through the most formative parts of your careers together!” You can’t take her seriously, because in your head she’s still winking at the camera and waxing poetic about the merits of some new Japanese skincare line.

Reggie nods, encouraging Geto to go on. “I’ve gotta say, I am looking forward to seeing him again. He’s a hard man to get ahold of these days. It’ll be good to see him, albeit on opposite sides of the court.”

“No, it will not,” Satoru says with a false cheer in his voice, pointing a finger gun at the TV.

“And how do you think your odds are looking for this series?”

“Well,” Geto laughs, “the Sorcerers are talented, I’ll give them that. Clearly, they’ve made it this far. But I will say that the Curses are first seed with home court advantage.” He shrugs. “So do with that what you will.”

Takada glances at Reggie, as if asking permission for something, and he nods. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Geto, there’s another familiar face on the other side of things as well, a former manager of the Curses.”

Geto nods, a wide smile crossing his face, and you feel Satoru tense up beside you. “Oh, we miss her a lot, yes. She’s great at what she does. I keep telling her she should make her way back to San Diego if she feels so inclined.” He laughs, like this is some great ongoing joke.

“Oh, so you two still speak regularly, then?” Reggie asks, intrigued. Your jaw clenches, and Satoru’s hand encloses yours before it can become a fist.

“I just recently paid her a visit out east.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That fucker,” Satoru growls. Your phone buzzes with a message from Ieiri.

my wife: this little man bun bitch

my wife: what if i commit murder. what then

You’re seething, and even Tsumiki is frowning, the lines creasing her face, turning the corners of her mouth down. Paid you a visit? As if you’re friends and he came to catch up with you over coffee, not dropped in on your street in the dark to harass you about a job you don’t want?

“Well, sounds like it’ll be quite the reunion,” Reggie is saying by the time the smoke clears out of your ears enough for you to hear again.

Tsumiki reaches across you to ruffle Satoru’s hair. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

You shoot a quick message back to Ieiri.

you: tbh i’d pay a lot of money to see y’all in a cage match

Reggie and Takada shift to broader questions about the series and you tune out most of the remainder of the segment, irritated when Geto answers one too many questions with Satoru’s name, subtly suggesting that the Sorcerers have none of the grit and discipline the Curses do.

“They’re a fun bunch,” he says at one point. “Like a barrel of monkeys. They just have a good time.” The tone is all fake, smoothed-out public relations, and it makes your blood boil. You know what he’s really implying, that it’s an insult. That the Sorcerers spend all their time hanging off hoops instead of drilling themselves into the ground. You know it’s not true. You’ve watched them work their asses off all year.

“God forbid we know how to have fun,” Satoru snorts, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders just at the sound of his voice.

“You don’t,” you say teasingly, flipping yourself around on the couch so your head lands in his lap. “That’s entirely Kento.”

Satoru gasps and looks down at you. “You take that back. Nanami is the most unfun—“

“Not a word,” Tsumiki says helpfully.

“Everyone in this house hates me! Slander under my own roof!” He digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you, and you squirm out of his grasp and onto the ground, but he follows you. Soon it’s a mess of Shiro and Kuro frantically pouncing on both of you as you squeal for Satoru to let you go, and Tsumiki is definitely filming this whole thing, and it’s all so incredibly domestic and unserious and right that your heart swells in your chest.

Fuck Geto. He can’t get to you here, and he can’t take you away from the team you love.

—

Being in San Diego again is strange. The facilities are familiar, the gyms, the locker rooms, but you’re walking them a different person than you left them, experiencing the same setting in a new context that makes you feel like you’re living in one prolonged moment of déjà vu.

Nobara walks alongside you, bouncing between social media notifications and ranting about the way Geto made the Sorcerers sound on national television last night. Ieiri’s setting up in the training room down the hall, and Yaga’s pulled the guys into the locker room for a quick meeting before they launch into their last practice before the next day’s match.

You keep thinking about Yaga pulling you aside this morning, murmuring a quick warning in your ear. “If you see Mei Mei, no you don’t. Not worth the time. Just slip away.”

So far there’s been no sign of the other manager, and you’re glad for it.

Nobara’s phone starts ringing and she nods at you and peels off, pressing it to her ear and slipping deeper into the building. You lean against the wall, checking your own phone, making sure you don’t have any missed calls or emails.

The side doors open loudly, metal scraping across the floor, and you look up.

Fuck.

It seems Mei Mei doesn’t do her own damn dirty work.

“Oh, hello!” Mahito crows, making his way over to you. You didn’t like him when you worked for the Curses and you don’t like him now, his leering grin too wide for his face, hair tied into three sections behind his back. Him, you know—but you haven’t yet met the man beside him, a lanky, tall guy with oddly wide eyes and a long blond ponytail weirdly off-center on his head.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve done your research, you’ve seen the roster. Haruta Shigemo.

“I hoped you’d be here.” Mahito comes to a stop in front of you as you push off the wall, crossing your arms.

“Mahito.” Your voice is cold, flat.

He frowns, an exaggerated, off-putting gesture. “Thought it’d be a happier reunion,” he says. He holds his arms out toward Shigemo with a flourish. “I’d like you to meet Haruta. He, ah, was something of a replacement for your Six-Eyes.”

Shigemo stares at you, unblinking, a small, close-lipped smile sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how close these two men are to you, that your back is to the wall, that you’re alone in the hallway.

“Look, I really have a lot to get done—”

“Oh, we don’t mean to bother you!” Mahito laughs, high-pitched and manic. “We just wanted to welcome you back home, you know. Make sure you settled in to the old stomping grounds.” He leans in, breath smelling like some odd combination of fruity gum and stale crackers. You shudder involuntarily. “I hope you don’t take it too hard when they lose,” he whispers, too close to your face. “Should you need an out, remember we’re in your corner.”

Shigemo holds a hand up as you’re about to retort, tilting his head and studying you. “If he’s not your type,” he giggles, nodding at Mahito, “I’ve got some time on my hands tonight.”

Your face flushes deep red with anger, fists going white-knuckled at your side. “I do not need—”

“Excuse me,” says a cool, familiar voice, and the tension in your muscles goes slack as Kento comes to stand directly between you and your newfound nuisances. “I believe we’ve already taken care of any business that needed tending to before the match tomorrow, yes? Is there anything else I can help you with? We’re just about to kick off practice, and I’m afraid our time is limited.”

Mahito steps back, holding his arms up in false surrender. “Nanami! Hello!” He grins widely. “We’re representatives, of a sort. Just making sure the bunch of you are settled in.” Shigemo nods and looks Kento up and down, calculating.

“We are just fine,” he says flatly, nudging you with a hand behind his back. You nod at the two Curses players and storm down the hallway toward the gym, heart racing in your chest. Behind you, you hear Kento still talking. “Do tell Mei Mei her… thoughtfulness is noted.”

In the gym, the guys are warming up, and your eyes immediately lock on Megumi, angrily slamming an innocent basketball against the wall, over and over. Yuji dribbles between his knees without looking at his ball, watching Megumi intently.

You don’t see Satoru, and for a moment you’re worried, feeling a little off-balance, until you feel hands on your shoulders, spinning you around. “Well, hello,” he says, and you laugh, dropping your head into his chest.

“Fuck is up with Megumi?” you ask, nodding toward him, and Satoru frowns. You notice now the tension in him, the slight anger in his eyes, an energy like impatience and frustration all around his edges.

“Suguru was fucking with him. Saying shit about Tsumiki. I was dealing with him.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, considering as he looks over your shoulder at Yuji drawing Megumi back onto the court. “He’s such a dick.”

Kento walks in then, making his way straight over to you. “You okay?” he asks, and Satoru’s brows knit together.

“What? Why wouldn’t she—” He turns to you. “Why wouldn’t you be okay? What happened?”

“Mahito,” you say. “Shigemo, too. Fucking pricks.”

Satoru breathes in sharply, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively. “If they put their fucking hands on you—”

“Toru,” you say, the nickname slipping out without your permission. It seems to calm him down a little, makes him look at you steadily. “Kento got them out of the way. And they won’t do anything to me. They’re just doing Mei Mei’s bidding, same as Geto, probably.” You grab his hands in yours, nodding at Kento to say you’ll be okay. He inclines his head and walks away, gathering the rest of the team in the center of the gym.

“They want to get under your skin. Don’t let them."

Your voice is steady and calm, coated with a reassurance you don’t feel. Your nerves are still on high alert, Mahito’s breathing down your neck, Shigemo’s unsettling scrutiny lingering in your mind. But you know they’re not after you. You’re a conduit for them, a way to fuck with Satoru. And you will not let them.

“Don’t let them,” he echoes, sighing, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Remember, flagrantly disgusting display of public affection. Imagine their faces.”

He laughs, loud and bright, and something warm blooms in you at the sound. “God, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You pull back and shove him in the direction of the team. “Now go practice so I can watch you kick their asses.”

He grins at you, does a little half-bow, snapping back into his untouchable, unbothered self. “Anything for you.”

—

There's really no reason for you to have the clipboard in your hands. Every note you’ve taken is committed to memory. You know both team’s rosters inside and out, know every detail of the schedule, what a win or a loss means for the schedule, score projections, all of it. But you need something to do with your hands, so you hold onto it, clicking and unclicking your pen, scribbling in the margins of old brackets, trying to contain all your nervous energy into a manageable space.

And you’re not the only one overflowing with energy. The stadium is alive. The lights are bright, the crowd raucous, the massive hanging scoreboard broadcasting CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWDOWN SPONSORED BY KFC. You don’t think you could eat right now even if someone shoved a bucket of fried chicken into your hands.

“That’s just mean,” Satoru mutters under his breath, gazing up at the advertisement.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

He glances down at you and then across the court, where Geto has been tracking the two of you with searching eyes. Mei Mei hides behind a clipboard as well, though you notice her eyes flickering back and forth, studying Satoru, you, Yaga. You pointedly avoid looking at Mahito and Shigemo. Pricks.

The NBA championship series. Sorcerers versus Curses. It all comes to a head here, an endless rivalry for a championship title.

“So, I’m thinking now or never,” Satoru says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. When you realize what he means, it takes everything in you not to glance across the court at Geto. A smirk spreads across your face, and you grab Satoru’s jersey and pull him toward you.

“Good luck,” you say, and then you kiss him, hard and long and intentional, and you know Geto sees you.

“I think,” Satoru says, pulling back a little breathlessly, “we should do that every game.” He grins and you swat him away, making your way over to Ieiri and Nobara in the far corner, and you can’t wipe the smile from your own face. On the way there you chance a look across the court. Geto isn’t looking at you, but he’s looking at Satoru, talking lowly out of the corner of his mouth to Mei Mei.

Point for me, you think.

“You’re actually nauseating,” Nobara says when you reach her. You know she’s not serious. She knew the plan. She loved the plan.

“I’m making a point,” you say anyway. She follows your tilted head toward Geto and Mei Mei, and you watch the slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, so worth it,” she murmurs.

You tug the headset on and listen to the unfamiliar announcers, wishing it was Zenin and Panda in your ears but settling for the new, faceless voices instead. They’re not the same guys who usually commentated on the home court when you worked for the Curses, and you’re oddly glad about it, that there’s not another reminder of the loaded history here right in your ears.

“Charles Bernard here with Rika Orimoto,” the new voice says, “ready to watch this long-time rivalry play out in real time.”

When she speaks up, Rika’s voice is bright and younger than you expected, animated where Bernard is entirely deadpan. Interesting partnership.

As the starters take their positions, you’re surprised to see that Satoru’s not the one taking the tip-off.

Kento is. And in front of him, eye-to-eye with a sardonic smile, is Mahito.

Ah, shit.

The ref’s expression is flat and unaffected, but his eyes dart between the two shooting guards as they face off in the center of the court. You wish you could hear what they’re saying.

“An unusual choice for both teams here as we kick off this final series,” Bernard says. “Neither of our centers taking the tip-off today.”

Kento shows no emotion as the ref lets go of the ball, and Mahito leaps, but he’s not fast enough.

“Number thirty-seven Kento Nanami swipes the tip-off without hesitation!” Rika announces. “Back to number six, the Sorcerers' Satoru Gojo, and a fantastic pass up to Fushiguro.”

The Curses' hulking point guard, Jogo, is right up in Megumi’s face with a massive hand reaching out to block, but Yuji grabs the rebound and pounds it through the hoop in seconds.

“And the Sorcerers take the lead just sixteen seconds in,” Bernard says. You look over at Ieiri and Nobara, grinning, and then back to where Mei Mei stands with a stony expression across the court.

You feel good about this.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ino is giving Jogo a run for his money, using his speed to dart around the massive point guard before he even sees what’s coming. In his breakaways Yuji keeps finding himself pitted against Mahito, and it seems like it’s always a fifty-fifty whether the block is successful.

“Some subs as we enter the second quarter. On San Diego's side we have Haruta Shigemo on for Fumihiko Takaba.”

“Yuta Okkotsu on for the Sorcerers!” Rika says, a little too excitedly, before she catches herself and calms down.

“Someone has a fangirl,” Nobara snorts beside you, holding just one side of the headset to her ear.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Satoru and Geto as they go up and down the court, always on each other’s heels, breathing hard. It’s personal, and everyone can see it. If they’re saying anything you can’t make it out.

Both teams are going all-out right now, and the fans feel it too. Megumi’s guarding Naoya Zenin like a shadow, something in the air around them tense and constant. You don’t see Yuji’s uncle but you can certainly hear him, somewhere behind you on the visitors’ side, screaming, “HELL YEAH! SHOW THEM WHAT A WIN REALLY MEANS! THESE FUCKERS WOULDN’T KNOW FIRE IF IT LIT UNDER THEIR ASSES!”

You give it two minutes before he’s kicked out.

Inumaki goes on, then Hakari, and at some point the Curses swap Jogo out for Dagon, and it’s go, go, go. You can barely catch your own breath by the half, the game wrapping around you like you’re the one playing it, and Satoru’s drenched in sweat as the team files back to the locker room. He reaches out and pinches you in the side and you stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are.

“Gross,” Nobara says.

The rest of the game goes by in a similar blur of shots and blocks and heated matchups, Toge nailing a few free throws, Takaba coming back on and managing to slip past Megumi only once. The scoreboard never reads more than a six-point deficit.

You almost don’t hear the buzzer when it’s finally over, players skidding to a stop on the court, their heads turned up toward the scoreboard.

“Holy shit,” Ieiri breathes beside you. “We won. We actually fucking won.”

You rip off the headset, the grin overtaking you, relief and pride flooding your veins like a drug, and the rest of the team floods the court in celebration. They beat a first seed team on their home court.

Satoru catches your eye over the mass of people and smiles, and you wave back.

And this is only the beginning.

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songsofadelaide · 8 months ago

Text

"These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath— Taking all of me. We've already done it in my head. If it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?"

Author's Note: Reader is 19. Gojo is three years older.

You know how you have people you call aunt and uncle but you aren't actually related to them? And they're just really good friends with your parents? That's what Satoru's parents were to you. Your mothers were close since they were children and they both pursued modelling as they grew older. While your mom eventually retired from the game and chose a more quiet life with a kind lawyer for a husband, your Aunt Arisu became a famous supermodel and married into a family of old money— the Gojos.

And though your mom got married much earlier since she retired from modelling first, your Aunt Arisu got pregnant right off the bat after her wedding. She was a spoiled little thing, too, always calling for your mom and not so much her husband when her cravings and hormones reared their ugly heads. She often chided your mom to give her child a playmate, but not too late. She hoped to have a pretty daughter so they could wear fancy matching clothes.

Aunt Arisu's son Satoru was three years old when you were born. And while he wasn't the daughter she pined for, she loved him so, so much because he was just as pretty as she always hoped for. He was present when you were born, locked in his mother's arms as she held him out to take a peek at you.

...The story never gets old. Your mother and Aunt Arisu would always be laughing as they got drunk on their sweet wine every two weeks or so, and your family's kitchen was still a mess after hosting dinner for the Gojos again. Your fathers were drinking whiskey and smoking their expensive cigars on the front porch, talking about current affairs and stocks if you knew. And Satoru...

Well...

He was always welcome in your room. He always brought his own toys to play with and sometimes played with yours, too. Satoru was like the older brother you never had, and he was always so sweet to you... That is until you turned sixteen and suddenly, he was way too good for you to hang out with.

You didn't see much of him in the last three years, but you always knew where he was— on the cover of your favourite teen magazine, that soda commercial on TV, fronting promotional material for high-end clothing and expensive mobile phones on social media... All of that made sense. He's the son of modelling royalty, after all. Your childhood friend was the nation's sweetheart now and you're probably just a girl in his boyhood memories.

You didn't bother showing yourself downstairs when the Gojos arrived for your usual dinner date. You couldn't stomach seeing Satoru sitting across from you at the table, his silvery hair and feathery lashes framing his blue, blue eyes, his slender fingers curling around the wine glass that was usually just your mother's and her best friend's... His eyes twinkling in mischief as he calls your name with that voice of his, both so sweet and so sultry...

Why did he push you away back then when he was the one to embrace you first?

That embrace was etched so in your head since you were sixteen, and it was something you always remembered whenever you saw his posts on Instagram, whenever your mother watched his commercials on TV, whenever you've been struggling at high school... And whenever you were alone in your room in your bed— the walls the only thing that could hear you and your thoughts, possibly— as you dove deeper into your inane imagination.

"Toru..."

He wanted you just as much.

...So much that you were crying to yourself, too, thinking of how stupid you were to believe your Aunt Arisu's silly little joke that you were born for her lonely little son to have someone—

The soft knock on your bedroom door was enough to snap you out of your deluded solo flight. You jumped out of your bed without a second thought about how flushed you looked. "I'll be there in a second, mom... Just... a sec!"

Perhaps you should have thought about it first.

"Hey there. Are you... feeling okay?"

Gojo Satoru. As though he stepped right out of your fantasies mere moments ago.

"Uh..."

He wedged his foot on your door as you tried to shut him out in panic. What the hell was he doing here? "Wait a moment. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

And what could he possibly want to talk about now?

When you turned sixteen, Satoru's father sat him down for a conversation. He was told that you weren't just some girl anymore. That you weren't children anymore and that he needed to be more careful around you. Because you were growing into a woman— And because of that, there were certain things you couldn't do together anymore.

"What are you saying, dear? If Toru likes her, then I'm all for it. That girl is my best friend's daughter and a fine young lady! I wouldn't want anyone else for my boy!"

...And it bothered him. A lot. Because it meant he couldn't hold you anymore. And when he did so once out of habit— because your laughter delighted him so much— he pushed you away so hard that you held back tears. He didn't know what came over him back then, but he stopped coming over to your room afterwards.

Satoru couldn't handle the way you avoided his gaze whenever he was around for your family's shared dinner. He realised you must have been finally done with him tonight when you didn't bother showing up at all even though you were just upstairs in your room.

"...ask Toru to call her downstairs! I haven't seen that girl for quite some time now! Has she been..."

"...with university lately. There's this boy, too. Her classmate, I think..."

The older women's conversation faded in his head the moment your mother mentioned a boy— a classmate— and just how close the two of you have grown while you were in university. Good grief. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't.

You were supposed to be his.

He made his way to your room upstairs, his footsteps as soft and quiet as a cat's, and he was ready to talk to you. About everything. About why the last three years were torment for him. About why his father was right to remind him that you weren't children anymore because children wouldn't think the way he did. About why you shouldn't go out with that guy from your uni—

Satoru heard them. The faintest of whimpers from your bedroom. And if he was right in his head, he seemed to have heard his name, too.

He wasn't going to let go of this.

You opened the door with your face still flushed and your clothes all rumpled and you nearly shut him out if didn't think fast enough. You let go of the door and allowed him inside your room, the sound of the locks unheard because of the rush of blood in your ears.

He's going to take what's his. Without so much of an effort, too, by the way you willingly walked into his arms the moment he opened them to receive you.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #i wrote this while listening to ttpd #guilty as sin?#starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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hvlplvss · 1 year ago

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| welcome to the moulin rouge

summary: in which colby’s girlfriend stars in the hit broadway musical, moulin rouge. with little knowledge on the musical, he’s surprised when he first watches it.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, fingering, shower sex, praise, slight degradation, cream pie, hair pulling, slight edging. lmk if i missed anything !!

authors note: for those who haven’t watched moulin rouge, i recommend searching ‘welcome to moulin rouge-west end cast’ to get an idea about it. but if you don’t want to, it’s a musical based on a cabaret club and y/n plays one of the main girls from the club. i highly recommend it if you have never watched it!

y/n had recently been casted as ‘nini’ in one of her top three musicals of all time. moulin rouge. ever since the musical had come out, she’d adored it. knowing that she would love to be in it herself one day.

and that day was here. it was the opening night for the new cast of moulin rouge. she was also performing amongst some of her most favourite broadway performers.

her boyfriend colby and his best friend sam, who she were also really good friends with, had bought tickets for the first public opening show. they decided they might as well buy the most expensive tickets, which were the ones right at the front of the stage, where you got your own little table for two.

in true honesty, y/n had barely spent any time with colby recently. she’d been so busy at rehearsals and taking promotional pictures. so the only time she saw him, was once she arrived home, which was usually later than 11pm.

the boys sat at their table at 7:28pm, waiting for the show to begin. sam turns to colby, “so you have no idea, what this show is about?” sam asked.

colby shook his head in response, “nope. i’ve watched loads of other shows with y/n, but she won’t let me watch this, cause she wants me to see her in the show first,” he explained. “have you seen it?”

sam nodded, “yeah. y/n told me to watch it before we came to see this,” he answered. colby rolled his eyes, but a small smile stuck on his face. but he was slightly confused. how come sam could watch the movie, but he couldn’t?

the lights slightly dimmed, taking colby out of his confused state. aaron tveit, who y/n had spoke about, walked out onto stage and past the two boys, where he stood to the left of them.

aaron looked around the audience, then he looked back to the bright glowing red ‘moulin rouge’ sign. aaron lifted his hands slightly and the sign lifted up, clearing the view of the stage. the music began, a low thudding noise, with a drum every few beats.

aaron disappears off of stage, and a spotlight flashes on the back wall, where there is a silhouette of four girls. colby could recognise one of them immediately.

‘hey sister, soul sister, flow sister’

the curtain they were standing behind lifted, revealing his girlfriend. colby’s eyes widened in shock at what his girlfriend was wearing.

y/n stood there in barely any clothing. it was all lingerie. black to be specific. her hands and arms adorned red velvet gloves which stopped at her bicep. she wore black stockings, which were connected to the black corset like bodysuit by a thin piece of fabric. the corset revealed a great deal of cleavage, and left little to the imagination.

as the four stepped forward beginning to dance, colby didn’t know what to do with himself. his girlfriend dancing half naked on stage in front of hundreds of people.

the dance was as sexual as you could get, grabbing onto your own waist, dropping to the floor. doing anything that was vaguely provocative. and colby still didn’t know how to react.

what really riled him up though was when another character came on stage, someone called ‘the duke’ something like that anyway, colby wasn’t in the right mind set to even focus on that.

y/n had gone over to said character, and in simple words, had to rub herself against him. colby’s eyes stared dead at y/n. he wasn’t mad or annoyed. but he was so jealous.

the interval had just begun and colby still couldn’t stop thinking about you. sam spoke up, “you good there, colby?” he asked.

colby nodded, looking over to his bestfriend, “did you know all about that?” colby questioned.

“what your girlfriend being half naked on stage?” he answered, colby nodded, “well yeah, she’s been showing me behind the scenes things for ages. she wanted all of it to be a surprise for you,” sam added. colby hummed in response, turning back to look at the stage as the show resumed.

colby and sam walked out of the theatre and round to stage door, to meet y/n after the show. when they arrived there was a slight crowd stood there, asking for photos and signatures and what not.

y/n was amongst them, signing playbills and taking photos with fans of the show. colby and sam stood back from the crowd, allowing y/n to take her time. but colby didn’t want to wait. he was desperate for his girlfriend.

after what seemed like forever, the crowd had dispersed, meaning y/n could make her way over to the boys.

“there she is!” sam smiled, hugging y/n and telling her congratulations. she thanked him and then turned to her boyfriend.

y/n reached to kiss colby on the lips. and just from that, she could tell. she knew colby was riled up. y/n grabbed onto colby’s hand, as sam led the way to the car.

the three arrived home not much later, as they opened the door, y/n spoke up, “i’m gonna go shower real quick,” the boys nodded and y/n ran off upstairs.

“i’m probably gonna go to bed now,” colby stated, “it’s already pretty late,”

sam nodded, with a slight eyebrow raise of disbelief. he knew his friend wasn’t going to sleep, he knew exactly what was going on with the boy. but he wished him a goodnight and walked off into the kitchen.

colby walked up the stairs and into his room. he could hear the shower running from the en-suite, which was connected to their room. he could also hear y/n’s light humming of some of the songs from the show.

colby began undressing himself and walked into the shower with y/n. “you know, what you did to me, y/n?” colby suddenly asked.

y/n jumped in shock at the boys voice, “shit colby, you scared me,” y/n smiled, turning to face her boyfriend, taking him all in.

“you know, how i felt? when i was sat there watching you,” he repeated, “seeing you dance against everyone,”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. but colby could tell. it was a habit she always had.

“you think it’s funny? that your boyfriend was sat in the audience with a hard on?” he asked seductively, “it won’t be funny soon,” he said lowly.

colby grabbed his girlfriends cheeks and brought his lips to hers roughly. he held her face with one hand and her lower back with the other.

colby wasn’t playing nice at all. the rough yet passionate kiss was clear enough to say how frustrated he was.

colby’s mouth left hers and began making it’s way down her neck, biting harshly, causing y/n to let out a whimper. “come on, let me hear you,” colby said.

y/n had only seen her boyfriend like this a couple of times. usually when he’s jealous or wound up by something.

“don’t tease, baby,” y/n pleaded.

colby hushed her, “i’m taking my time. just like how i had to sit there for two whole hours, watching you dance about with barely anything on,”

colby grabbed her tit, going back to roughly kissing his girlfriend. y/n let out a moan, but it was sealed by colby, who’s mouth covered hers.

colby let go of her tit and reached down, letting his fingers cascade down y/n’s sides. she arched into his touch, “so needy,” colby spoke against her lips.

his fingers finally reached where she needed him the most. his thumb pressed firmly on her clit, rubbing in circles.

y/n moaned out, leaning her head on colby’s chest, letting the water from the shower run down her back. colby removed his fingers, causing y/n to let out a small whine.

“you’re such a desperate whore, aren’t you?”

“only for you,” y/n answered.

“only for me, huh?” colby smirked, “you’re mine, aren’t you.” y/n nodded, “say it, y/n. say you’re mine,”

y/n removed her head from colby’s chest and looked him directly in his eyes, “i’m yours, colby,”

colby nodded in approval, “good girl,” y/n’s head went back onto colby’s shoulder, as two of his fingers pressed inside her cunt, stretching her out.

y/n stifled a moan. as her boyfriend worked his fingers inside of her, she latched her mouth onto his lower neck, causing colby to groan.

she littered dark purple bruises across his neck and chest, admiring her work after each one. she knew he’d eventually get her back for the mess across his neck as he couldn’t show it all over social media, or else people would talk.

colby could feel y/n approaching her orgasm, so he removed his hand. causing y/n to remove his mouth off of colby, “what-”

colby hushed his girlfriend, “want you to cum at the same time, baby,” he answered.

he aligned his cock with her pussy, letting it glide against her folds, teasing her.

“please colby,” she begged.

“awh, you’re begging now? that’s cute,” he answered.

colby slid his cock in slowly. y/n moaned out and colby let out a low groan, watching the pleasure that washed over his girlfriends face.

he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed his other arm on the back wall of the shower.

after a few seconds, colby began moving his hips. snapping up into y/n, causing her to moan out loudly. her arms clung onto colby’s shoulders, staring directly at him.

she grabbed onto colby’s wet hair, and slightly tugged, causing the boys head to loll back.

“you getting close?” colby asked. y/n nodded, her bottom lip coming between her teeth, “thought so. feel so tight, baby,”

y/n pulled colby in by his hair to kiss him roughly, which made him speed up his hips. colby mumbled against her lips, “cum for me,” he looked at his girlfriend, who stared directly back at him.

colby felt y/n release around him. he wouldn’t last much longer himself. his hips stilled, realising himself inside of y/n.

after a few moments, he removed his cock from her. placing a kiss on her forehead and then a soft one on her lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

she nodded, “are you?”

“i’m more than okay. and i’m so proud. so incredibly proud of you,”

“well, if when you come and watch me perform and it ends up like this, you might have to come watch me a few more times,”

#colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock #sam golbach #smut #moulin rouge

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thekids-onholiday · 12 days ago

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Alright!

Our blog is officially safe to look at again without spoilers!

And

You can look forward to...

December 24th, at 9:05 pm CST

When our project will officially be posted for public consumption.

The project which has been in the making since October 29th...

And here's to hoping you enjoy it as much as we did while making it!

#And it's good so and it cures stress too - Blog posts #None can tell what I can tell ya - Not requests / Mod posts #Well he's eyeing your stockings - Promotions #self promo #promo post #release date officialized!#happy holidays!

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wayward-dreamer · 1 year ago

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New Blood

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Supe!Reader

Word count: 4,750

Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Swearing, angst, SB being an asshole, misogyny, smut: dirty talk, rough sex (like insanely rough, they're supes after all), using powers during sex, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex.

A/N: I got an anon Soldier Boy fic request to write something similar to the Homelander/Stormfront sex scene from 2.05, so here it is. It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I just hope it reads well. I may even be up to writing a part 2. Happy reading! :) @that-sarcastic-writer for your kinktober writers list ;)

Vought never really needed an excuse for a huge party.

With the company gaining more stock in the last few years, there were plenty of things to celebrate. There had been talk recently that there was a chance for them to become an international corporation, as more supes were added to their registry and employees of Vought American were being promoted around the clock. The annual shareholders party kept getting bigger and bigger with every year the company was earning more credibility, and the year of 1984 was the most decked out the foyer on the 40th floor had been in recent times.

The champagne was free-flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were endless as waiters walked through the crowd, and all the shareholders had their attention on the supes in the room. The members of Payback were scattered around, some in deep conversations with the higher-ups in Vought, and others that cared more about finding a way to entertain themselves for the night.

Y/N threw her head back with an exaggerated cackle, taking a sip of her champagne as she turned her face away from the shareholder she was talking to, rolling her eyes. She faced him again, a smile plastered on her face as her hand smoothed down the shoulder of his charcoal suit.

“So, how much control do you have over those powers?” he asked, a slick grin pulling at his lips.

“Well sir, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking… I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love it when things get a little heated,” she replied, as she lifted her hand, a small flame appearing between her thumb and forefinger. Gently, she hovered her fingers close to the skin of his jaw, causing him to jump at the faint burn.

Their eyes met as they both laughed, his hand sliding down her back and resting on her hip. Y/N tried not to show her disgust as she continued to smile, a few more of the shareholders and members of the board joining them, all of them intrigued by the newest supe to join the Vought family.

“You certainly have a better handle on things than those fucking twins,” another one of the suits stated, briefly looking back at the TNT twins across the room before he turned to her, “you’d make a better contribution to Payback than they are right now.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, clinking her glass with his.

In truth, she had no desire to be on the team for any personal gain, but if being a part of it offered greater benefits for her family back home then she was more than willing to do what needed to be done.

Soldier Boy leaned against the high-top table as he sipped his whiskey, his line of vision directly on the woman across the room at the bar, surrounded by all the corporate fuckers that had barely spoken two words to him all night. The only thing he had heard was an earful from Stan Edgar about the last mission he had gone on, but it was all a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. He continued to ignore the man as he stood in front of him, his eyes focused as he watched her, observing her every move as she practically threw herself at all of them.

“We need to do some damage control before you head off to Nicaragua,” Edgar added, stopping as he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. “If you want to stay relevant, Ben, I suggest taking some of my advice on board.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Soldier Boy asked, a quick glance at him before he nudged his chin towards the woman in question.

“Ember,” Edgar replied, curtly. “Y/N. Promising up and comer from Detroit. VPs think she might be a good fit for the team, that we need some new blood around here.”

“My team?” Soldier Boy turned towards Edgar, jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrowed into a glare.

“I believe you mean Vought’s team,” Edgar countered, unfazed by the way the supe was staring him down. “But she’s no one to concern yourself with. Leave that to us.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, taking another sip from the tumbler in his hand as he looked back at Y/N. She stood in the middle, champagne in one hand and cigarette in the other, charming the men that circled her, and even a few women. His scowl deepened as he watched her laugh, show off her powers and flirt with them. They were all hanging on every word she said. Usually it would be him cracking jokes with all the suits, inviting them to after parties with the best drugs, booze and women. They hadn’t even looked his way this entire time.

He didn’t know much about Y/N apart from her supe name, Ember, but there was no way she was getting into Payback, into his team, without his approval. He smirked in as he saw her excuse herself, strutting away from the group with an exaggerated swing of her hips, the tight latex bodysuit accentuating the curve of her ass. He threw back the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on the table as he adjusted the front of his suit, walking away from Edgar and whatever lecture he was about to continue.

The smile grew on his face as he saw her walking down the hallway, the heels of her thigh-high boots clacking against the marble floor. He shook his head as she took one last puff of her cigarette and threw it on the ground, putting it out with the toe of her boot before she made her way to the restrooms.

She definitely needed a lesson about who was in charge around here, and who she needed to impress to be in the team.

Y/N stepped out of the cubicle, blowing a large bubble of her gum and popping it, washing her hands under the gold and ivory tap of the black marble skin. She turned the water off, shaking the drops off her hands before she reached for the paper towels, wiping them thoroughly. She threw the paper in the trash along with her gum, turning on her heel to look at herself once more in the mirror. She placed her hands over her covered chest, pushing her breasts up slightly, giving herself more cleavage in her tight suit before she headed back to the party. She opened the pack she had attached to her hip, taking out her silver cigarette case and opening it, grimacing when she found it empty.

“Fuck,” she breathed, as she snapped it closed and shoved it back in the small pack.

With one last look at her figure in the mirror, she turned towards the door and walked out into the hallway. Her heels clicked against the floors for a couple steps before she stopped abruptly, her sight fixed on the man leaning against the wall, who’s own eyes drifted up the length of her body, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he placed a cigarette between them.

“Got a light?” he asked, winking.

With a playful roll of her eyes as she clicked her fingers, a tiny flame igniting. He leaned forward, the tip of the cigarette burning as he inhaled, pulling it out as he blew the smoke out in rings. Their eyes met as neither of them made the move to step aside, staring each other down. Y/N knew exactly who he was, and she even had a feeling she knew what he wanted, but there was no way he was going to get it so easily. She wasn’t going to hold out completely, she was far too curious about him for that to happen.

“Ember… right?” he inquired, even though he already knew.

She gave him a firm nod, boldly reaching for the cigarette between his fingers and placing it to her lips, taking a large drag herself. She blew it out slowly, right in his face, slightly annoyed that he didn’t react. “Whatever you want, Soldier Boy… you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“Oh come on, doll, I just wanna talk,” he reasoned, shifting closer to her as he gazed into her eyes.

“I have a name,” she stated, her features void of any emotion. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever he was trying to do.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and husky as he uttered the word.

She felt a shiver run down her back as she heard him speak her name, but she tried not to show the sudden effect he had on her. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we talk?” he asked, nudging his chin in the direction behind her. “Somewhere private.”

She took another pull from the cigarette, blowing it out as she dropped it on the ground, putting it out with her boot again. She glanced up at him with a smile, tilting her head with curiosity. “Only if you got something stronger.”

His smirk widened as he offered her his arm, waiting for her to take it. She lifted her eyebrows in an amused, silent ‘really?’, before she stepped forward, her heels echoing on the floors as she walked towards the elevators. She stepped in and waited for him, feeling her stomach turn as he pressed the last button, ‘50’ for the penthouses. They stood in silence as the elevator moved up the floors, but she was very aware of his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. The doors opened to the 50th floor, letting them walk out into the short hallway to the door that had “Soldier Boy” in shiny gold letters. He tapped in a few numbers into the keypad, the green light allowing him to open the wooden door into his loft.

Y/N sauntered in, taking in the décor around her and noting the theme was of course the same as his look and aesthetic. Dark shades of green in the rug and the cushions on the black leather couch, gold flakes in the black marble of the bar in the corner of the room, a gold bust of a Bald Eagle with its wings spread as the centerpiece on the surface. It was his all-American hero persona all over the apartment, and if she wasn’t itching to find out what he wanted she’d be impressed. She watched as he walked over to the bar, his suit tight and accentuating all the right parts of him. He picked the decanter filled with bourbon and poured a generous amount into two tumblers, reaching under the bar to retrieve the small bag of coke he always kept there.

“So… you wanted to talk?” she asked as she wandered over to the bar.

“All that fun you were having back there…” he started, as he made short lines of coke with his knife across the top of the bar. “It’s a fucking problem, and we’re gonna do something about it.”

Their eyes locked briefly as he offered her the rolled up dollar bill, before she bent down and snorted the first line, throwing her head back to inhale it properly. She did the same with her left nostril, wiping up the remaining powder that had fallen on her lips and rubbing it on her gums. She picked up the tumbler and took a sip, moving away from the bar and taking in the view from the floor-to-ceiling window.

“The crab cakes were fucking better than this coke; not such a crime to enjoy that,” she stated.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, sugar.”

She turned around, staring him down as he did the same with her, both trying to figure each other out and as quickly as possible. The air around them was thick with tension, and it was going to go one of two ways.

“I wasn’t doing anything other supes haven’t done,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders. “Give these guys a great pair of tits and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of and they’re drooling like dogs with a fucking bone.”

His expression was blank, completely unimpressed with her pretense. He leaned down towards the bar, pinching the side of his nose as he dragged it across the surface, snorting up the white substance. He leaned back as he sniffed, humming softly as his eyes opened, glancing back at her with a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you’re tryin’ to get outta those shareholders back there, tryin’ to convince them by letting them put their hands all over you… they just want a couple hours between your legs and won’t give you what you want.”

“And you know what I want?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“You want to join Payback,” he replied, as he walked towards her, slowly. “And there’s only one way you can.”

“Really?” she scoffed. She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, knowing what he was implying, but choosing to rile him up. “How?”

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” he thew back, his features pulling into a deep glare. She was hitting a nerve already.

“No, what’s obvious… is that you’re fucking jealous of all the attention being on me,” she replied, calmly. She squared her shoulders, unafraid of him even as he stood taller than her. “You can’t stand the fact that someone might take your spotlight. That you don’t get a say about what happens with Payback anymore. Everyone knows Noir’s the only valuable player for Vought. The rest of you… you’re gonna end up C-listers, with crummy deals at amusement parks and running Herogasm into the fucking ground.”

“Watch it, Y/N,” he warned.

“And as for you…” she chuckled. The sound was almost evil. “You know they’re all just humoring you, right? Countess, the twins… I mean fuck, even Edgar just gives you shit to do so he doesn’t actually have to deal with you. He’s probably got a replacement lined up for you already.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched as he scowled down at Y/N, reaching forward and grasping her arm in his tight grip. The glass fell out of her hold, shattering on the floor as he pinned her hand to the wall behind her, pressing his body into hers to keep her from escaping. She growled as she struggled against his strength, lifting her free arm to swipe at him, but he was too quick for her, repeating the action and holding it to the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavily as her forearms started to heat up, her skin covered with an orange glow. He grunted as it singed the flesh of his palms, but he made no move to let her go.

“Are we gonna fight or fuck this out? ‘Cause I’m getting some really mixed signals here,” she snapped between gritted teeth.

The heat under his palms became overwhelming, causing him to step back as he groaned. Y/N raised her curled fist, ready to strike him but a gasp escaped her as he pushed her back against the wall once more, his hand around her neck. Their gazes locked as they glared at each other, an eerie silence falling between them, both of them waiting to see what the other was going to do. It seemed they both had the same thought, their lips meeting in a rough, searing kiss as her hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their mouths moved together, each of them fighting for dominance over the other, her grip tightening as she tried to get control over him. She bit down on his bottom lip, her teeth nipping the skin hard, a growl leaving him as he pulled back. He swiped his thumb across his lips to check if he was bleeding, seeing a spot of crimson on the tip.

“Oops,” she whispered, smirking at him.

“Is that all you got?” he questioned, his eyes darkening as he pressed down on her neck.

She wheezed slightly, chuckling as she scowled up at him. “I don’t think you want to see my worst.”

She lifted her hand, the tips of her fingers lighting up with embers, slowly developing into small flames. She raised an eyebrow as they continued to look at each other, the flames diminishing as he eased his grip, his hands landing on her hips. He turned her around and slammed her down on the bar, the decanters of liquor falling off the surface from the force of her landing and smashing on the ground. Their lips met again, just as rough and frantic as before, their hands snatching at each other’s suits trying to get them off. He pulled down the zipper of her latex bodysuit, peeling it off her shoulders and down to her hips, his mouth traveling down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts, his teeth nipping harshly at her skin. She let out a guttural moan as her hand pulled at his soft hair, a frustrated growl escaping him as she forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I think I’d rather have that mouth between my legs,” she ordered.

He snatched her hand away, gripping it tight between his fingers, slowly twisting it back as his green orbs blazed with anger. “I don’t get on my fucking knees for anyone, doll.”

“Too hard at your age?” she mocked, cackling.

Soldier Boy glared down at Y/N as he pulled her fingers back, a harsh grunt passing her lips at the force, fearing he would snap them clean off. She squared her shoulders, tugged her hand out of his grasp, pressing both of them against his clothed chest and pushing him back with all her strength. He yelled as he skidded across the marble floor, his back hitting the leg of the dining table, causing it to shift back several inches. He stared back at her as his rage continued to grow, watching as she sauntered over to him, half-naked, the broken glass on the ground crunching under her heeled boots. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she wriggled her fingers, small embers turning into short flames as she rubbed them together, taunting him.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he threatened, slowly rising to his feet.

She moved closer to him, tilting her head so that her mouth was inches from his. “Let’s see you fucking try.”

She reached for the tactical vest he was wearing, unbuckling it quickly before ripping open the gathered collar of his suit just as fast. He flicked her hands away, grabbing her by her hips and taking control, turning around and pushing her down on the table. She grinned wickedly as her face pressed into the wooden surface, letting his hands roughly peel her suit down her body, her boot-clad legs and tossing it aside once it fell around her feet. He removed the top of his suit, kicking her legs apart as he unzipped his pants, stroking himself as he lined up to her entrance. He placed his hand between her thighs, his fingers feeling how wet she was already, bringing a smirk to his face as he brought them to his mouth and sucked at her arousal.

In one quick thrust of his hips, his cock was sheathed by her walls, a loud moan escaping her as she felt the stretch. He wasted no time, setting a brutal pace to his thrusts, fucking into her hard and fast. He grunted as his fingernails dug into the skin of her hips, his pelvis smacking against the curve of her ass as he continued to pound into her. The table shook under their weight, the creaking getting as loud as the sounds of pleasure coming from both of them, the wood starting to crack at the legs.

A squeal left her as one of the legs gave way, the table tilting as it broke from the force of their rigorous movement. He caught her in his arms just in time, her back pressing into his bare chest as he pulled her back. She laughed as she shook her head, rolling it back onto his shoulder as his hand slid up the front of her body, his fingers curling around her neck. She moaned wantonly as he applied pressure, his hips unrelenting as he felt the way she clenched around him so perfectly.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her hips to keep her close. “Stretched so perfect around my-”

She reached back and smacked her palm around his mouth, rasping short breaths leaving her. “Shut up.”

He suddenly pulled out of her, causing her to whine at the loss of him. He grabbed her by her arms and walked her towards the wall, pushing her up against it. He held both her wrists together in one hand against her back, leaning over her as he smirked, his cock teasing her folds.

“You fucking ass,” she muttered, sending him a glare over her shoulder. “Just put it back in.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That kind of talk’s not gonna cut it if you get on my team, Y/N.”

His deep and husky voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and he no doubt noticed. “Last I heard, it’s not your decision.”

“You couldn’t be more fucking wrong, doll,” he whispered, the words sinister as he leaned further into her.

He took hold of his cock and pushed back into her, his head tilting back with a grunt as he felt her walls around his shaft once more. A loud whimper fell from her lips as he kept the same pace as before, his hold still on her wrists as his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pressed her against the wall. She tried to free her hands from his grasp, but he was far stronger than her. He was the strongest of all supes, so it wasn’t a surprise. She had caught him by surprise a couple of times, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“You like that, sugar?” he asked, smirking as he nuzzled his nose along her jaw. “Like the way my cock fucks you hard and fast, fucking deep into your tight little pussy…”

“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to ignore his words. She couldn’t let him know just how much she was truly basking in the feel of him inside her. “I-I…”

“Come on, doll, use your words,” he taunted, his breath fanning against her ear. “You’re gonna cum so hard on my dick, I can feel it. I can feel the way you’re squeezing around me right now, it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

She whimpered as she tried to hold herself back, but he was right. She was already close and she needed that euphoric release from him more than her own dignity in that moment. She managed to tug her hands out of his hold, one of them reaching up and cupping his jaw tight. She dug her nails into his skin, a pained growl coming from him as embers singed his flesh. He recovered quickly, the skin healed as he lifted both her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head, his hips smacking harder against her. She moaned as she felt the heat blaze deep in her core, the coil ready to snap at any moment.

“Better play nice, Y/N,” he husked, holding her hands in a death grip as he pressed his forehead against the side of hers. “Be a good girl and I just might take you in… I can fuck that attitude outta you everyday, it’ll be our little secret…”

She felt him deep inside, the head of his cock pressing against the wall of her cervix with each thrust. She turned her head back to stare up into his green orbs. His pupils were blown wide from the drugs and the pleasure coursing through him, and she knew they both couldn’t hold on much longer. One hard snap of his hips against her had her cry out, her walls contracting around him.

“Fuck, please,” she panted. “Please make me cum.”

He grinned as he heard the desperation in her voice. He knew he had her.

“Cum for me, doll,” he groaned, one of his hands slipping down her arm and into her hair, tugging the strands tight between his fingers. “Fucking soak my cock.”

Soldier Boy’s words were all Y/N needed to push her over the edge. A string of moans turned into a loud shriek as she felt the coil snap, her arousal covering his shaft. His own release wasn’t much further behind her, his neck strained back as his cock pulsed inside her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him, spurts of seed coating her walls. He breathed heavily, trying to come down from his high as he pulled out of her, turning away to pick up the top of his suit and dress himself. She hissed as she felt the ache between her legs, pressing her thighs together to keep his cum in. She moved away from the wall, finding her suit on the floor and picking it up. She got ready quickly, zipping herself up and fixing her hair before she faced him.

They stared at each other as she felt his seed inside her, her mind making a quick note to stop at the restrooms again before heading back to the party. She spotted his drink still sitting on the bar and walked over, ignoring his gaze as she moved past him. She picked up the drink, turning around and finally meeting his eyes.

“I don’t need your approval to be in Payback,” she began, tossing back the amber liquid in one shot. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Mr. Edgar.”

“You’re wasting your fucking time with him, Y/N,” he stated, glaring back at her.

She scoffed, sauntering over to him, her heeled boots echoing on the marble floors. She looked up at him, a silence falling between them once more as they continued to figure each other out. A mischievous smile pulled at her lips as she lifted her hand, round and small embers glowing on her fingers as she smacked his cheek. He jolted slightly at the brief sting against his skin, causing her to giggle as she stepped back, relishing in the way he scowled at her.

“See you around, Ben.”

Without another glance at him, she left the glass on the bar and walked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. Soldier Boy shook his head, his rage getting the better of him as he picked up the glass and threw it across the room, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces as it hit the wall. He had no desire to return to the party, his mood completely soured now, thanks to her.

He picked up the bottle of bourbon and the bag of coke, walking back into his room. They’d be a better use of his time than talking to any of those fucking suits at that party.

Six weeks later, Y/N AKA Ember was named the newest member of Payack. She accepted the new position and all the congratulations with a huge smile on her face, shaking the hands of her new teammates and bosses, members of the board and shareholders in Vought American, soon to become Vought International.

No matter how wide she grinned, however, she couldn’t enjoy the accolade. It was all tarnished by the events that came before, in honor of Soldier Boy’s heroic sacrifice in a nuclear blast. She wanted to be able to rub it in to him, making him jealous of all the attention she was getting and get him riled up, in hopes they’d have a repeat of what happened that night of the shareholders’ party.

It was a strange feeling, to wish that he was there. She just had a feeling that Vought wasn’t being completely honest about what happened to him. She couldn’t think about that, though.

She had a country to protect, people to save, and an image to uphold in order to help her family. That had always been her top priority.

No matter how much the greatest supe of all time plagued her thoughts.

Join my taglist(s)! If you’re crossed out I couldn’t tag you :(

Forevers: @hintsofhoney // @makeadealwithdean // @writercole // @flamencodiva // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @foxyjwls007 // @maliburenee // @waynes-multiverse // @weepingwillowphoenix // @kyjey // @leigh70 // @savagemickey03 // @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone // @agentorange9595 // @buckybarnes-1917 // @lunarmoon8 // @stoneyggirl2 // @hobby27 // @sweetcyanidemilkshake // @envyaurora95 // @jassackles // @ircngirl //

The Boys: @lacilou // @kazsrm67 // @smellingofpoetry // @krazykelly // @nancymcl // @quincessimus //

Soldier Boy: @emoryhemsworth // @spnwoman // @akshi8278 // @katelyn--renee // @candy-coated-misery0731 // @deans-spinster-witch // @deans-baby-momma // @mariaenchanted // @globetrotter28 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @lyarr24 // @stephv213 // @perpetualabsurdity // @lessons-of-red // @redbarn1995 // @xlynnbbyx // @recoveringpastaaddict // @maggiegirl17 // @rebeccathefangirl // @ladysparkles78 // @sl33pylilbunny // @smolone88 // @chernayawidow // @deansbbyx // @ultimatecin73 // @solariklees

#reader request #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader One Shot #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Soldier Boy Smut #Soldier Boy One Shot #Soldier Boy Fanfiction #The Boys Smut #The Boys One Shot #The Boys Fanfiction #Soldier Boy #the boys tv

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tosomeonessomeone · 11 months ago

Text

Let me teach you.

words・8k /pairings・Lee know x reader / genres・fluff, humor / warnings・ none

In a dimly lit meeting room at JYP Entertainment, Stray Kids gathered for a crucial discussion about the possibility of expanding their promotions into English-speaking markets. JYP, wearing a serious expression, addressed the group.

"Stray Kids, as we contemplate reaching international audiences, it's imperative to tackle the language barrier," JYP began, his gaze focused on the members. "Particularly, we need to address Minho's English proficiency."

Minho couldn't help but let out a subtle, resigned sigh. He knew what was coming.

"I've decided to bring in an English teacher for the group," JYP continued, sensing the mixed reactions in the room. "Enhancing your language skills is crucial for effective communication during promotions."

Minho, with a touch of sarcasm, muttered, "Great. Just what I always wanted - English classes."

The comment elicited a few chuckles from the members, and even JYP couldn't help but crack a small smile.

Bang Chan, exchanging a quick glance with Felix, whispered, "Looks like our Korean-English dictionary days are over."

Felix, smirking, replied, "Guess we're free from the classes."

JYP, sensing the humor in the room, redirected the focus. "Minho, it's essential for the team. This will help us connect better with international audiences."

Minho, rolling his eyes, mumbled, "Fantastic. I feel like I'm going to die."

Hyunjin, unable to contain his laughter, chimed in, "Minho, you won't die. It's just English class."

As the room filled with laughter, JYP made an announcement, "Now, Bang Chan and Felix, I'm exempting you from the classes. You'll serve as personal support to help others if needed."

Bang Chan, sharing a smirk with Felix, remarked, "Looks like we're still the language bridge."

Felix, grinning, added, "Lucky us."

The laughter continued, but Minho couldn't shake the feeling that the impending English lessons were unavoidable. As the group bantered, the decision to hire an English teacher marked the beginning of a new chapter for Stray Kids in the global music scene.

As you walk into the JYP Entertainment building, the receptionist directs you to Mr. Park's office. Nervously, you approach, and to your surprise, he stands up, extends a hand, and warmly greets you.

JYP: Welcome! We're thrilled to have you on board. I've heard great things about your work in linguistics.

You: Thank you, Mr. Park. I'm excited to contribute.

JYP leads you down a corridor, sharing stories about Stray Kids and the global impact they hope to achieve. He stops in front of a door, opens it, and gestures for you to enter.

JYP: This will be your classroom. We've set it up with everything you requested.

You step inside, and your eyes widen. The room is spacious, neatly arranged desks facing a large whiteboard. There's even a shelf stocked with books.

You: Oh, this is perfect. Thank you so much.

JYP: Anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. We want you to feel comfortable.

As you settle in, JYP leaves you to organize your materials. Later, a staff member brings in a stack of books you requested, and you're impressed by the efficiency.

You spend some time arranging the room to your liking, imagining the upcoming English lessons with Stray Kids. The door opens, and JYP pokes his head in.

JYP: How's everything coming along?

You: It's fantastic, thank you. I appreciate the support and the resources provided.

JYP: Great to hear. We believe in giving you the tools you need to succeed.

He leaves you to finalize your preparations, and as you look around the classroom, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills the air. This is the beginning of a unique journey, and you can't wait to share your linguistic expertise with Stray Kids.

*your pov*

As I stepped into the classroom that JYP Entertainment had prepared for my English classes with Stray Kids, I couldn't help but be amazed. The room was well-lit, spacious, and equipped with all the resources I needed – a teacher's dream come true.

I looked at the neatly arranged desks, the large whiteboard, and the shelf stocked with books. It felt like the perfect environment to foster effective learning. The attention to detail showed the commitment of JYP to make this experience worthwhile for both me and Stray Kids.

Despite the excitement, a subtle nervousness lingered in the background. Meeting idols was an entirely different ball game compared to my interactions with university professors. I chuckled to myself, finding it amusing how I, usually composed and confident among colleagues, felt a twinge of nervousness at the prospect of working with Stray Kids.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that they were just individuals passionate about music, like any other students I had taught. Yet, the thought of sharing a classroom with idols who had achieved international fame made my heart race a bit.

As I went through the lesson plans and materials, the nervous energy slowly transformed into a mix of anticipation and curiosity. I wondered how our dynamic would unfold in this unique educational setting. Regardless of the initial jitters, I was determined to make the English classes not only educational but also an enjoyable experience for Stray Kids. After all, language learning should be as dynamic and exciting as their music.

As I stood in the impeccably prepared classroom, my nervousness was exacerbated by the thought that perhaps my outfit was a tad too much for the occasion. I looked down at my tailored dark brown high-waist pants, the cream turtleneck elegantly tucked in, paired with dark brown ankle boots – a complete ensemble that leaned heavily into the dark academia aesthetic.

My round glasses, chosen for their practicality, unintentionally contributed to the whole 'bookish' vibe. I couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the irony. Amongst idols who often wore stylish and trendy outfits, I felt like I had walked into the scene of a classic literature lecture rather than an English class with Stray Kids.

Taking a moment to compose myself, I reminded myself that professionalism was key, regardless of my own self-perceived fashion choices. As I prepared for the arrival of Stray Kids, I hoped my nervousness would soon be overshadowed by the excitement of the teaching journey ahead.

*Stray kids pov*

Lost in your thoughts, you were adjusting the materials on the desk when the door swung open. One by one, the members of Stray Kids walked into the classroom, each bringing a burst of energy that seemed to fill the room.

Hyunjin's playful banter echoed through the room as he took a seat, while Bang Chan entered with a calm confidence, giving you a reassuring nod. Seungmin and Jeongin followed suit, completing the ensemble. As they settled into their seats, you realized that the nervousness that had gripped you earlier was slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of eagerness to begin this unique educational journey with Stray Kids.

As each member of Stray Kids filed into the classroom, their eyes widened in surprise at the sight of such a young academic teacher. You, with your tailored dark academia outfit and round glasses, exuded a sense of youthful sophistication that left the boys momentarily taken aback.

Felix couldn't help but flash a friendly smile, instantly charmed by your presence. Changbin, usually composed, found himself subtly impressed by the elegant coordination of your outfit. Hyunjin, known for his keen sense of style, couldn't help but appreciate the aesthetic appeal you brought to the classroom.

As the members settled into their seats, Minho, in particular, struggled to hide his surprise. He felt a mixture of awe and anxiety, not only at the youthful appearance of the teacher but also at the realization that he was about to dive into English classes—a subject that had always been a bit challenging for him.

Seated at his desk, Minho stole glances, attempting to process the unexpected combination of a young academic instructor who, besides being knowledgeable, also possessed an undeniable beauty. He pondered how such an elegant presence would navigate the dynamics of teaching Stray Kids, especially when language proficiency was at the core.

While the boys were captivated by your appearance, there was an underlying sense of curiosity about how the upcoming English classes would unfold. As the initial surprise settled, they couldn't help but wonder how this unique blend of youth, beauty, and academic prowess would shape their language learning journey.

*end of povs*

You stand at the front of the class, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. Clearing your throat, you begin, "Hello everyone. My name is [Your Name], I'm 29 years old, and I'm from [Your Birthplace]. Professionally, I work in linguistics."

You can feel their eyes on you, and a few polite smiles greet your introduction. It's your turn to guide them through this language journey.

"Now, let's practice introducing ourselves. How about we start with Bang Chan? Can you tell us your name, age, where you're from, and what you do?" you prompt.

Bang Chan, with a confident smile, responds, "Sure. I'm Bang Chan, 26 years old, from Sydney, Australia. I'm the leader of Stray Kids."

You nod in approval, impressed by his fluency. Then, turning to Felix, you ask, "And how about you, Felix?"

Felix, grinning, says, "I'm Felix, 23, from Sydney too. I'm a rapper and dancer in Stray Kids."

You can't help but appreciate their smooth English. "Great job, both of you. Now, even though you two are already fluent, I appreciate you being here for moral support. It'll be helpful for everyone."

Bang Chan nods, "Absolutely, we're here to help however we can."

You guided the introductions smoothly, starting with Chanbin, who confidently stated his role as the main rapper in Stray Kids.

"Sure thing. I'm Chanbin, 24 years old, from South Korea. I'm the main rapper in Stray Kids," he announced with assurance.

Then, Hyunjin, the lead dancer, followed suit with a friendly introduction.

"Hey, I'm Hyunjin, 23, also from South Korea. I'm the lead dancer," Hyunjin greeted with a warm smile.

When it came to Minho's turn, his nervousness was palpable as he stuttered through his introduction, mentioning his roles in both rapping and singing.

"Um, I'm Minho, 25, from South Korea too. I, uh, rap and sing," Minho nervously expressed, his words stumbling slightly.

Despite his unease, you praised Minho's effort before moving on to I.N, the maknae and lead vocalist, who greeted the group with a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm I.N, 22, from South Korea as well. I'm the maknae and lead vocalist," I.N introduced himself cheerfully.

Seungmin chimed in next, his voice steady and confident. “I’m Seungmin, 22, from South Korea. I’m the main vocalist,” he introduced himself smoothly.

Han followed, his tone calm and collected. “I’m Han, 22, also from South Korea. I’m the main rapper and producer,” he stated with a nod.

With the introductions completed, Bang Chan raised his hand slightly, seeking your attention.

"Can I ask you something, [Your Name]?" Bang Chan inquired.

"Of course, Bang Chan. What's on your mind?" you responded, curious about his question.

Bang Chan, looking intrigued, remarked, "You seem really knowledgeable about linguistics. Why did you decide to study it?"

Explaining your passion for language, especially phonetics and phonology, you shared how understanding sound production and linguistic patterns fascinated you. As you delved deeper into the subject during your undergraduate studies, your interest only grew stronger.

Impressed, Bang Chan nodded, acknowledging the depth of your interest. "That's really cool. I can see how that knowledge would be valuable for teaching English," he remarked.

"Absolutely," you replied with enthusiasm. "It's my pleasure to share what I've learned and make language learning enjoyable for everyone."

As the English classes progressed, you couldn't help but notice a stark contrast in the language abilities of the Stray Kids members. While most of them exhibited decent English skills, one stood out – Lee Minho. Despite his efforts, Minho struggled with English more noticeably than the others.

Throughout the first couple of weeks, you worked hard to foster a friendly and supportive environment in the classroom. The other members responded positively, forming a fellowship that made the learning process enjoyable. However, Minho remained distant, his struggles with English creating a barrier between him and the rest of the group, including you.

As the end of another class approached, you made a decision. It was time to address the elephant in the room and reach out to Minho. Taking a deep breath, you approached him as the others filed out of the classroom.

"Minho, can I have a word with you?" you asked gently, noticing the hint of apprehension in his eyes.

Minho nodded, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"So, I've been thinking" you began, your tone gentle yet earnest. "I understand that English might be challenging for you, and I want to support you in the best way possible."

Minho listened intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I believe that with some extra attention and tailored guidance, we can make significant progress in your English proficiency" you continued, offering him a reassuring smile. "Would you be open to having extra classes where we can focus more on your individual learning needs?"

Minho hesitated for a moment, processing your suggestion. Then, with a nod, he replied, "I think that could really help. Thank you for offering."

You felt a surge of relief and determination knowing that Minho was willing to take the extra step to improve his English skills. Together, you discussed a schedule for the additional classes, ensuring that they would fit seamlessly into his routine without overwhelming him.

With a sense of purpose and optimism, you left the conversation knowing that you had taken a significant step toward helping Minho unlock his full potential in English. As you prepared for the extra classes, you were filled with determination to support him every step of the way on his language learning journey.

After several weeks of dedicating extra time to Minho's English improvement, you realized that traditional methods weren't fully engaging him. Determined to find a way to connect with him, you decided to bring a different approach to the table.

As you entered the classroom, Lino, your lovely cat, nestled comfortably in your arms. Today, you planned to make him the main topic of conversation, knowing that Minho had a fondness for cats and hoping to bridge a connection between him and the subject matter.

"Good morning, Minho" you greeted warmly as you set Lino down on the desk. "Today, we have a special guest joining us."

Minho's eyes lit up with surprise and curiosity as he looked at the fluffy feline.

"Meet Lino" you continued, patting the cat's head gently. "He's here to help us practice English today."

Minho's gaze shifted between you and the cat, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Did you know," you began, "that Lino's name sounds a lot like your stage name?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Minho's lips as he considered the connection.

"Oh, I’m honored.” he smiled.

Encouraged by his response, you delved into a discussion about cats, weaving in English vocabulary related to pets and animals. Minho's engagement grew with each topic you introduced, his confidence in speaking English gradually blossoming in the comfortable and familiar context of his love for cats.

As you conducted the English class, your cat, Lino, decided to make his presence known in an unexpected way – by gravitating towards Minho more than you, much to your amusement.

Minho chuckled as Lino curled up beside him, earning an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "Lino likes me." he remarked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Seems like it! He must sense that you're a cat person."

Minho smiled, his demeanor relaxed and comfortable as he continued to stroke Lino's fur. "I am," he admitted. "I have three cats back home – Soon, Dong, and Dori."

"Three cats? That's wonderful." you replied, genuinely intrigued. "What are they like?"

Minho's face lit up as he began to describe each of his furry companions, his English still a bit basic but improving with each sentence. "Soon is playful, always chasing after toys. Dong is more laid-back, loves cuddling. And Dori, well, Dori is the mischievous one, always getting into trouble."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you listened to Minho speak about his cats. Despite the occasional mix of Korean and basic English constructions, his enthusiasm and willingness to communicate in English were clear signs of progress.

"That's amazing, Minho." you remarked, unable to hide the happiness in your voice. "Your English is really improving. Keep up the great work!"

Minho's smile widened, a sense of pride evident in his expression. "Thank you" he said sincerely. "I'm trying my best."

As time passed and the English classes continued, you found yourself forming a beautiful friendship with Minho that went beyond the classroom. He became more comfortable around you, showing his playful and "crazy" side, which only deepened your bond.

"You're such a goofball, Minnie," you teased, using the secret nickname you had created for him.

Grinning, Minho leaned closer. "And you are too serious, pumpkin " he replied, using the adorable nickname he had bestowed upon you.

The nickname exchange became a cherished secret between the two of you, a symbol of the special bond you shared. Whenever you were alone inside the class, you would affectionately refer to each other as pumpkin and Minnie, a reminder of the friendship that had blossomed between you.

As the days went by, the other members of Stray Kids continued to address you as "[Your Name] Noona," a term of endearment that filled you with warmth and affection. But it was the secret nicknames shared between you and Minho that held a special place in your heart, a testament to the unique connection you had forged through laughter, learning, and friendship.

As the members of Stray Kids gathered in the practice room, their attention gravitated towards the budding connection between you and Minho during the English classes. Whispers and curious glances circulated among them as they observed the growing closeness.

Hyunjin leaned in, breaking the silence with a whisper, "Have you guys noticed how [Your Name] Noona and Minho have been getting along lately?"

Felix nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they seem really comfortable around each other."

Chanbin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And did you hear those secret nicknames they were using? 'Pumpkin' and 'Minnie'?"

Seungmin chuckled softly. "It's like they have their own little world."

Bang Chan smiled, acknowledging the connection. "They do seem to have a special bond. It's nice to see."

Han nodded in agreement. "They're always laughing and joking together. It's obvious there's something more than just friendship."

I.N's curiosity peaked. "Do you think they're dating?"

Bang Chan shrugged thoughtfully. "It's hard to say, but there's definitely a connection between them."

Hyunjin grinned mischievously. "I bet they're secretly planning romantic dinners and long walks on the beach."

Felix rolled his eyes playfully. "Hyunjin, don't be ridiculous."

Chanbin interjected with a thoughtful tone. "Whatever it is, they seem happy together. And that's all that matters."

As the conversation continued, the members couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed something special brewing between you and Minho. Whether it was a budding romance or simply a deep and meaningful friendship, one thing was for certain – the bond between you and Minho was undeniable, and it brought warmth and joy to everyone around you.

One day as the scorching sun beat down relentlessly, you braved the extreme heatwave to attend the English class with Stray Kids. Determined to maintain your signature vintage and classy style despite the weather, you opted for a mid-length summer dress with a vintage flair. The dress flowed gracefully around you, its light fabric providing a semblance of relief against the oppressive heat.

Paired with your favorite classy flats, you embraced the academia aesthetic that you adored. The outfit exuded elegance and sophistication, a reflection of your personal style and commitment to looking your best even in the sweltering heat.

As you stepped into the classroom, a surge of relief swept over you at the sight of the functioning air conditioning, offering a welcome escape from the oppressive heat outside. With a contented sigh, you began organizing the books for today's planned competition, your heart brimming with anticipation.

Minutes ticked by, and one by one, the members of Stray Kids trickled into the classroom. Their eyes were drawn to your radiant presence, accentuated by the soft glow of the classroom lights. They couldn't help but admire you, their internal thoughts filled with awe and appreciation.

"Wow, [Your Name] looks stunning today," Felix remarked.

"She always does. It's like she stepped out of a fashion magazine," Hyunjin chimed in.

Chanbin nodded in agreement, adding, "She's got that vintage charm down pat."

As the members settled into their seats, their attention shifted to Minho. They couldn't help but notice the subtle change in his demeanor, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper.

"Hey, Minho, you alright?" Bang Chan noticed, sensing Minho's reaction.

"Yeah, you seem kinda lost in thought there," Han observed.

Minho struggled to contain the flood of emotions swirling within him. With each glance at you, his heart threatened to burst from his chest, overwhelmed by the depth of his affection for you.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought," Minho managed to reply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Throughout the English class, Minho's thoughts remained consumed by you. Your presence filled the room with warmth and light, illuminating his heart in ways he never thought possible. And as he stole glances at you throughout the class, he couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same way too.

As the class progressed and the competition ensued, Minho's initial hesitance and uncertainty gave way to a remarkable transformation. With a newfound determination shining in his eyes, he threw himself into the challenges with gusto, fueled by a desire to impress you and the rest of the group.

"Whoa, look at Minho go! He's on fire today." Felix exclaimed, amazed by Minho's focus.

"I've never seen him this focused before," Hyunjin added, nodding in agreement.

"He's really giving it his all," Chanbin chimed in, impressed by Minho's dedication.

By the end of the class, Minho had surpassed all expectations, leaving everyone astounded by his remarkable progress. As the applause filled the room, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for Minho and his incredible achievement. His determination to impress you had not gone unnoticed, and you were filled with admiration for his unwavering commitment to growth and self-improvement.

As the English class with Stray Kids drew to a close, you bid farewell to each member with a warm smile and words of encouragement. The energy of the competition still lingered in the air, filling the room with excitement and camaraderie.

"Great job today, everyone! See you next time." you called out, your voice brimming with genuine pride and affection.

As the members began to file out of the classroom, you turned your attention to the scattered books and materials on the desks. With a sigh, you began the task of organizing the mess, your focus solely on restoring order to the room.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Minho lingering behind, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. He watched as you worked diligently, your movements graceful and purposeful.

"Let me help you." Minho's voice broke through the silence, his words soft and sincere as he extended his hands to assist you with the books.

Startled, you looked up, your eyes meeting Minho's with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. You hadn't expected him to stay behind, let alone offer to help you.

"Thank you." you replied, your voice filled with genuine appreciation as you handed him a stack of books. As your hands brushed against each other, a jolt of electricity coursed through both of you.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you shared a fleeting yet electrifying connection. In that instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the gentle flutter of your hearts echoing in the silence.

As you worked together in comfortable silence, the warmth of your shared presence enveloped you, creating a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended words.

As you worked together to tidy up the classroom, Minho broke the silence with a soft voice filled with genuine warmth and gratitude.

"You know, [Your Name], I just wanted to say... I felt amazing with my English today," Minho confessed, his eyes shining with a sense of accomplishment.

You turned to him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you listened to his heartfelt words.

"That's wonderful to hear, Minho," you replied, your voice filled with genuine happiness for him. "You did an incredible job today."

Minho's smile widened, a sense of pride radiating from him as he reflected on his progress. "And I just wanted to say how happy I am to have you as my teacher. Your support and encouragement mean a lot to me."

Your heart swelled with warmth at Minho's heartfelt words. You had seen his dedication and determination firsthand, and knowing that you had played a part in his journey filled you with a sense of fulfillment.

"Thank you, Minho," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "It's a pleasure to teach you, and I'm so proud of how far you've come."

As the final touches were made to organize the classroom, a comfortable silence settled between you and Minho. With everything in order, you walked over to your desk to gather your belongings, signaling the end of another successful class.

Minho, having said his goodbyes, turned around to face you, his expression holding a hint of hesitation. The atmosphere shifted subtly as he began to speak, his words carrying a genuine sincerity.

"Actually... I know this might not be appropriate because of our student/teacher relation, but... hmm... you look stunning. You even made me feel shy," Minho admitted, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of admiration and a touch of bashfulness.

Your cheeks flushed with a combination of surprise and warmth at Minho's unexpected compliment. The sincerity in his words and the vulnerability in his demeanor created a moment that lingered in the air.

"Thank you, Minho," you replied with a genuine smile, appreciating the honesty and courage in his words. "I'm glad you feel that way. It's always nice to receive a compliment."

When Minho offers to help you with your bag, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. Despite the lingering awareness of your student/teacher relationship, the genuine connection between you feels undeniable.

“Thank you, Minho. That would be wonderful,” you reply with a grateful smile, accepting his offer with genuine appreciation.

Together, you make your way to the basement where your car awaits. As you walk, Minho engages you in conversation, his genuine curiosity shining through.

“So, how’s Lino doing?” Minho asks, his voice filled with warmth as he inquires about your beloved cat. “I bet he misses you when you’re away.”

A smile tugs at your lips at the mention of Lino, your heart warmed by Minho’s genuine interest in your life outside of the classroom.

“He’s doing well, thank you for asking,” you reply, your voice soft with affection. “I miss him too when I’m away. He’s like family to me.”

As you reach your car, Minho gently hands your bag to you, his actions filled with a quiet sense of care and consideration.

“Thank you, Minho. I really appreciate your help,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude as you turn to face him.

“It’s my pleasure, [Your Name],” Minho replies, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

As you settle your bag into the car, you turn to Minho with a warm smile. The connection between you feels palpable, the air tinged with unspoken sentiments.

“If you ever feel comfortable, Minho, you’re more than welcome to come over and see Lino whenever you want,” you offer, your words carrying a subtle invitation that extends beyond the realm of the feline companion.

Minho’s gaze meets yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. You both know that the mention of Lino is a mere pretext, a way to create an opportunity for you to spend time together outside the confines of the classroom.

“That sounds great, [Your Name]. I’d love to see Lino again,” Minho replies, his words holding a deeper resonance that hints at the shared understanding between you.

As you close the car door, there lingers a charged atmosphere, an acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that has blossomed between you. The invitation to visit Lino becomes a bridge, inviting Minho into your world in a way that goes beyond the boundaries of your official roles.

As you part ways, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air—a promise of shared moments yet to unfold, where the presence of Lino would be a mere backdrop to the deeper connection growing between you and Minho.

Couple days later, as you correct Minho’s homework during your extra class session, you can’t help but marvel at his progress. His determination and dedication to improving his English skills are evident in every assignment he completes.

Lost in your thoughts, you are surprised when Minho places a piece of paper on top of the question you are correcting. With a curious smile, you pick up the note and read the handwritten message in English, noticing a few adorable mistakes that only add to its charm.

The note, written with a touch of nervousness and sincerity, asks if you are free on Friday evening and if you’d like to watch a movie at your place. Minho’s excuse about missing your cat brings a smile to your face, knowing full well that he has three cats of his own at home.

Chuckling softly to yourself, you can’t deny the warmth that fills your heart at Minho’s sweet gesture. With a pen in hand, you write a response on the back of the note, asking him what he would like to have for dinner on Friday evening.

As you hand the note back to Minho, your eyes meet, and a shared understanding passes between you. In that moment, you feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the upcoming Friday evening—a chance to spend time with Minho outside the confines of the classroom, where your shared connection could blossom in the comfort of familiarity and friendship.

As Minho receives your response to his note, he can't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation. Your willingness to spend time with him outside of the classroom fills him with a sense of joy and warmth that he can't contain.

As he reads your reply, a smile spreads across his face, the corners of his lips lifting with genuine happiness. It's a chance for both of you to spend quality time together, to share a meal, and enjoy each other's company in a relaxed and comfortable setting.

"Can I cook for you?" Minho asks, his voice tinged with a hint of shyness as he meets your gaze.

Your eyes sparkle with warmth and affection as you look at him, your response filled with sincerity and kindness.

"Only if you let me help you,” you reply, your words carrying a sense of fondness.

With a nod and a smile, Minho accepts your offer, knowing that your movie night will be filled with laughter, good food, and the warmth of your growing bond. As you make plans for your evening together, Minho can't help but feel grateful for the chance to spend time with someone as special as you, and he looks forward to creating memories that you'll cherish for years to come.

As the days pass leading up to the supposed movie night with you, Minho finds himself on the receiving end of relentless teasing from the members of Stray Kids. It seems that his attempt to keep his plans a secret has failed miserably, much to his dismay.

Chanbin: "Ooh, Minho's got a hot date!"

Felix: "What movie are you gonna watch, Minho? Romantic comedy or action-packed thriller?"

Hyunjin: "Don't forget the popcorn and tissues, Minho. It's gonna be a tearjerker!"

The teasing only intensifies as the days go by, with each member finding new ways to poke fun at Minho's supposed date night. Despite his attempts to brush off their remarks with a good-natured smile, Minho can't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at the attention.

Han: "Minho, you better dress to impress!"

Seungmin: "Yeah, don't forget to bring flowers!"

I.N: "And make sure you don't spill the popcorn all over her!"

With each passing comment, Minho's cheeks flush with embarrassment, his attempts to deflect their teasing met with little success. It seems that the members of Stray Kids are determined to make sure he doesn't live down his supposed date night anytime soon.

Despite the embarrassment, Minho can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his friends' playful banter. Their teasing may be relentless, but it's also a reminder of the close bond they share—a bond that brings laughter and joy to even the most embarrassing moments. And as the days pass, Minho finds himself looking forward to his movie night with you, knowing that even if the members of Stray Kids continue to tease him mercilessly, he'll always have their support and friendship to fall back on.

The day of the much-anticipated movie night with Minho arrives, and you can't contain the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Despite your efforts to maintain composure, the excitement and anticipation bubble within you, manifesting in a flurry of nervous gestures and rapid thoughts.

After much deliberation, you settle on a more casual and comfortable outfit for the evening—a simple yet stylish ensemble that exudes effortless charm. As you stand before the mirror, adjusting your attire and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes through the apartment.

Heart pounding with anticipation, you hurry to the door, your pulse quickening with each step. With trembling hands, you turn the doorknob and swing the door open, your eyes widening in surprise and delight at the sight before you.

There stands Minho, resplendent in a casual yet impeccably stylish outfit that perfectly complements his features. His warm smile illuminates his face as he holds out a small bouquet of white lilies—the very flowers you mentioned months ago in one of your classes.

Speechless with astonishment and gratitude, you can hardly believe your eyes. The gesture is thoughtful and heartfelt, a testament to the depth of Minho's kindness and consideration.

"Oh, Minho... I can't believe you remembered," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine emotion as you accept the bouquet with trembling hands.

Minho's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity. "I wanted tonight to be special," he replies, his words carrying a sincerity that touches you to the core.

In that moment, as you stand together in the doorway, the weight of your shared connection hangs heavy in the air. It's a gesture of thoughtfulness and affection that speaks volumes, a silent promise of the memories yet to be made and the bond that will only grow stronger with time.

With a grateful smile, you step aside, inviting Minho into your home and into your heart. As you embark on your movie night together, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the moments yet to come—a night filled with laughter, companionship, and the blossoming of something beautiful between you.

As Minho stepped into [Your Name]'s cozy apartment, he was greeted by the enthusiastic welcome of Lino, who came running towards him with a playful meow, rubbing himself against Minho's legs.

Minho chuckled at Lino's antics, reaching down to scratch the cat behind the ears. "Hey there, buddy. Looks like we're already becoming fast friends," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of Minho bonding with Lino. "He definitely likes you more than me," you quipped, a hint of playful sarcasm in your tone.

Minho laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Seems like it," he replied, his attention momentarily diverted by the playful antics of the furry feline.

Meanwhile, you headed to the kitchen to find a water vase for the bouquet of white lilies Minho had brought. As you rummaged through the cabinets, Minho took a moment to glance around the small apartment, his curiosity piqued by the glimpses of your personality scattered throughout the space.

The apartment was a reflection of you and your unique style, filled with charming décor and personal touches that spoke volumes about your interests and passions. From the vintage photographs adorning the walls to the eclectic mix of furniture, every corner of the apartment exuded warmth and character.

In the background, the soulful strains of blues music filled the air, adding a touch of ambiance to the cozy atmosphere. Minho couldn't help but nod his head to the rhythm, appreciating the soothing melody that filled the room.

You returned from the kitchen, a water vase in hand, and placed the lilies on the small dining table. "There we go, a perfect spot for them," you remarked, a smile of satisfaction gracing your lips as you admired the bouquet.

Minho nodded in agreement, his eyes lingering on the delicate flowers. "They look beautiful," he commented, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

As the evening unfolded in your cozy apartment, the aroma of freshly cut lilies mingled with the savory scents wafting from the kitchen, filling the air with a tantalizing promise of the meal to come.

Turning to Minho with a warm smile, you inquired, "Are you hungry? I can whip up something simple if you'd like."

Minho's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he followed you into the kitchen, his curiosity piqued by the array of cooking equipment adorning the countertops.

To his surprise, the kitchen was a treasure trove of culinary delights, stocked with an impressive array of pots, pans, and utensils—a testament to your love for cooking.

"You have quite the collection here," Minho remarked, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he surveyed the assortment of cooking tools.

You grinned, a glimmer of pride in your eyes. "I love to cook," you admitted, your voice tinged with enthusiasm. "It's one of my favorite hobbies."

As you two set to work preparing the ingredients for your meal, Minho found himself drawn to your infectious energy and passion for cooking. With each passing moment, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling vegetables and bubbling pots.

In a playful gesture, Minho deliberately brushed his hand against yours whenever the opportunity arose, savoring the fleeting connection between you.

But it was when you suggested you cut the vegetables together that Minho's heart skipped a beat. As you stood side by side at the kitchen counter, Minho felt a surge of warmth and affection wash over him.

With a gentle smile, Minho wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your hands intertwined as you guided the knife through the crisp vegetables, your movements synchronized in perfect harmony.

As you continued to cook together, your laughter echoed through the kitchen, filling the air with a sense of joy and companionship that neither of you could deny. And in that shared moment of togetherness, Minho and you knew that you had found something special.

As the aroma of your culinary creation fills the air, you and Minho step back from the stove, your shared masterpiece laid out before you. With a sense of accomplishment and anticipation, you set about preparing the table for your meal.

Minho's hands move with purpose as he arranges the plates and utensils, his movements deliberate yet filled with a subtle grace. With each placement, he ensures that your seats are positioned side by side, a silent invitation for closeness and companionship.

You couldn't help but notice Minho's thoughtful gestures, the unspoken warmth and affection evident in his actions. As you settle into your seats, the table bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, you feel a sense of gratitude for the growing bond between you.

As you begin to enjoy your meal, you feel a surge of warmth and affection for Minho, a desire to share the joy of your culinary creation with him in a more intimate way.

"Minho," you call softly, your voice filled with tenderness and warmth, "try this dish. It's one of my favorites."

With a gentle smile, you offer Minho a spoonful of the delicious food, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. As he accepts the bite, your fingers brush against each other in a fleeting yet electrifying touch, sending a jolt of warmth coursing through both of you.

Minho savors the flavors, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and affection. In that moment, as you share a meal together, your connection deepens, your hearts entwined in a silent dance of possibility and hope.

In the soft glow of candlelight, as you share the remnants of your meal and the warmth of each other's company, you and Minho find yourselves engaged in an intimate dialogue, each revelation deepening the connection between you.

"You know, Minho, I've always admired your passion for dance," you begin, your voice soft with admiration. "It's incredible how you express yourself through movement."

A gentle smile graces Minho's lips, his eyes alight with appreciation. "Thank you, [Your Name]. Dance has always been my way of connecting with the world, of expressing emotions that words alone can't capture."

As you exchange stories and share moments, you can't help but feel a sense of wonder at Minho's dedication to his craft, his commitment to his art shining through in every word.

"And you, [Your Name], your love for books—it's truly inspiring," Minho remarks, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "The way you talk about literature, about the worlds and characters within those pages, it's like you're sharing a piece of your soul with me."

You smile, touched by Minho's words. "Books have always been my sanctuary, my escape into other worlds," you admit, your eyes shining with passion. "There's something magical about losing yourself in the pages of a good book."

As you continue to share your passions and discoveries, you find common ground in unexpected places—a shared love of picnics beneath the open sky, the simple joy of being at home in the company of your beloved cats.

"I've always loved picnics," Minho confesses, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "There's something so liberating about being outdoors, surrounded by nature's beauty."

You nod in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I couldn't agree more. There's a sense of peace and tranquility that comes with being out in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life."

In that moment, as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, you and Minho discover a world of shared interests and passions—a world where your hearts can intertwine and your souls can soar.

As the soft strains of your favorite slow song fill the air, a sense of warmth and familiarity envelops the room, casting a spell of enchantment over the evening.

Caught up in the melody, you find yourself humming along, the gentle rhythm stirring memories and emotions within your soul. Across the room, Minho's eyes light up with recognition, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the familiar tune.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Minho rises from his seat, extending a hand towards you with a silent invitation to dance. "May I have this dance?" he asks, his voice soft with warmth and affection.

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "I don't know how to dance," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

But Minho's smile remains unwavering, his gaze filled with unwavering determination. "Then let me teach you," he replies, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "Just like you taught me English."

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, you place your hand in Minho's, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. As you begin to sway to the gentle rhythm of the music, Minho guides you with grace and patience, his movements fluid and effortless.

With each step, each gentle turn, you feel yourself surrendering to the music, to the warmth of Minho's embrace. In his arms, you find a sense of security and belonging, a place where your fears and insecurities melt away.

As you dance, your laughter mingles with the music, filling the air with a sense of joy and companionship. In that intimate moment, you realize that dancing isn't just about following the steps—it's about surrendering to the rhythm of the heart, about embracing the beauty of the moment and the connection shared between two souls.

In the hushed embrace of the evening, as you and Minho sway gently to the rhythm of the music, a sense of serenity settles over you like a comforting blanket. In the soft glow of candlelight, your eyes meet, the warmth of your gaze speaking volumes of the unspoken bond between you.

As the music fades into the background, a comfortable silence envelops you, the air tinged with anticipation and longing. In that fleeting moment, Minho's voice breaks the silence, a whisper so soft it is almost lost amidst the gentle cadence of the night.

"May I?" he breathes, his words barely audible yet filled with an unmistakable yearning.

Your heart flutters at his question, your smile a reflection of the affection that fills your soul. With a nod and a smile, you whisper back, your voice barely a whisper yet resonating with the depth of your emotions.

"Please," you reply, your heart racing with anticipation.

In that tender moment, Minho closes the distance between you, his touch as gentle as a summer breeze. With a tenderness that speaks of a thousand unspoken words, he presses his lips against yours, a sweet caress that ignites a spark within your souls.

In that stolen moment of intimacy, time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in the sweetness of the kiss. In Minho's embrace, you feel a sense of belonging, a connection that transcends words and speaks directly to the depths of your heart.

As the evening unfolds in the warmth of your apartment, filled with laughter, shared moments, and tender embraces, the movie you had planned to watch fades into the background, forgotten amidst the magic of your connection.

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kishibe-kisser · 1 year ago

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Nanami Kento is just so bored in his white collar job until reader becomes an intern.

Tags: Nanami Kento x afab! Reader, reader gets called good girl, stockings, licking, manhandling, oral (reader receiving), biting, marking, teasing, possessive soft yet firm dom Nanami

His eyes darted around the room, following your figure as you made copies, retrieved coffee and bowed politely to your superiors. Kento was entirely glad to have you around, you were extremely entertaining. That was alot to ask for in this office, this boring white collar job that he had put himself in. He was even contemplating quitting until you wandered in.

The doe-eyed intern, new to the corporate world and looking to find a permanent job. It was just so appealing, you were so desperate and oh so obediant. He couldn't help himself but watch you.

Leaning back in his office chair, he watched the other employee's clock out. Work was so easy, he breezed through most of it with ease. He was always done way before time to clock out and well, because of you, he got even more done than before. At this rate, he would have been up for a promotion and while that wasn't what he was after, he would make you his sweet little secretary. All as an excuse to so he could simply look at you.

Your eyes met his from across the office as you placed copies on some of the employee's desks, no one left in the building aside from you two.

Mr. Nanami, was always giving you odd jobs around the office to do and while it bothered you when other's did it, he was the exception. He was tall, obviously well built, had a structured face and a dominating aura. He might not have been the most powerful within the company, but he exuded dominance and if he asked you something, you would do it.

"I have those copies for you, Mr. Nanami." You said, standing before him with the papers in your hand. You could feel him scan you up and down, taking in your tight pencil skirt, slightly see-through white blouse, stockings and heels. You looked like every man's wet dream and Kento wasn't every man, but he was just as enthralled by you.

"Thank you, doll." He said, gently taking the copies from your hands. He allowed his fingers to graze yours, taking note of how it flustered you. "You've been working so hard." He told you, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms. "Have a seat." He told you, patting the top of his desk. If anyone else had asked, you would have rejected but the older man in front of you had so much power over you and you weren't sure if he even knew.

You sat down on his desk, elegantly crossing your legs and allowing your heeled feet to sway in the air. His eyes were on your stocking covered legs, trailing up, up, up to the start of your skirt. You weren't aware of it at first but the lace edges of your stockings were peaking out and while you maybe should have fixed it, you liked the way he fixated on it.

Wordlessly, he reached out and allowed his finger to graze your ankle. "Mr. Nanami-" You started, your voice airy and almost sounding like a moan. "Call me Kento." He demanded, now wrapping his hand around your ankle fully. His demand sent shivers down your spine and the way he was looking at you made your thighs squeeze together. He took note of that, accepting it as permission before making you uncross your legs.

Locking eyes with you one more time, he leaned down while holding your ankle. Placing your heeled foot on his thigh, he ran his tongue up your leg the sensation going straight to your cunt. "Oh-" You gasped, watching him intently as his tongue traced up your leg. "Mr. Nanami-" You moaned as you felt him reach the lacy edge of your stocking. You let out a small scream as you felt him slap your bare thigh and then reach up to grip the back of your neck. "What did I say? Call me Kento." His voice made you whimper along with his grip on you and you nodded. "Yes, Kento."

"So obediant. Now hike your skirt up, let me see that pretty cunt." He released your hair and watched as you grabbed the edges of your skirt to pull up. Your thighs instantly spread, your thin panties doing nothing to hide how wet you were. He leaned forward and placed his lips on your thigh, just on the edge of your stocking to continue where he left off.

He bit your thigh lightly, sucking and licking to create a mark only he would know about. Kento knew he wasn't the only one that lusted after you, if anyone would see the mark on your thigh at least they would know you were spoken for. He continued on, nose brushing your panty covered cunt before kissing you through the fabric.

You tried to close your thighs on instinct but he quickly put an end to that, hands spreading your legs even further apart as he left more open mouthed kisses over your slit. His fingers toyed with the lace on your thighs and his tongue swirled over your slit. It felt so good, you wanted him to pull the fabric to the side and feel him without anything between you.

"Please-" You whimpered, crying out softly as he pulled away to look at you. "Please what? Tell me what you want." He was absolutely obsessed with the way you tasted, enjoying you even with the fabric holding him back. He wondered what it would be like to walk in on this lewd scene, a simple white collar worker eating out a sweet little intern in the middle of an office as they begged, Oh it would be so sweet and he would have been lying if he said it didn't make him want to eat you out until you could hardly walk home. That would give him an excuse to take you back to his place and fuck you on every surface he could find.

"Kento, please make me cum. I want it so bad." You called out, your nails digging into his desk in frustration. "Hmm, you're such a good girl." He smiled up at you before pulling the fabric to the side. He wasted no more time, tongue running over your slit and dipping into you. His blunt nails dug into your thighs, surely to leave little crescent moons on your skin as his swirled his tongue over your clit. It was in that moment that he had lost all of his resolve, lips wrapping around sensitive bud and sucking harshly.

A scream tore from your throat and he spread your thighs even further apart, strong arms and hands not giving you a chance to close your legs. "Oh Kento." You scratched at his desk, throwing your head back at the intense pleasure that left your thighs shaking. "Please, please-" You whined ever louder as the coil in your stomach tightened. He nipped at your cunt gently, alternating between sucking and biting your bud. You had no moment to warn him as his tongue fucked into your hole that you were going to cum. Yelling his name and bucking your hips to his face, needing more but also needing him to stop before he took your soul along with your orgasm.

"So sweet." He mumbled against your cunt, kissing your clit gently before pulling away from you. His face from the tip of his nose down glistening with your arousal as you tried to catch your breath. He let your thighs go, watching as you instinctively shut them. Your skirt was still bunched up at your waist and your blouse entirely disheveled. He started chuckling to himself, leaning back in his chair again and manspreading. His cock was straining in his pants as he laughed, feeling like an absolute maniac. Kento wanted to do it again, he wanted to fuck you with his tongue more and allow you to sit on his face or let him eat it from behind. He had one taste of the forbidden fruit and now he wanted more.

"When I get promoted, I'm making you my secretary and bending you over my desk any chance I get."

A/N: Nanami is so fucking hot please. Tell me he wouldn't be an absolutely pussy drunk after eating someone out.

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 11 months ago

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the counterpart

• chapter 1 — a welcome threatening stir

rating: explicit. please don’t skip straight to (future) smut parts though, i’m currently learning chess just for this fic /hj

word count: 4,5k

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of ‘y/n’)

cw: alcohol, occasional cussing, reader is a smoker (she plays chess and lives in the 90s, how do you expect her to have healthy lungs in these conditions?). a LOT of tension, viktor is a certified brat tamer. i think that’s it — please come yell at me if i missed anything. basically just a silly little chess rivals (sort of) au.

i am finally writing this multichapter and i hope it will be a fun read for you and an excellent torture for me. i have a vision but i don’t know how to make shit perfectly executed. we’ll see how this goes. an ao3 link will be added later. any feedback is highly appreciated.

part 2

⸻

You weren’t obsessed with him.

Nor with the way his tongue would click against his teeth so astutely irritating — a gesture you grew to define as some brief foreplay before said appendage touched his palate precisely one torturous time, whispering a victorious ‘check’. Nor with the crease dissecting his forehead — a rare occasion you managed to grasp only twice: the first time being your failed attempt to capture his queen, and the second — a recent one, at that — being the foolish way you’ve lost a freshly promoted rook: concurrently the most humiliating way to jeopardize an intellectual sparring.

You weren’t obsessed with his bizarre contemplative humming, nor with his Czech last name — needless to mention the disheveled mayhem of dark hair: Viktor was just a mere enigma you fancied to occasionally demerge — sneakily, patiently, with a positive passion to it. Habitually in a private ambiance of either his or your dorm room, though actually more commonly his — something about it simply screamed peace, as contradictory as that sounds. Sweetly quiet, relatively neat, with a never properly made bed being the only truly concerning mess in it.

That apartment was the embodiment of a grandmaster’s mind, and it certainly had all the chances of belonging to one at some point: if only he kept up with the meticulous tactics you were (secretly) so jealous of.

“Envy is a waste of time,” he unkindly reminded you one particularly languid evening, “you should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

That reproach got into your ambitious head. Call it a reality check or a simple first impression — since that encounter was also the first one you two had ever shared.

Though could someone really blame you? You didn’t need humbling. Well, not any more of that crude one, at the very least — a local college chess club had more than enough of it to offer. You could consume their disdain for weeks and it still wouldn’t make them run out of it — they had plenty in stock specifically for women. That much was obvious the second you appeared before those arrogant, prejudiced fools. You stepped in there innocently hoping to enroll, but stormed off with a genuine intention to commit homicide — a manslaughter, to be precise, and god weren’t you going to be merciful.

‘You can’t enroll without a rating,’ hissed that bespectacled, caricaturely tall boy — all heavily starched collar, stupid chequered tie and a handful of dirty blonde hair plastered across his forehead.

Bullshit, you thought, gathering every last ounce of your forced politeness, who needs a rating to enroll into a college fucking chess club?

‘We don’t accept amateurs,’ assented his not any less grimy interlocutor, his expression a tad bit more bearable. ‘Please, leave,’ he demanded, lancing your face with his hostile eyes.

Well, it’s a good thing you accept ill-mannered bastards, you almost muttered, fists clenching hard into a white-knuckled disaster.

And perhaps you were even willing to negotiate, to have their best players all lined up in front of you — each waiting for a turn to be relentlessly put in his place by you; and you would certainly show them — quick, efficient and dangerous. You would force them into submission — professionally so, in a way that would make them all wonder whether the next Judit Poglar has decided to bless them with her presence.

Because, sure; you were certainly many things — an excellent mind, a trickster, a fanatic, but that list never included an amateur. The mere fact someone even dared to insult you in such a way — and without even sparing you one game of chess — was, frankly, deeply humiliating.

So you decided to let your pride win. Walked out of that damned club with an ostentatious huff, heels clacking loud enough to muffle their demeaningly misogynistic brouhaha — a tacit protest, an addendum to your passive-aggressive ‘good luck, gentlemen’.

They didn’t want you — fine, whatever, you didn’t want them either. You’ll find yourself a counterpart soon — not any less intelligent, and, most importantly, respectful. They’ll come crawling back to you once you gain a rating, mourning their loss and pathetically begging for sweet mercy. You could already imagine the holes rubbed through the nice fabric of their dress pants from all the kneeling you’ll make them do.

Besides, Jayce had already promised to introduce you to someone decent. ‘He’s sweet,’ he assured you, a friendly arm wrapped around your tense shoulder. ‘Incredibly smart,’ he proceeded with his wholehearted praise, proud grin so wide the corners of his mouth were definitely hurting. ‘Somewhat awkward,’ he mused, raising one eyebrow in consideration, ‘though I’m not entirely sure it’s awkwardness, per se, Viktor is simply… pensive.’

Viktor. Your eyes squeezed shut, offering the restless imagination a brief opportunity to brainstorm. A competent, pensive and sweet chess lover: what would his temper turn out to be like? Does he have a rating yet? What if he’s already playing professionally? Perhaps he even has a title?

Jayce’s next comment didn’t offer you much help though.

‘He’s handsome too,’ he whispered, a shit-eating smirk wiped instantly off his pleased physiognomy. Elbows become offensive weapons between the ribs of unfortunate matchmakers, you see.

Either way: the deal was sealed. You were going to meet Viktor the next chance you get, and Jayce’s upcoming birthday has provided you with precisely that convenience.

It still happened rather spontaneously — you can’t mentally prepare yourself for an encounter you don’t quite know what to expect of. Sure, Jayce’s complaisant flattery was still at your service — a source not exactly reliable, yet somewhat welcomed nonetheless: though only because you lacked any other information about this Viktor persona.

But you decided not to upset a dear friend on his birthday. Acting like Jayce was bearable to be around was a part of your gift, after all.

Unfortunately, the fact he was born on an awfully steamy July day wasn’t helping you accomplish that; you squinted, drowning a glass of that disgustingly warm bourbon, a couple of melted ice cubes in it slightly diluting the once-rich taste of liquor. The man of the hour had quickly dissolved into a mess of infuriatingly noisy people after only reserving you a quick hello, shiny eyes already evidently tipsy — either from all the attention or the contentious quality of the booze this bar had to offer.

You didn’t dare to complain. The tab was on a birthday boy, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knew better, yet still stared right at Jayce’s laughing physiognomy, grin so blindingly toothy it had you regretting ever sojourning this feast of life. Not that you had anything against attending birthday celebrations; but a cramped bar, a cheap drink and not a single minute spent with a man you came here for weren’t exactly your ideal perception of said… festivity. Not to mention that Viktor was terribly late — though your darling mutual acquaintance was in no state to properly introduce you to him anyway. You slipped out of your bar stool, rubbing an erratic little pattern into the weary skin of each heavy eyelid — but the sleepiness didn’t magically dissolve under the persistent pressure of your fingers. If there existed a thing you hated more than cocky men and bad booze — then it certainly had to be feeling hot, and this awful place has kindly reminded you of precisely that long forgotten loathing; air so sticky it was melting your brain into a tired, dysfunctional mush.

Somehow you managed to find an exit before the headache became borderline unbearable, letting the evening greet you with a chilly slap on precisely that slick place where a damp blouse kept clinging onto your sweaty back. Summer sure was relentless this year — the outdoors didn’t offer you much of that crispy gentle breeze, but it was still not nearly as suffocatingly hot as inside that grimy shelter for drunks.

Shaky hands slid inside the pocket of your pants, fumbling frantically with the contents of it: glistening candy wrappers, ringing keys and a handful of coins. Took you long enough to finally feel the shape of an old lighter, the spark wheel of it so terribly rusty the callus on your thumb started stinging as soon as you laid it on that rough little bump.

With a sigh, you fetched a folded pack of Camel out of the same stuffed sack, the state of said poor thing utterly matching its owner’s — all ruffled, messy, with the bottom of it barely still intact. Well, fine, perhaps that last trait was not precisely pertinent to you, but your rear was hurting quite palpably after an hour spent sitting on that awfully uncomfortable stool — which meant that relating to your poor box of cancer sticks was inevitable.

The spark wheel gave in after a few insistent pushes, and within seconds you were taking your first greedy drag, back pressed tightly against the cool wall; providing you much needed support for taming a headache with a smoke break that would undoubtedly cause a new one in an instant. The filth filled your lungs with sweet relief, and you let the sedation run slowly through your veins, squeezing the filter in an affectionate little embrace of trembling index and middle fingers.

And then your private moment was ruined. But not abruptly in the slightest, with just one simple call of your name – the most careful of all interventions, surprisingly quizzical and polite, heavily accented at the edge of the very last syllable. Still had you choking ungracefully on your tiny nicotine snack, filling the silence with awfully inelegant coughing.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” spoke your pensive intruder, causing you to sharply turn around, back clinging off the wall in one unsubtle movement.

That’s how all meaningful formal meetings happen. Unfailingly when you least expect them, or, even worse — when you stop expecting them at all, with every thought banished from your utterly relaxed mind. They sneak up on you under shitty bars, giving you a slight vertigo and then offering a polite smile to make amends, gripping the handles of their canes with pent up awkwardness. And god were they peculiar intrusions — matching your silly, much too improper manner to wear corporate clothes for a night out, with just a few buttons of their tight vest undone; limbs lanky, but not inept, eyes brimming with pretty copper right onto your astonished frame. Made you randomly embarrassed about your chipped nail polish and messy hair with just a mere presence of their flawlessness: you knew you were facing a tease before you even managed to acknowledge his appearance, brow raising curiously in a cautious attempt of a greeting.

“Well, you did startle me,” was the first thing to leave your mouth after the coughing assault had ended, lips stretching lazily into an involuntary grin. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes — oh those big shiny tormentors — widened in surprise, and one sinewy hand crawled somewhat haphazardly up his chest, fingers catching the knot of a red tie to pull on it firmly. To either adjust it or to make the clearing of a tender throat easier — you couldn’t quite place it, yet still watched him in silent astonishment, tasting the bitterish taste of tobacco on the tip of your tongue.

“Well,” he parroted your tone with sharp accuracy and proceeded with distinguished sass, “I believe a certain someone has introduced us to each other… in absentia, so to speak.”

Oh. So that was your new charming counterpart? Bravo, Jayce — there was actually something truthful about your flattering for the first time.

“For I am Viktor, in case you’re still confused,” he obligingly reminded, abandoning the brief fidgeting with his tie to offer you a handshake.

You gulped, almost extending a dominant arm to accept it, but some weird foreboding had once convinced you that to twine your still smelling of cigarettes fingers with a stranger would be somehow perceived as crude — and so you clumsily caught his palm with your other, less nimble limb. Let the heat of his touch engrave into your hand, eyes swirling the tiny mole above that defined cupid’s bow, making you feel stupid for stealing that innocent of a peek. Had you forgetting about the still stuffed into your mouth cigarette as it fell open in oblivious awe, almost dropping a decent bridge of ashes onto his pretty shoes.

Regaining the lost composure, you managed to introduce yourself in a manner similar to his — not that it was necessary since he seemed to remember what to call you exactly, but the gesture still felt right — you’d vowed to treat people with politeness and liked to think that it was going quite well for you.

“So,” he uttered somewhat approbatory, withdrawing his hand from your tender clasp, “normally I don’t… tutor. But Jayce was rather insistent I try — and he’d also assured me that you’re quite passionate about the subject.”

You huffed, letting out an undefinable sound of confusion. Not without a mixture of evident irritation to it, if you were to be frank — but that was entirely justified. A tutor? Is that how Jayce really took it?

“I’m not looking for a tutor,” you sassed matter-of-factly, angrily inhaling from your cigarette. “I’m looking for a counterpart. What makes you think that you’re competent enough to teach me anything at all?” you inquired with candid hostility, watching him go limp in silent panic.

You’d vowed to treat people with politeness and didn’t care if it wasn’t going well for you anymore. Quite a drastic change of plans, to be frank.

“Oh, I am not claiming that,” Viktor rushed to object, and the way a few strands of hair started shaking treacherously as he wagged his head had almost caused you to crack a pretentious smirk. But he quickly soothed the unkempt curl and proceeded with his explanation, “I was simply told you might need some help. Why the unnecessary attitude?”

“Because you were told wrong,” you practically spat the smoke into his face, lips smacking together with an audible pop. It made his textured nose wrinkle with a fed up sigh, entertaining you with an ungainly attempt of waving that livid cloud away.

“And that’s my fault… how, exactly?” he mumbled with an utterly puzzled glare, and you scoffed in silent rejoicement, leaning slightly closer to divert yourself with more of his emotiveness.

“You should have paid more attention to what Jayce told you,” you jumped over his rhetorical question paying it no mind whatsoever. Though, as you were reminiscing on the events of this exact conversation — your own audacity made you wonder how Viktor managed to refrain from slapping you across the face that very instant. The shitty booze must have turned out not so shitty after all — it sure gave you the nerve, and you were holding onto it a tad bit too tightly.

But your new companion didn’t take that well. His thick eyebrow protruded into a furious arc, lids twitching slightly at the outburst you were so pathetically proud about. Both hands returned to the handle of his cane, as if getting ready to transform it into a weapon — and he leaned his whole body weight on it with a displeased gasp, accented voice obtaining a lower, more threatening edge to it.

He’s sweet, you scoffed, ready to press your forehead against his like an uncivilized animal. It’s not like you were acting much better than that anyway.

Well, at least Jayce didn’t lie about the handsome part.

“I’ll have you know that I was, indeed, paying attention,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “and if you wish to quibble over the words that do not even belong to me — then fine: be my absolute guest, but do not except me to align with your enthusiasm and partake in useless insults.”

He cleared his throat again, evidently reluctant to indulge in whatever spectacle you were so clearly asking for. That man didn’t deserve your resentment, but now you certainly deserved his, and so you backed off, fingers twitching haphazardly as they curdled around your cigarette for one last awkward drag, lashes fluttering with palpable nervousness.

“I was told you needed a tutor — and I sincerely apologize if your request was miscomprehended,” Viktor sighed, and you blinked at him in baffled reverence. Wishing oh so desperately to burn your always looking for trouble tongue with that still somewhat smoldering tobacco stick.

“No, I…” you gasped in response, but Viktor held a soothing hand up, stopping you from puking out more of that guilty incoherent nonsense.

“Please, allow me to finish,” he demanded, and you obeyed — a mere culpable inch away from accidentally swallowing the filter still filling your mouth with a sharp savour of smoke.

And your submission was appreciated right away.

“So, as I was saying,” Viktor returned to his lecture with a distinguished cough, “I’m sorry if your request was miscomprehended. But it certainly wasn’t miscomprehended by me, which makes your reaction somewhat… unfair, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” you yielded, nodding in weak agreement. “Yes, totally unfair.”

“To say the least,” he was quick to add, emphasizing the last word especially heavy.

“To say the least,” you parroted in response — just like a tamed misbehaving brat. And that’s precisely what you were — humbled, put in your place and sorry. You were sorry, and it made you quiver as you timidly chewed on the inside of an already half-eaten cheek, frantically counting the numerous scratches on your shoes. Doing anything to escape the gentle orbs undressing you off your very flesh in an attempt to find something even you doubted was still there: some prudence.

“So, with that being said,” Viktor summarized, and you heard a resonant click of his cane against the concrete, “I suggest you take out your anger on someone who’s responsible for the incorrect wording.”

You dared to abandon your defeated position, head tilting slightly upwards to witness his departure — just as languid as this completely disastrous evening; no offense to Jayce and his special day, of course.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he smiled, politely nodding at the establishment before you two, “I still ought to wish that someone a happy birthday.”

So that’s how you lose both a battle and a war. He’d just taught you a valuable lesson — and here you were, so appalled to the idea of being tutored. Oh how the tables have turned.

You reached out a hand for him, preliminarily putting out that damned cigarette to the sole of your messy shoe in a chaotic rush. Grazed his shoulder with a fleeting touch — so cowardly unsure if you were even allowed to pamper such luxury in these conditions. But he showed you some mercy — allowed it to linger there, slightly dipped into the curvature of his clavicle, awaiting your next move with a didactic frown.

A look of a man who’d put you in a checkmate before even pulling out a chess board.

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” you muttered with the most sincere remorseful look your face could even master, “I’m terribly sorry, actually. I shouldn’t have—“ but he interrupted you, eyes drifting playfully to the hand still invading his precious privacy.

“Oh, shit,” you cussed under your breath, hastily pulling it back as if it was leprotic, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Please, continue,” he insisted softly. Gave you a few seconds to finish crumbling into stupid tipsy pieces and stepped back, all of his attention centered precisely on your earnest apology.

Oh, nevermind, someone please scratch the ‘showed you some mercy’ part.

“I was rude,” you confessed (as if it wasn’t obvious enough already). “Unacceptably so. I’m not exactly… good with social cues — but it’s no excuse, I should never have said that. Especially within the first five minutes of meeting you,” the words were flowing out of your mouth so naturally — surprisingly smooth for someone who’d normally take three to five business days to come up with a proper atonement (or even consider the necessity of one whatsoever).

“Do you think I could somehow… make it up to you?” you hit him with your most pitiable arrow, the one you were saving up for special occasions when you really did mean to somehow atone for all the damage, eyes two pretty things seeking his forgiveness with a sporadic, perplexed blink. But they saw none — he’d frowned, hummed in consideration, and then tormented you with silence for just a few more everlasting seconds, making you sink your lips softly into the edge of your nail and scrape some polish off of it. Squinting instantly at the awful, chemical taste — and Viktor finally gave up.

You’d realized it was your first time hearing him laugh much later. It was, indeed, a thing to remember — all raspy, strangely domestic, not malicious or willing to destroy you any further. And yes — technically, he was laughing at you, but if that’s what you’d get every time this man filled the air with that soft laughter — then you may as well become a circus employee just to figure out how to make him emit more of it.

“All is forgiven,” he assured you, shaking his head, “the second you made that face, actually. But no more of that, please. If that’s how you plead — then I’m afraid I might someday forgive you something utterly unacceptable.”

He’s sweet, you sighed, an unsure smile returning plastered across your face once again.

Perhaps you should start listening to Jayce more often.

“But back to your request,” Viktor was quick not to let you turn into a puddle on that still scorched by the sun ground, “a counterpart — is that what you need? Why not join a chess club, then?”

His question didn’t mean any harm, and he obviously just asked it out of sheer curiosity — yet it still made you feel a tad bit demeaned. Not by him, of course, just by the fact those arrogant fucks still dared to coexist without you.

Perhaps they would be willing to reconsider if they saw your behavior tonight?

You sighed, shrugging off his query. “I tried to. They didn’t let me because I don’t have a rating.”

“Really? Well that’s just strange — since when does one need a rating for it?” his confusion was genuine, eyes widened drastically as if he’d just heard the biggest absurdity of his entire life.

“That’s what I said,” you whined in a tone of a natural gossip-girl, almost ready to chain-smoke the entire rest of your pack now that you were reminded of your misery.

“I see,” Viktor hummed, stroking a thumb over the line of his sharp chin in deep scrutiny, “hm, I’m certain I’ve never heard them demand a rating for enrollment before. A club is not a tournament, after all.”

“Wait, are you a member of our chess club?” the realization quickly absorbed you, but Viktor didn’t quite catch on to your astonishment.

“Yes,” he dryly confirmed, “yes, I am. Not that I spend much time there though — those gentlemen are simply… how do I put it politely? Mediocre. Incompetent. I don’t like careless opponents — what’s the point in playing them if you can picture how exactly you can win within seconds?”

Within seconds. You froze in apparent disbelief, trying to figure out whether he’s bluffing or actually being serious, awaiting tensely on something — anything — that might indicate a joke. But not a single muscle on his pale face twitched into a smile — he’d responded with a look as awfully inquisitive as yours, unsure of what exactly you expect him to do.

So he does mean it. In that case, he’s either very full of himself — or these boys are, in fact, that hopeless in chess. And something kept telling you that it most likely was the ladder.

“I’m jealous then, I suppose,” you offered him a safe answer, toying thoughtlessly with your poor, rusty lighter.

“Please don’t be,” he protested with a careful plea. “Envy is a waste of time. You should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

Bold of him to assume you might envy his skills. Well, yes — you were definitely beaming with envy, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

You snorted, almost letting that toxic conceit take over whatever pieces of common sense Viktor had just punched back into you — and his words dwelled, slinking through your skull, filling you not with thirst for vengeance, but with inspiration. It gave you some time to form a decent comeback, so you used it wisely: by delivering precisely that kind of answer, eyes rolling playfully at his discreet lecture.

“I don’t envy your tactics,” you informed him, gracefully holding your head up, “I envy the fact you have someone to show them to.”

And that boy smiled again, forcing your light vertigo to return — but not out of tipsiness or so-called ‘arrogance poisoning’.

“So do you,” he whispered, and watched you derail with the most victorious countenance known to a man. Reminding you nonchalantly that he doesn’t need a single chess piece to have you in a stalemate.

That muggy bar might’ve offered you an experience of being trapped in a figurative, impossibly narrow coffin, but Viktor’s presence was the thing that truly made you feel like an actual cadaver — all empty thoughts, and stiffness, and skipped heartbeats.

But Jayce forgot to mention that your new competitor was also deeply laconic.

“Meet me in the library next… Friday, if you’re available?” he wasn’t generous enough to award you with any more seconds to recover from this exchange, impatiently expecting a confirmation. You could only manage a non-verbal one, nodding weakly at his offer.

“Say… somewhere around noon?” he mused, and you instantly nodded again, waiting obligingly for his next suggestion. What a pleasure it is to do business with you!

“Perfect,” he snatched the words out of your mouth, already half-turned to the bar entrance, “please bring a board, and I shall bring the clocks… Yes, the library should suffice — it’s not like a game of chess requires much conversation either way. Now, please do excuse me — I really need to steal Jayce away for a minute.”

You watched him vanish into that devilish, so utterly unfitting for a man of his kind place; eyes nailed into his back as the crowd of feasting people swallowed your new interlocutor. Letting an excited little breath slip past your open mouth, escorting him with an uncoordinated wave of a shaky hand — a rather silly, excessive gesture since he wasn’t able to see it, and yet it still felt right — like a perfect little farewell to strengthen this newfound friendship with.

That’s how you met your counterpart — or, perhaps, that’s what you used to see in him once.

What you were still oblivious about — is that this man will conquer you in much more capacities than just the game that brought you two together.

⸻

tags (please let me know if you’d like to be added to them) : @zaunitearchives @blissfulip

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x f!reader #arcane fanfic #viktor smut #*throws this thing at you and vanishes*#the cunterpart

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