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yandere-daydreams · 10 days

Text

Title: Foxglove and Oleander.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 6.0k

Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.

TW: Heian Era AU, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood + Violence, Deliberate Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Implied Cannibalism.

Sukuna first arrived the night your chrysanthemums bloomed.

That was the only reason you weren’t in the temple when the fire reached it. Against your better judgement and the wishes of your superiors, you’d committed yourself to spending the night in the courtyard, carefully monitoring each delicate bud as they slowly unfurled and stained your garden with scattered blotches of bright, bleeding scarlet. In the morning, it would be your responsibility to gather each flower, dry their petals, and deliver them to the temple’s healers to use as medicinal herbs before you were allowed to get to your less seasonal chores, but tonight, the chrysanthemum belonged to you.

From your little corner of the courtyard, you watched as flames climbed the side of the side of the mountain, consuming the forest that surrounded your home before latching onto the servants’ barracks, then the outer sanctuaries, before finally reaching the main body of the temple. There were a few screams to accompany the fire’s first arrival, but they were quickly drowned out by the fire’s deafening roar, by the sound of buildings already mostly burnt away collapsing into themselves and putting their unfortunate occupants out of their misery. You could feel the heat, hear the others begin to flee, but it was only as the fire reached the peak of its gluttony that he emerged, entirely unscathed and painted with the blood of those you supposed you may have cared about, if you’d had more time. Sukuna, although you wouldn’t know to call him by that name, just yet.

It went without saying that he was hideous. Too many limbs, too many eyes, too many mouths – every part of him distorted with bulk and muscle and ink. His teeth struck you first, bared and glinting in the blinding firelight, then his clothing, the tattered and charred remains of what appeared to be a once fine kimono tied around his waist. He was carrying a spear, but he drove it into the ground as he stepped out of the inferno. There was something slung over his shoulder, too – a corpse, male and burnt beyond the point of recognizability – but that was abandoned just as thoughtlessly, left to rot on the outskirts of your garden. You were glad. Your chrysanthemums wouldn’t survive being crushed by such dead weight.

He didn’t notice you immediately. You stayed where you were, kneeling in the dirt, as he turned in either direction, taking in the devastation with a full-chested laugh. The noise was, in kinship with his appearance, unspeakably gruesome.

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes lighting up in spite of the stark shadows cast over his face. His spear was still within arm’s reach, but he made no attempt to retrieve it – holding out an open hand to you, instead. “Are you a monk or a maiden?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything proper, anything human. “I’ve already had my fill of the former, tonight.”

“A servant,” you answered, bowing your head by way of greeting. “I tend the gardens, among other things. Are you the one killing all the acolytes?”

“Among other things.” His tone had a mocking lilt, although he seemed far from vicious. You’d been warned about that, once, by someone very dear to you. You couldn’t remember the specifics, but the sentiment was still clear enough. ‘Do not fear the animal that bares its teeth, but the creature who lures you closer before it lunges’, or something like that. “I’m afraid I only have a taste for holy meat, tonight. Although, if you run, I’ll certainly take more enjoyment in striking you down.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Lord,” he corrected. “Make that mistake again and it’ll be the last time I allow you the privilege of using your tongue.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Again, you bowed your head. “The high priest can be harsh with his discipline. My ankle is still healing, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough for either of us to get very much out of it.”

He grinned, and the fire raged on behind him. “Grovel, then. Perhaps, if you manage to please me, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.”

He was clearly a man (man? monster? beast?) of great ego. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to block out the taste of something harsh and acidic rising up from the back of your throat. “If it’s all the same to you,” you managed, eventually, sparing one last glance towards your chrysanthemums. They really were beautiful. You could only regret that you’d never get to see them in the light of day. “I’d really rather not. It seems like it be easier, to just… uh, let you get the job done, as it were.”

In his defense, his pride overshadowed his shock. That, or you simply weren’t the first person he’d met to pay your own life such little regard. “I’ve cut down braver men for bolder suggestions.”

“But you cut them down all the same.” You swallowed, dryly. It’d been a while since you’d last had anything to eat or drink – the better part of a day, at least – but you supposed you wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would try to run, but my ankle really does make things difficult.”

He regarded you for a moment, as yet another wing of the temple buckled under its own weight. You decided, as you stared back at him, that his eyes weren’t so terrible – the pair he was supposed to have, at least. Although currently narrowed and creased around the edges, they had a pleasant color, a unique shade of red that seemed to glow when it caught the firelight. At least one part of him was bearable to look at.

Finally, he broke the silence, his resonant voice taking on a more authoritative cadence. “Come.”

He didn’t extend a hand, or gesture for you to follow, only trekking onward – towards the temple’s gates, left open in the panic of the exodus. Gingerly, weary of your injured ankle, you pushed yourself to your feet and hastened to his side. Sukuna only paid you glance by way of acknowledgement, but you didn’t mind. “Are you going to kill me in the woods, instead?”

“Uraume’s been asking for another set of hands.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you nodded as if you understood entirely. He spared you a small, thoughtless smile, and you decided that he was also the type of man who often enjoyed the luxury of never being questioned. “If they don’t care for you, I’ll kill you wherever I wish.”

“Ah.” You passed under the temple gates by his side. Not long after that, you heard the great crash of stone into earth, and knew that those, too, had collapsed. “I hope it’s somewhere with lots of flowers. I’ve always wanted to die somewhere beautiful.”

His only answer was another, more lingering glance in your direction, a low bark of a laugh. Satisfied, you let the conversation lapse into silence and walked into the night by the side of a monster.

“How do you choose where to go?”

He didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, one of his spare hands brought yet another grape to your lips, and with a pleased hum, you accepted it, savoring the sour tinge that accompanied the sweetness. From what you gathered, he preferred savory to sweetness, sweetness to bitterness, and bitterness to all other flavors that followed. He rarely ate anything that wasn’t the strange, ambiguous meat prepared by Uraume, his ever-smiling mastress of rituals, but the last village you’d passed through had a surplus of fruit. It’d seemed like a waste to let all of it rot, now that there was no one left to enjoy it.

It was strange – traveling with Sukuna and Uraume. They seemed to be on a pilgrimage of sorts, the destination unknown and the purpose one of endless carnage. Not that either of them expected you to participate in the devastation. No, as far as you could tell, you were regarded more as a servant, meant to be of aid to Sukuna when Uraume was otherwise occupied. Except, Uraume never seemed to be very occupied at all, and Sukuna very rarely needed aid, and you were often left in a position more akin to that of a pet than anything else – kept around predominantly because Sukuna found it entertaining to do so. Not that you minded. Pets were cherished and coddled. Pets never went hungry. Pets weren’t expected to be anything other than endearing and obedient, which wasn’t totally dissimilar to the things you were always expected to be, regardless of what you were supposed to call yourself.

Currently, you were taking shelter in an abandoned shrine not quite dilapidated enough to be considered unlivable, Uraume tending the hearth while Sukuna stared absent-mindedly at a map pilfered from the shine’s stockroom, the colored ink nearly too faded to read. You paid little mind to either of them – content enough to remain sprawled across Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. This was the first time you’d spoken in minutes, reluctant to break the comfortable silence. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind the sound of your voice, and you didn’t want that to change. “I don’t,” he admitted, eventually. He only spoke for himself, but it was given that you and Uraume would follow. “I go where I please. I only like to know that, when I arrive, there’ll be something worth my time waiting to receive me.”

“So particular, my lord.” You felt something tap against your bottom lip, and opened your mouth to accept a perfectly sweet, perfectly ripe strawberry. “Tell me, then – what would please you?”

He seemed to think for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What village were you born to?”

His intention went unspoken, but the implication was clear. Sukuna’s sole pastime was destruction, with the target of his ire being any person, town, or creature unfortunate enough to cross his path. Although you’d never seen him go out of his way to find prey before, you were sure willingly pointing him in the direction of vulnerable quarry would result in a predictable outcome.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Things like that can be so hard to remember,” you said, which wasn’t untrue. Your memory was a fickle thing – uncooperative on your best days and deliberately misleading on your worst. “You know, being a baby at the time and all.”

His fingers drummed thoughtfully against your side. “You must have family somewhere, servant.”

“Not necessarily.” You shut your eyes to stop yourself from squirming, sighing as you rested your head against his shoulder. “My parents abandoned me before I was old enough to learn their names. A scrap collector took me in some time after that, but he traveled quite often, and I lost track of him years ago.” You paused, shook your head. “Like I said, things like this can be difficult to remember. I’m sorry, my lord.”

There was a slight hum, a momentary lapse. Abruptly, you felt his hands shift to your waist, Sukuna repositioning your smaller form with all of the strength and all of the thought it might’ve taken an ordinary person to right a toppled-over doll. Your back came to rest against his chest as one of his spare hands cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the yellowed map. “Pick somewhere,” he muttered, his voice low and his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “Anywhere. Before I pull your unhelpful little tongue out of your throat.”

“Of course, my lord.” Acquiesce came first, a real answer second. Your gaze fell to the map in front of you. It took a second, but you found what you were looking for quickly enough. “Here,” you said, pointing to an area north of your current location. “There’s a village in the eastern corner of this valley with a small population of young farmers and very little in the way of redeeming qualities. But, in the town square, there grows a cherry blossom tree tall enough to scrap against the belly of the sky with branches that stretch as far as the eye can seem. When it blooms, its petals are great enough in volume to carpet the surrounding acre in pink.” You straightened your back, decisively avoiding sinking back into his chest. “I… I wouldn’t mind visiting it again, if it would please my lord.”

It was a dangerous thing to do – showing your hand so plainly. You’d grown so used to keeping your cards tucked snuggly against your chest, even talking this openly felt as if you’d been stripped bare and put on exhibition in front of him.

But, if Sukuna realized that he was the audience to your performer, he neglected to acknowledge it. He only looked toward Uraume, who perked to attention immediately. They were good at that – pretending not to listen. Not as talented as you, of course, but good nonetheless. “We start traveling east tomorrow,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m adding another leg to our journey.”

His primary attention remained on them, but a few of his unblinking secondary eyes – repulsive in their lack of necessity – darted to you, watching for any signs of satisfaction, of pleasure. You only schooled your expression, retreating into your own mind to count the days until the cherry blossoms bloomed.

It took a surprising amount of time for you to catch Uraume in the act. Not overly long, but more time than you would’ve expected with them making no particular effort to hide the evidence of their ‘ritual preparation’ and you making no exceptional attempt to avoid finding out why their snow-white sleeves were so often stained red. If allowed to, you might’ve gone on living in the bliss of plausible deniability until your time with Sukuna and his chosen companionship came to an end, but he was not so kind, and there was little entertainment to be had in such a passive participant.

Still, you would’ve liked another week, another month, another season. You’d never cared for kitchens, but you cared for them least when they reeked of rotting meat.

The stench was almost worse than the sight – almost, but not quite. Then again, you were struggling to think of something worse than Uraume, all practiced tranquility and iced-over smiles, elbow-deep in the cavity a long dead middle-aged man, his body bare and spread over the stone countertop. You recognized him not by his face, but by his features – his wealth-fattened face, his uncalloused hands, the lack of definition to his legs that those who toiled could rarely afford to go without. He must’ve been the lord who owned the palace you currently found yourself residing in – a sprawling, decadent structure that it’d taken hours to clean after the massacre. Sukuna would survive wherever his whims lead, but he preferred to be comfortable. You didn’t mind. You preferred it when Sukuna was comfortable, too.

It was clear they hadn’t been expecting you, either. Their dark eyes bored into you where you lingered in the doorway, a wicker basket on your hip and your robes still dusted with soil. Most of your day had been spent in the palace gardens. Its former caretaker had planted their shiso along the garden wall, where it would only receive partial sun in the best season – a common enough mistake, for how easy it was to mistake for basil, and a tricky one to correct. An experienced caretaker should’ve known better, but as the herbs were still alive while their keeper was very much not, you could consider their negligence repaid.

You made the first move –bowing at the waist by way of greeting. “Lord Sukuna asked me to fetch his tea,” you explained, as you straightened your back. You didn’t feel the need to mention that’d he’d sought you out in your gardens to do so. “I thought I’d bring you a few herbs in the same trip. My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”

The corner of their lips quirked downward. It wasn’t quite a frown, but it was the closest thing to one that you’d ever earned from them. You weren’t upset. Even glowering, they would’ve been breath-taking. “He wanted you to see my—” They paid a glance toward the dismembered lord, their arm still buried in his chest. “My preparations.”

“It would seem so.”

“And he wanted to know how you’d react. There’s a good chance he’ll ask me about this, later on.”

“I’d say it’s more of a certainty.”

“I’d understand it, if you wanted to leave. I know there are few ordinary humans who can stomach tasks so—” Another pause, this one longer than the first. Clearly, they were making an attempt to watch their tongue. “—needlessly visceral.”

“If I did try, how long would you give me before telling Sukuna?” This time, they choose to hold their tongue entirely, their slight frown deepening into a full-blown scowl. It took everything you had not to let your own satisfaction shine through.

Rather, you paid them another shallow bow before the threshold and setting down your basket on the nearest length of empty counter. “It’s mostly shiso, but I found some usable ginger and garlic, too, and a few stalks of parsley. Is there anything I can do to help?”

After a moment of consideration, Uraume shook their head. It only took a few minutes to make the tea you’d been sent to fetch, but they were minutes passed in silence, undisturbed save for the quiet chime of ceramic against ceramic. They didn’t start their own work again until you’d left the kitchen entirely, which you were thankful for. They’d been right. There were few humans with stomachs so strong as to withstand such grisly tasks, and you’d never counted yourself among them.

Sukuna had claimed the master’s chambers for himself, of course. You let yourself in without knocking, immediately finding Sukuna sprawled across the wonderfully ornate futon that dominated most of the floorspace. He smiled when he saw you, but his expression fell as soon as you returned the gesture.

He didn’t mention Uraume, or the kitchens, or the thick stench of iron-tinged blood that now seemed to fill every corner of the vast estate. You hummed as you poured his tea, and remained at his bedside as he took a long drink, followed shortly by an approving nod. You tried to make your escape quickly, already fantasizing about retreating back to your secluded garden, but Sukuna caught you before you could so much as turn towards the door. “Attend to what you must,” he started, his tone simultaneously dismissive and attention-seeking. “But return here, when you’re done. Bring your belongings, too – you won’t be going back to your bedroom again.”

You didn’t falter, but not for lack of reason to. You’d chosen your bedroom carefully, surveyed the better half of the residential wing before finding quarters that suited you. It was sparse by way of comforts and furniture, but the sole window looked over the mountainside, the landscape stretching on for miles upon miles without interruption. You would’ve been pressed to think of a finer view.

“As you wish.” And then, with a chirp of a laugh, “You know, we spend so much time with one another while traveling. I thought you would’ve taken our stationary periods as an excuse to get away from Uraume and I.”

“If I had a weaker will, maybe.” He reclined, let his head lull to the side, as if inviting you to counter, to protest – or worse, to step closer. “Why? Do you have something to say, servant?”

“Only how pleased I am to be of service to my lord.” You could’ve bowed, but decided against it. This time, when you took your leave, Sukuna was kind enough not to get in your way. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to.

He must’ve known that you were always going to come back.

“Who gave you permission to leave, servant?”

No one, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice until you were already gone. Stifling the urge to cringe, you turned on your heel and retreated back to the riverbank, not far from where Sukuna had left his robes, deliberately keeping your eyes on the ground. He rarely let you leave his side, but having you remain within eyeshot while he bathed was a newer development – and a tricker one to justify to yourself, at that. You were still allowed to remain more of a voyeur than a participant, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that he’d allow there to be such a great distance between you for much longer.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Your eyes may have been downcast, but your voice was a light and as upbeat as ever. “I only hoped to catch Uraume before they finished. Servants have to bathe too, you know, and those of us with no limbs to spare can be rather hesitant to do so alone so deep into the forest.”

“Join me, then.”

Ah.

You should’ve been expecting that, honestly. You had no one but yourself to blame.

“My lord,” you managed with an airy laugh, feigning disbelief. “I’m just not sure if someone of my position should—”

Considering Sukuna’s size, he could move impressively fast. You’d only managed to take half a step back before you felt a hand curling around your wrist, pulling you off of the bank and into the river. You managed to take all of two stumbling steps forward before your foot caught on a slick river stone and you fell to your knees, ice-cold water immediately soaking through your thin robes. Sukuna made no effort to catch you, laughing as you tripped over yourself. He’d always seemed terrible to you, but you couldn’t remember the sound of his voice ever being so vile.

Biting back a sigh or some other, more telling show of displeasure, you started to push yourself to your feet, but stopped as soon as you felt Sukuna’s fist curl around your collar, another finding the back of your head. In a brief moment of blissful obliviousness, you thought he meant to help you – or, to restrain you and savor your humiliation for a few seconds longer, at the very worst. You almost thanked him, as little as your gratitude meant to Sukuna.

Then, your head was forced below the water, and you thought better of it.

It happened too suddenly to brace yourself. Your first reaction, operating purely out of instinct, was to open your mouth and try to breathe in – an idea as primal as it was unhelpful. Frigid water flooded into your mouth, your throat, liberating you from any amount of air you might’ve been able to hold onto and filling the now-vacant space with a chill that seemed to bite into your throat and leave everything it touched throbbing, numb. Your second was to thrash against Sukuna’s hold – which was, predictably, equally as useless. He was stronger than you could ever hope to be, than any real human being ever should be. Thick fingers threaded themselves into your hair, the hand holding the collar of your robes falling away only to find the nape of your neck, cementing your place at his mercy.

You tried to be rational, to exhale, to not panic, but something thick and solid seemed to be lodged at the base of your throat, and you couldn’t think about breathing without choking, and it was hard not to panic when you were hyper-aware that you were going to be drowned in some godforsaken river in some heartless forest at the hands of an unlovable monster. You were running out of air too quickly – you were supposed to have more time. He couldn’t have dragged you down any longer than a minute ago, but you could already feel an acute throbbing in your temples, make out dark spots dancing in the corners of your vision. Your body thrashed and stiffened in turns, but it was only when your form went limp in his hold that Sukuna jerked you back to the surface – hauling you back to the shore and letting you collapse onto the welcoming sand. He stood by, his grin the embodiment of mirth, as you hacked up acid-tinged water and blinked back tears, sucking in shallow breaths between coughing fits. Every inhale left your chest tense and aching, though, and every exhale felt like you were giving up something precious, something irreplaceable. You did your best to ignore the strain, to put it out of your mind. You had a feeling it would be some time before you could breathe painlessly again.

It took long, agonizing minutes for you to so much as begin to recover, but Sukuna remained by your side, waiting patiently. At some point, he lowered himself to your height – falling into a crouch and bringing a hand up to your back, rubbing circles into the apex of your spine as you coughed and clawed at the shore. He didn’t hum, or speak, or apologize, but you hadn’t expected him to. To initiate would be to taint what he sought so violently: your reaction. He wouldn’t do anything to spoil his prize, not so close to victory.

No, he wouldn’t dare.

The responsibility of denying him fell solely to you.

“My—”You tried to raise your head, to look at him, only to cut yourself off – another lungful of brackish water forcing its way past your lips before you could find your voice again. “My lord,” you managed, eventually. “If you’d like to bathe together, please give me a moment to undress, first. You know how long it can take cotton to dry.”

To his credit, his composure held. There was another throaty laugh, a sudden edge to his smile. “You should be more careful, songbird. One day, I’m going to eat you alive, and your last words to me are going to how glad you are to serve your master one last meal.”

“There would be no greater honor.” You managed an unsteady smile before dropping your head low, curling into yourself, and coughing up until your throat burnt and your rib cage seemed ready to burst. Sukuna only shook his head, taking you by the shoulders and leaning you against his chest, ensuring your stability before his attention shifted to your robes. With a surprising delicacy, he undid the sash bound around your waist, shrugging off your ruined yukata and carrying you back into the water. Your nails bit into his chest, but if he felt your involuntary resistance, it wasn’t enough to deter him.

Your body was lowered gingerly into one of the river’s shallower portions, and Sukuna kneeled behind you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. You shut your eyes, but you could still feel his thumb tracing idly over your cheek, his chest reverberating against your back as he all but purred in delight. “I could hear your heart racing as I pushed you under.” And then, with a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, “It’s a relief to know there’s at least one part of you I can trust to be honest with me.”

You didn’t answer – only smiling as you melted into his palm.

The cherry blossom tree was larger than you’d remembered.

The village that surrounded it had grown, too. That made sense – it’d been years since you last passed through this area, and such a lovely corner of the world was bound to attract merchants and traveling warriors and those who, like yourself, simply found themselves drawn to beautiful things. You’d been able to see its wonderous branches rising above the horizon days before you were supposed to reach the village, started catching sakura petals on the breeze while you were still hours away from the nearest scrap of civilization, and a small part of you died upon being told that you would have to wait until after sunrise for your reunion, until Sukuna had finished glutting himself on blood and death and misery. Not that you listened. Uraume was tasked with looking after you, but they weren’t difficult to slip away from. They seemed to be fond of you – or, at least, surprisingly sympathetic to their master’s newest pet. Either way, they let you go without much of a struggle.

An hour or so after midnight, you made your way through fleeing crowds, maneuvering around mounds of disembodied extremities and between flame-eaten farmhouses, still in the early stages of burning down. Wherever Sukuna went, the fire seemed to follow, so you tried to stay where the light seemed the dimmest, where the smoke seemed the thinnest, focused solely on finding your way to the center of town – to the cherry blossom. You couldn’t make out its silhouette against the pitch-black landscape, but you didn’t need to. You would’ve been able to find your way to it on instinct alone.

That being said, now that you stood before it, you found it hard to believe that you’d come to the right village, let alone the right tree.

You didn’t remember your cherry blossom looking quite so… absent.

It was as if some great and wrathful deity had broken your sakura off at the base and spirited its body away, leaving only a charred stump behind. There was evidence that there had been more, at some point – pale pink petals littering the ground, a rope fence that had to have once guarded more than desecrated remains – but the cherry blossom was gone, as the village built around it would be by sunrise. It was cruel, really, when you could put your own despair aside long enough to use such tame vernacular. It was monstrous.

Speaking of monsters – yours was quick to rear his ugly head.

He’d never looked more terrible. Ash tainted the pale color of his hair, blood and gore staining his chest, his face, his hands. As always, he carried no weapon, and as always, he was entirely uninjured, untouched save for the byproduct of the devastation he’d wrought. You watched him approach in your peripheral, bracing yourself a moment before four arms wrapped around your smaller body and pulled you into a stone-hard chest. You knew better than to attempt to resist Sukuna, but this might have been the first time you were tempted to try.

“Songbird,” he muttered, the petname salt to a fresh wound. If he was surprised, let alone angry that you’d snuck away from Uraume, your disobedience caused him no strife. “I come bearing gifts.”

The upper of his two left hands uncurled, revealing a long, stick-like object. A hairpin, you realized, after a moment, the prong of a fine dark mahogany. It boasted only a single ornament: a small, expertly made glass flower. A cherry blossom, to be more specific.

You’d never been quick to anger. For as long as you could remember, in fact, you’d never found yourself angered by much of anything before.

You tasted blood before you realized you were biting your tongue; swallowing back a scream, or howl, or some other unsightly noise. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to regain your composure, but Sukuna was preoccupied, his attention dedicated solely to burying his face in the crook of your neck, to clutching onto you so tightly, you had to wonder how he’d ever managed to let go. It’d been inane to ever compare yourself to a pet, to something so cherished. It’d been inane to ever believe you were anything more than the favored plaything of a drooling, overgrown mutt.

With trembling hands, you plucked the hairpin out of his palm and held it up appraisingly. When Sukuna raised his head, his pointed teeth still lingering against your throat, you did the only thing you could think to – smiling as you leaned into him. “It’s beautiful.” And then, with a sigh, “It’s only a shame to have missed the real thing.”

“You don’t have to worry.” A hand found your jaw, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I had more than my fill before you arrived.”

Ah.

For all of Sukuna’s faults, you could only be thankful that pride was among them.

As you watched the village burn in his arms, you thought only of the color of chrysanthemums and the taste of iron, heavy on your tongue.

Someone had told you, once, that all the loveliest flowers bloomed under moonlight.

You watched the sky as you waited – your eyes never leaving the sliver of it you could see through small, barred window built into the opposing wall. He’d taken you to another vacant temple, tonight, claimed the head priest’s chambers as his den, and you’d followed lovingly, never uttering so much as a word of complaint. You’d let him rest his head in your lap, raked your fingers through his hair, and brought a cask of sweet wine laced with bitter herbs to his lips whenever he threatened to stir. Eventually, his eyes eased shut, his pulse slowing and his expression dulling into something calm, something docile. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve started to doubt that he was a monster at all.

You didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t make a run for the door. You only reached into your sleeve, fetching the cherry blossom hairpin he’d gifted you weeks ago, now, the hairpin you carried dutifully ever since. You waited for him to turn onto his side, revealing the unarmored half of his face, before aligning the pointed tip with his ear, raising it above your head, and plunging it—

You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, another hand latching onto your hip. Your back slammed into the stiff futon with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs – leaving you breathless and paralyzed in an instant. When you recovered enough to think, you found Sukuna above you, straddling your waist, a hand planted on either side of your head. He was breathing heavily, as if excited. You knew it was impossible, but you found yourself wishing that he’d find a way to regurgitate his own lungs and choke on them.

“My lord,” you started, each word measured. You were careful to keep your voice low, your smile perfectly saccharine. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

His response was a manic smile, a bark of a laugh. “It’s too late to play innocent.” He lowered himself that much closer to you, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. “How many times have you poisoned my wine, songbird?”

“Poisoned? Never.” You’d let go of your hairpin in the collision. Currently, it was lying against the wall to your right – just an inch or so out of your reach. There were other, more accessible weapons closer to you, but if you were going to kill Sukuna, you wanted it to be with that abomination. “If my lord is asking how many times I’ve treated his wine with herbs and spices, then twice. Once to see how he handled his drink, and tonight.”

You’d done him a disservice – writing him off as simply monstrous. He was more beast-like than anything, with his back arched and his talons dug into the bedding, with eyes so wide and so vibrant you believed, if only for a second, that he would manage to burn holes through your skull. “A day will come,” His anticipation was palpable. It was a wonder how such a glutton could ever sound so starved. “Where nothing will fall from you sweet lips but my praises, and I will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you mean every last word.”

For once, you could only say what you meant. “I’d rather fucking die.”

There was a change to his animal posture, a glint of white teeth in moonlight, and then his mouth was crashing into yours – all fangs and tongue and intensity. Mindlessly, operating off of your own sort of base impulse, you reached out, your fingertips just barely brushing against the prong of your hairpin.

It was only as you curled your fist around it that you kissed him back, unable to suppress your grin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader

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theemporium · 7 months

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[5k] luke hughes swore he would never tell another soul and take his confession to the grave. that ends as an epic fail as he tells a really pretty girl his most embarrassing secret. luckily for him, she seems pretty eager to help him out.

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It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it was. It really fucking was.

It wasn’t always a big deal. When he was in high school, everybody was just like him. Or at least, most people were. HIs friend group were. And they would always talk about how fun college would be, how everything would change, how everyone grew up and just did it.

And then he went to college and nothing really changed. It was a bit embarrassing, it made his cheeks burn bright red whenever he spoke about it. But it also wasn’t the most unbelievable thing. Between keeping his GPA up, his training regime and the countless games during the season, it wasn’t shocking to anyone that he didn’t have as much free time as movies liked to make it seem like.

But then he moved up. He went from being a kid with a dream to actually living that dream and beyond. A joke from his childhood became a reality when he found himself on the ice with his older brother, wearing the same jersey as his older brother. Suddenly, it was all real and intense and he was in it properly.

But, fuck, it was embarrassing that he was in the National Hockey League and he was a fucking virgin.

In theory, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t change the way he played or his performance on the ice. It didn’t affect his professional life in any way, shape or form. But it still made him want to curl up in a corner and shrivel his existence away whenever he thought about it too long.

And it wasn’t like it was obvious. He wasn’t announcing it to the world and rambling on about it in interviews. But the amount of jokes people made about women throwing themselves at his feet or having a turnstile of people in his bed felt like he might as well be.

The awkward laughs and strained smiles would only take him so far before someone caught on.

And that might have been the worst part—the fact that nobody knew. Not his friends in high school nor the ones he made in college. None of his teammates. Not even his brothers (though, the idea of him even telling them whether or not he was a virgin was an experience he would like to avoid all together).

Nobody in the fucking world knew Luke Hughes was a virgin except him and, in a weird way, it was kind of fucking lonely.

Or at least, nobody else knew until he met you.

…

The night he met you had been a few days after the Devils had been kicked out of the playoffs.

Despite the loss, Nico wanted one last team celebration to sign off a good season. Because yes, it fucking sucked that they were knocked out and it sucked they wouldn’t be the ones to lift the Stanley Cup this year. But they still played well, they deserved to appreciate that, to appreciate each other.

And, on a more personal level, it was a chance to celebrate with the NHL team he could now call his home.

He was in the big leagues now. He was in the NHL and he was a professional hockey player and, by the power of some fucking superior being he did not know, he was lucky enough to share a team with at least one of his brothers.

It still felt like a dream.

And with that dream came the joys and perks of being a New Jersey Devil—like not being ID’d in the bar the team commonly visited.

“Takin’ it all in?”

He tore his eyes away from the surrounding bar to look at his brother, perched on the edge of the pool table Nathan and Kevin were currently competing on. He had been happy to just watch, observe—for lack of better terms—take it all in, like Jack assumed.

Instead, he just retorted with, “it’s a bar. Not much to take in that I haven’t seen before.”

“Okay, college boy,” Jack snorted, his cheeks flushed the same shade of red as the vodka cranberries he had been drinking all night. “I meant the big leagues.”

Luke resisted the urge to snort. “Ask me again in a year when it’s actually sunk in.”

Something in Jack’s face softened. “I’m glad you’re here, Moose.”

His throat felt a little tight but he still smiled. “Me too.”

He had assumed that was the end of the conversation, but that was Luke’s first mistake. He hadn’t paid much attention to the way Jack’s eyes roamed around the bar, narrowed like he was looking for something or, in this case, someone.

“What do ya think about her?”

Luke blinked, looking at his brother with a confused glance before he followed his line of vision to some blonde settled against the wall on the other side of the bar.

“What about her?”

Jack shot him a look. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Luke hesitated, almost as though it was a trick question. “Yes?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound convinced,” he commented. “So, blonde isn’t your type. What is then? Brunettes? Redheads? Miscellaneous?”

“No, I—” Luke frowned. “I’m surprised you even know what miscellaneous means.”

Jack punched his arm in response.

“Why are you asking about my type?” Luke questioned, something that felt a lot like uncertainty bubbling in his stomach.

Jack let out a deep sigh, prolonging it to properly encapture his annoyance. “I’m trying to help you get laid, bud.”

Luke froze.

There was no way Jack could know. He knew that. He did. Logically, it was impossible for his brother to know he was a virgin when Luke had genuinely never admitted as much beyond the age of seventeen. But here he is, seemingly trying to find him someone to sleep with. There was no way he could know, there was no way Jack knew—

“I mean, you’re in the fucking league now, bud. Milk it a little, have some fun!” Jack continued, lost in his own rambles to even notice the way Luke’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m sure college was fun and all, but this is better!”

Luke tried to let out a laugh. “I think I’m alright for tonight.”

Jack huffed out in annoyance. “Don’t be a bore! Luke, you’re in the NHL. You just fucking played in the playoffs! Enjoy yourself, man.”

“I am enjoying myself,” Luke countered.

“You’ve been drinking the same beer since we got here,” Jack snapped back with a knowing look. “And I know it tastes like shit because I did the exact same thing when I first ordered a drink here. I’m trying to be your guru, help you avoid the mistakes I made.”

“My guru,” Luke repeated with a snort. “More like an unwanted Cupid.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “C’mon—”

“Focus on yourself.”

“It’s my duty as a brother—”

“I am not staying to listen to this,” Luke grumbled, batting away his brother’s hands as he began to make his way to the bar. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was right—this beer tasted horrible and not even the tiny sips he had been taking were going to save it.

He settled himself on a free spot at the bar, his elbows placed on the slightly sticky countertop as he peered over to try find a bartender. He saw a few on the other side of the bar finishing off a few drinks and accepted the small wait, a little lost in his own thoughts and whether he wanted to try another drink instead of just settling for something non-alcoholic when a hand settled on his back.

“There you are, babe!”

Luke frowned, turning around to find you staring right back at him with a grin on your face. Honestly, he was expecting to turn around and let the person realise they had made a mistake. But your smile remained on your face, though the wide eyes staring back at him were a little distressing.

“Uh, I think you—” But he was cut off by another voice, a much deeper one this time.

“This is your boyfriend?”

The man was average height and fairly built, but that was all he had going for him. His shirt was definitely a size too small to make him look bigger and the chunky chain looked nothing short of tacky. And Luke may have been in his presence for less than thirty seconds, but the body spray was overwhelming and pungent and made him want to plug his nose.

Now, Luke may be a little slow but he isn’t dumb.

He may be deeply confused by the sudden promotion to boyfriend from a stranger but it didn’t take long for Luke to realise the wide, distressing eyes were a cry for help and the walking embodiment of Axe body spray in a tight shirt was the reason.

“Uh, yeah!” Luke cleared his throat a little, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders in the least awkward way he could possibly achieve. “She’s my girl! Uh, girlfriend! She’s my—” His cheeks burned but he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. “She’s my babe!”

The man glanced between you and Luke for a few moments before rolling his eyes, muttering something under his breath about wasting his time before he disappeared into the throng of people crowded by the bar.

“What a dick,” you murmured and it almost made Luke jump when he remembered you were still beside him, that his arm was still around your shoulders. You turned around to look at him once you knew the other guy was gone, and your smile seemed softer now. “Thank you for that, really. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no biggie,” Luke replied, cringing a little before he quickly continued. “Thanks for giving me the honour of being your fake boyfriend.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you have a friendly face. You looked like you would go along with it.”

His cheeks burned warmer. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” you grinned before turning to settle in the spot next to him, fingers tapping on the bar counter. “Let me buy you a drink to thank you for your services?”

Luke began shaking his head. “That really isn’t necessary—”

“Please,” you insisted, a softer expression on your face. “It would make me feel better for dragging you into my scheme.”

“I—” He cleared his throat, hoping to some superior being that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “O-Okay.”

Your grin widened. “Brilliant. What do you want?”

“A Coke.”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, no judgement, just surprised,” you said, leaning over the bar to place your drink order along with his before you turned back to the boy. “So, do I at least get to know my fake boyfriend’s name?”

HIs lips twitched upwards. “Luke.”

“Luke,” you repeated before telling him your name, something gleaming in your eyes when you did. “So, Luke, what brings you to a bar on a Monday night to drink Coke?”

“I’m here with some work friends,” he lied easily, not really one to play the professional hockey player card (despite Trevor’s insistence that it was expected to be used for this reason exactly). “Just enjoying the night before we all head off for the summer.”

“Hm, here with your work buddies but staying sober and standing alone at a bar,” you mused. “You’re quite intriguing, Luke.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he murmured with a frown.

“It is,” you assured him with a smile.

Luke opened his mouth to say something before the familiar voice of his brother reached him.

“LUKEY BOY IS GETTING SOME!”

He shut his eyes, muttering a list of curses under his breath before he finally looked at you with a sheepish expression. “I’m so sorry about him. Just ignore him, he’s a little drunk and—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you assured him with a laugh. “Work buddy?”

“Mhm,” Luke confirmed with a nod. “And my older brother.”

“That sounds like an intense work environment,” you commented.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled, but there was still a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t blame you for making a run for it now while you have the chance. Jack will only get worse.”

You waved him off, smiling. “Your brother isn’t scaring me off,” you assured him. “Plus, I said I was intrigued and I’m enjoying talking to you. Makes it seem a lot more believable that you’re my boyfriend if that other dude is lingering around.”

“Yeah, totally,” Luke agreed, something warm bursting in his stomach at the fact you wanted to keep talking to him.

And despite what Jack and the others assume, nothing more happened between the two of you than just talking. It was bittersweet, in a way. Because Luke really enjoyed talking to you that night, even if he knew he would probably never see you again.

But it was nice and it replayed in his head a lot more than he cared to admit that summer.

…

He assumed it was guaranteed that he would never see you again.

So, it was pretty shocking when he did, in fact, see you again at a house party held by one of the boys of all fucking places in the pre-season.

As the new season approached and the overwhelming realisation that he was about to enter his rookie season of the NHL hit him, Luke didn’t even hesitate to accept the invitation for the ‘small get together’ with the boys. These were his teammates, these were the people he was going to have to trust and navigate on the ice with. It seemed like a nice idea to have a few chilled hangouts whilst training dragged everyone back to New Jersey.

What Jack and everyone else had failed to mention was the fact a ‘small get together’ did not just mean the team like he assumed. It meant a house full of people that Luke certainly didn’t know or recognise, but seemed to know exactly who he was.

He was only slightly ashamed to admit that he clung onto Jack’s side as long as he could. But his brother was a social butterfly who liked to jump between different crowds and it was too much for Luke. Instead, he had settled near a couch where John and Kevin had been rambling away to each other when Jack suddenly appeared—out of thin air—with a huge grin on his face.

“Hey, Rusty, is that not your girl from the bar?”

Luke’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “Huh?”

But Jack didn’t say much, just nudging his little brother to look over his shoulder. His lips parted again, prepared to tell Jack that he was drunker than he expected him to be after a few beers, only to find the words stuck in the back of his throat when he turned around and saw you.

He had thought about you more than he cared to admit over the summer. Just random little flashes of the conversations you shared. It was stupid, and a little pathetic, but you just felt…different—in the least cliche way possible.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly his cheeks just heated at the sight of you.

No, correction: it was really fucking embarrassing.

“Aw, did Lukey invite his lil’ crush?” Jack teased, reaching out to mockingly pinch his cheeks but Luke batted his hand away just in time.

“Shut up,” he grumbled before clearing his throat, turning to faze his brother again. “I didn’t. I–I don’t even know why she is here.”

Jack shot him a look. “Go on, then.”

Luke frowned. “What?”

“You are actually clueless,” Jack grumbled under his breath before giving him a hearty shove. “Go talk to her!”

His eyes widened. “What?!”

“Go talk to her,” Jack repeated, not understanding the panic in his younger brother. “You guys were hitting it off at the bar, what’s the big deal? Maybe you can hook up with her again.”

“I—” He started before realising this was not the time to delve into the same argument they had had since the night at the bar. “It’s fine, she probably doesn’t even remember me.”

His brother scoffed. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Luke blinked. “No?”

“Dude, she was all over you!” Jack insisted, giving him another shove that had him stumbling slightly. “Go!”

Luke could feel his cheeks heating up. “Jack—”

“It’s my big brother duty to help you!”

Shove.

“Jack, fuck off. It’s not gonna happen.”

Shove.

“Yes, it will. Stop being a coward.”

Shove.

“Can you stop? I am not—”

Shove.

“Go talk to her!”

Shove.

“No—”

Except, the little shoves and lack of balance with the drinks he had been nursing through the night seemed to catch up on Luke. He stumbled back, his footing gone and his free hand reaching out to grasp Jack or something to stop him from falling. But it was too late. He was stumbling and his drink was sloshing and it went all over—

You.

It went all over you because now you were right there, right in front of him, having just walked across the room to come and see him.

“Oh shit,” Jack muttered from behind him.

You looked down at your shirt—your very white shirt that now had some atrocious red stain splattered across the front from the cocktail John had made him—and stared in shock.

Luke felt his whole body curl in on itself, his face burning and his chest feeling oddly tight. “I am so sorry—”

But, to his fucking shock (because you seemed to shock him a lot, if he was honest), you looked up at him and laughed.

“Unlucky timing, huh?” You joked but Luke didn’t feel like laughing.

“I can—” But he paused, not even sure what he was going to say.

“Liking the colour red a little too much there, Cherry!” A voice from somewhere in the crowd—Luke genuinely wasn’t sure where—called out and your face brightened.

“It’s a good thing I can pull it off!” You retorted, unfazed by the name.

Cherry.

Usually, Luke would chalk it up to his memory being fairly shit and the months that had passed since that night in the bar making him confuse your name for something else. Except, the boy had practically relived that night in his head on a constant loop. Every word. Every sentence. Every second of it.

Pathetic? Yes.

Helpful? Probably not in any way, shape or fucking form except for the fact he was certain your name was not Cherry. He was more than certain. At least, he was certain that wasn’t the name you had told him.

There were so many logical and simple reasons, he knew that deep down. But right now, Luke was embarrassed and flustered and he had this horrible inkling that you told him a fake name in case you thought he was a creep at the bar like the guy he saved you from and—

Yeah, Luke really didn’t like the idea of that. He didn’t like the idea of being paired in a category with that man. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that he made you uncomfortable enough to give him a fake name, even if he had given you no real reason to do otherwise.

Someone pushed through the crowd as Luke continued to spiral in his own thoughts, unable to even get a coherent sentence out when Nico glanced between you and him. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he offered you an apology before he turned to Luke.

“You can show her where the bathroom is, right?”

And, fuck, he really thought this was the closest he could reach to ever feeling something close to hatred towards his captain.

Luke nodded his head, unable to get a word out and nodded towards the stairs.

You seemed to catch his hint well enough as you turned to head towards the stairs. Until your hand was reaching back, taking his in your grasp and intertwining your fingers together and Luke’s brain short circuited all over again.

“Get it, Moose!”

Jack was pretty high on that almost-hate list too.

Luke felt like his body was on autopilot as he moved towards the stairs, letting you lead him up with your hands still connected until you reached the top. You looked at him expectantly and he led you towards the bathroom—one of the larger ones because he thought he would die if he was trapped in a small, enclosed space with you after he just spilled his drink all over you.

He opened the door, flicking the light on before stepping aside and letting you head inside. Except, the world seemed to have something against him, you dragged him into the bathroom behind you, your hands still connected, and grinned at him.

“Help a girl out?”

Luke cleared his throat but nodded.

He tried not to think too hard when you eventually dropped his hand. He tried not to think too hard when you locked the bathroom door. He tried not to think too hard as you glanced at him through the mirror.

And he was doing well until you went and pulled your shirt over your head.

His eyes widened, a spluttered noise of surprise leaving his lips as his eyes instantly snapped to the ceiling. But it was useless, he could already feel his blush crawling down his neck and burning hot.

“Relax,” you laughed. “I’m not giving you the full show. Just need to get this stain out.”

“Mhm,” he hummed but his eyes remained on the ceiling.

“Luke?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh huh.”

You let out a hum, like you didn’t quite believe him but you didn’t seem to push further. Instead, he heard the tap turn on and the water started running and suddenly, the bigger bathroom didn’t feel big enough.

“I’m not a creep!” He blurted out.

You paused. “Is that why you are staring at the ceiling? To prove you aren’t a creep?”

“No, well—” He cut himself off and let out a deep breath. “No, I just…your friend called you Cherry down there. You gave me a different name. I just…didn’t want you to think you had to give me a fake name because I was a creep. Granted, you don’t owe me anything but I just wanted to assure you—”

“Luke?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think you’re a creep. And I didn’t lie about my name either,” you said, your voice a little softer this time. “People just call me Cherry.”

And for a boy who ate, lived and breathed a sport that classically gave stupid nicknames to everyone and everything, he had never felt quite this dumb.

“Oh.”

“Are you going to look at me now?”

He waited for a moment. And then another. And then, before he chickened out of it, he lowered his gaze until he met yours—and didn’t let his eyes wander any further.

“You’re an interesting boy,” you mused, tilting your head to the side.

His brows furrowed together. “Thank you?”

You grinned at his response before you turned back to the sink, seamlessly continuing to scrub your shirt under the running tap.

Luke watched you for a few moments, trying to just stew in the silence and let you do your work. But the seconds kept ticking by and the silence was becoming more stifling and there was only so much he could handle before he wanted to rip his eyes out.

“I’m sorry about my brother, by the way,” he said when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “He’s a lil’ enthusiastic but he means no harm.”

“He seems quite desperate to get you laid,” you noted, your eyes briefly finding him in the mirror again. “A lot of your friends do.”

His cheeks burned again. “They do that with everyone. They just like to be wingmen, you know?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly on him. “But it makes you uncomfortable.”

You say it like a fact, not a question.

Luke choked a little. “Well—”

“Why not just tell them to back off?” You questioned and Luke welcomed the fresh, bitter twinge of embarrassment that washed over him.

“Because they would ask questions,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just easier to let them mess about.”

You looked intrigued now. “Why?”

Luke shifted under the intensity of your gaze. “Because then they would ask why I didn’t want to hook up with anyone.”

You raised your brows. “Not a one-night stand kind of man?”

And honestly, he should have just cut the conversation there. He should have deflected the topic onto something else or gave some vague answer. Hell, even telling you to mind your own business was a better answer. But the alcohol made him feel buzzed, your presence was overwhelming and—for the first time in his life—Luke found himself blurting out the words he swore he would take to the grave.

“Because I’m a virgin.”

You blinked. And he fucking waited for it.

He waited for you to laugh. He waited for you to laugh and howl and cackle at his pathetic admission. To mock him, to tease him, to make him feel worse than he already felt. He waited and waited and waited.

And it never came.

“And you can’t tell them that?” You questioned.

“I, uh,” Luke shook his head, his stomach somersaulting inside him in the worst ways possible. “No, it’s a little…taboo in my line of work.”

You turned to actually look at him instead of gazing at him in the mirror. “Are you a sex worker?”

Luke spluttered, shaking his head. “What? No! No, I…I’m a hockey player.”

You frowned a little. “Hockey players can’t be virgins?”

“Well, it’s not like a set rule but like,” he paused, waving his hands around like that explained everything. But you still looked confused and Luke knew he had to keep talking. “Everyone just kinda expects hockey players to be some kind of…sex god. Or something. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s not really common to be a virgin in the league.”

“Okay,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest—where you still stood in only a bra covering yourself. “So, like, are you a virgin…by choice?”

“Oh my god,” Luke groaned, bringing his hands to cover his face before it got even more red.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way!” You assured him. “I was just curious.”

“Nobody was supposed to know,” Luke grumbled into his hands, but you seemed to understand him well enough.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

But the damage was done and Luke wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and drag him into the depths of the Earth.

He needed to get out of this bathroom. He needed to get out and go downstairs, rush through a flurry of goodbyes to the team before he quickly escaped and headed home where he could hide his embarrassment in a large tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream that certainly wasn’t in his meal plan.

He just needed to turn around, unlock the door and slip out before you had the chance to—

“What if I helped you?”

Yeah, that was not what he expected.

His hands dropped from his face as he stared at you, his expression almost blank except for the confusion shining in his eyes. “Huh?”

“What if I helped you?” You repeated.

“Helped me with what?”

“Being a virgin,” you said with a shrug. “It seems like it’s really important to you, or something. And I think you are bigging it up in your head a little more than necessary. Maybe you just need someone to give you a helping hand, you know? Guide you through it, help you learn. No pressure, yeah?”

He blinked. “And…you would do that?”

“Yeah, why not,” you answered honestly with a shrug of your shoulders. “You intrigue me, Luke.”

“I intrigue you,” he repeated slowly, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not a bad thing to be intriguing.”

“It is when you make it sound like I’m some kind of experiment.”

You flashed him a softer smile and something in his chest eased a little. “You don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion. Just…a new friend helping her new friend out.”

New friend.

Luke swallowed. “And…what would you gain from this?”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders again. “Honestly? I’ve had my fair share of disappointing experiences in bed by guys who think they are sex gods. Call it a gift to womankind if I help at least one guy be competent and capable in bed.”

He blinked. “Right. Gift to womankind. That’s me.’

You snorted. “Just think about it, yeah? Obviously, you can go about with whatever you are doing. Just a suggestion to make a casual thing out of it, to help take the stress away. It’s your choice, Luke.”

It was his choice.

He knew it was his choice and, despite knowing little about you, some stupid part of him trusted that you were being genuine. You were odd but you were sincere, and he knew your offer was sincere too. If he took you up on it, you would help him out. If he declined, you wouldn’t push the matter any further and just move on in your life.

No more words were exchanged after that, the offer lingering and the tap still running as the red stain showed no signs of budging under the soap and cold water. He knew he didn’t have to give you an answer there and then.

But the worst part was that Luke was pretty fucking sure he knew what his answer was the first time the offer left your lips.

And he pretty sure the remaining stain on your shirt was some sort of bad omen from the universe that already liked to tease him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was fucking done being a twenty year old virgin and you were his solution to the problem.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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goldfades · 4 months

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★ ALWAYS AN ANGEL, NEVER A GOD ─── CC²² (part 1/2)

❪ requested -> "Can you write something about cc and reader being enemies and hating eachother. but they are on two different teams so they play against eachother and something happens during one of their games and they take their hate out on eachother with smut?" ❫

─ warnings | lots of sexual tension (no smut, yet) slightly angst, reader is on LSU, singular kiss, trash talking, drinking, nothing else

─ ev's notes | okay so i'm not a super LSU fan, i just rly love hailey and angel so those are the only girls included in the fic LMAOOO, anyway. enjoy this heavy ass fic!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

You couldn't stand Caitlin Clark.

Now, you couldn't really remember when this dislike had began. Ever since you laid on eyes on taller brunette, you hated how cocky she was. It wasn't just her cockiness that rubbed you the wrong way; it was the way she seemed to effortlessly outshine everyone around her, both on and off the court.

You watched as she dominated every game, her skills unparalleled, her talent undeniable. It felt like she was born to be a star, while you struggled to keep up. And while her talent was undeniable, it was her attitude that really got under your skin. She seemed to revel in her superiority, never missing an opportunity to remind everyone just how good she was.

But perhaps what bothered you most was the fact that despite your best efforts, you couldn't seem to escape her shadow. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you improved, you were always just one step behind her. It was frustrating, infuriating even, to constantly be compared to someone who seemed so effortlessly perfect.

Well ─ at least, in your eyes. You were still one of the best players in the entire nation, however you were always second best to Princess Caitlin Clark. You'd been the second best prospect in your year, trailing behind her like a persistent shadow. And it wasn't just the comparisons that irked you; it was the constant reminder of your perceived inadequacy, the feeling of always being in her shadow.

You couldn't shake the resentment that bubbled within you every time Caitlin strutted onto the court, her aura of invincibility following her like a shadow. She thrived on the attention, basking in the adoration of fans and teammates alike. Meanwhile, you fought tooth and nail for every scrap of recognition, every ounce of respect that always seemed just out of reach.

That was, until the 2023 NCAA championship.

LSU versus Iowa ─ the most anticipated game of the season, who will take the W? It was the showdown everyone had been waiting for, the clash of titans to determine who would claim the coveted crown of college basketball supremacy.

And at the center of it all were you and Caitlin, two fierce competitors locked in a battle for glory.

You had chugged your redbull and strutted out on the court like you owned it, your eyes landing on the taller brunette who's eyes were already on you. In that moment, you knew that this game would be about more than just basketball; it would be a battle of wills, a clash of titans vying for supremacy. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could almost reach out and touch it.

The media frenzy surrounding the game only added to the pressure, with reporters clamoring for every tidbit of insight from both you and Caitlin. It was the clash of the season, the matchup everyone had been waiting for, and neither of you were about to disappoint.

Everyone felt the tension, the energy crackling in the air like electricity. The media never missed a chance to ask you or Caitlin about it, hyping up the matchup as the game. And as you stood there, facing off against Caitlin across the court, you knew that this was your chance to finally prove yourself, to silence the doubters and cement your legacy once and for all.

"Don't worry, Y/N," Hailey's voice echoed from behind you, you felt her hand your shoulder. "You'll end up winning this. You've trained too hard for anything else."

You nodded, taking in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Even your teammates knew the deep-rooted history with the brunette. It wasn't just about LSU versus Iowa; it was about L/N versus Clark, a battle for supremacy that had captured the attention of fans and media alike.

As the referee signaled the start of the game, you focused all your attention on the task at hand. Caitlin stood across from you, a worthy adversary with a reputation to match. But you were ready, mentally and physically prepared to give it everything you had.

You were tasked to guard her and you weren't planning on letting her get an inch of space. Every move she made, every dribble, every feint, you were right there, anticipating her next move with razor-sharp focus. You could feel the intensity of her gaze, the determination in her eyes as she tried to outmaneuver you.

With each passing minute, you could see the frustration building in Caitlin's dark eyes, the realization dawning that you had expanded your skill set since the last time you'd met. And as the game wore on, you refused to let up, hounding her relentlessly from one end of the court to the other.

Then suddenly with 4 seconds on the clock before halftime, you saw your chance to prove your superiority. With speed, you intercepted one of Caitlin's passes, turning defense into offense in the blink of an eye. With a burst of speed, you drove towards the basket, leaving Caitlin in your wake as you soared through the air for an emphatic dunk.

In that moment, you knew that you had won more than just a single play ─ you had won a psychological battle, proving to Caitlin and everyone watching that you were more than just her equal.

Your teammates surrounded you but the cheers into background as Caitlin gazed at you, her usual determination into pure rage. But instead of feeling intimidated, a sense of satisfaction washed over you, a knowing smile playing at your lips.

You had waited for this moment, trained for it, dreamed about it. And now, as you looked into Caitlin's eyes, you could see the realization dawning on her ─ that you were not just her rival, but her equal, maybe even her superior. She wasn't unguardable, you'd just proven everyone wrong and Caitlin herself was forced to acknowledge it.

"The fuck are you smiling for?" Her words came out harsh as she walked toward you, letting her frustration get the best of her. You met her gaze head-on, unflinching despite the intensity of her glare ─ you felt your smile grow as laughter built up in your stomach, looking up at the brunette.

You couldn't resist a smirk at Caitlin's question, relishing the opportunity to get under her skin just a little more. "Because I just showed the world what real talent looks like," you shot back, your tone dripping with amusement. "Looks like being second best suits you, Caitlin."

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might lash out until her teammate put her hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, well, don't get too cocky," she muttered, her voice tinged with anger. "This isn't over, Y/N. I'll be back, and next time, I won't go easy on you."

You shrugged, undeterred by her threat. "Bring it on, Princess," you challenged, your smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "I'll be waiting ─ and smiling ─ for round two."

"Princess? You've gotta be kidding, who do the fuck do you think─" Caitlin cut herself off with a bitter laugh, shaking her head. She ignored your quip as she walked away, making sure to hit your shoulder as she walked away.

Before you could relish in the moment any longer, you felt Angel's hands on your shoulders as you met her gaze. You squealed in excitement as you both walked off the court toward your team.

The game continued after halftime, each possession a testament to your skill and determination. But no matter how hard Caitlin fought, she couldn't shake the knowledge that you had bested her, not just physically, but mentally as well.

And when the final buzzer sounded, signaling your LSU's victory, you knew that you had achieved more than just a win. You had proven yourself on the biggest stage, against the toughest competition, and emerged victorious.

As you celebrated with your teammates, the realization sunk in that this victory wasn't just about winning a game; it was about overcoming years of doubt and frustration, about proving to yourself and the world that you were capable of achieving greatness.

──

"Caitlin, tough loss out there tonight. How are you feeling after such a close game?" A reporter asked, their voice sympathetic.

Caitlin took a moment to collect her thoughts, her mind still buzzing with the intensity of the game. "Yeah, it's definitely disappointing to come up short like that," she replied, her voice tinged with frustration. "We gave it our all out there, but sometimes things just don't go your way."

But it was the next question that made Caitlin's stomach twist with unease. "Your matchup with Y/N was one of the most anticipated of the season. What was it like going head-to-head with her?"

She hesitated, knowing that whatever she said next would be scrutinized. "Y/N is a talented player, no doubt about it. I've known her for a while, we've played on the same team at some point," Caitlin answered carefully, her words measured. "She brought her A-game tonight, and it made for a tough battle on the court."

The tension in the room seemed to ratchet up a notch as another reporter pressed on. "There seemed to be some tension between you two out there. Can you speak to that?"

Caitlin's jaw tensed momentarily before she forced herself to relax. "Y/N and I have a history, for sure," she replied, her tone diplomatic. "But at the end of the day, it's just competition. We both want to win, and sometimes that can lead to some heated moments on the court. I don't hate her," she paused as she sighed. "She's a good player, props to her. She proved I'm not unguardable,"

Caitlin forced a smile as the reporters laughed, nodding. But it was the final question that caught Caitlin off guard, prompting a genuine, knowing smile to tug at the corners of her lips. "Do you think this game marks the end of your rivalry with Y/N?"

She paused, considering her response carefully. "No, ma'am. It's far from over, I haven't been beat yet,"

The reporters laughed again but she was dead serious. She couldn't wait until next year, she knew LSU would make it to the finals ─ and she'd finally prove to you once and for all, she is number one.

──

"It felt more like sexual tension to me, that's just me though," Hailey spoke up as she swirled her straw in her drink.

Hailey's remark caught you off guard, and you shot her a sharp glare, a mixture of surprise and annoyance flickering in your eyes. But before you could respond, she quickly held her hands up in defense, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," she quipped, her tone light despite the tension in the air. "I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. You should look at twitter. Actually, not right now ─ you're not gonna like it,"

"What do you mean?" You sent the blonde another look as she gave you a thin-lipped smile, shrugging.

Hailey gave you a thin-lipped smile, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just saying, you might want to avoid social media for a little while,"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why? What's going on?" you pressed, your patience wearing thin.

But before Hailey could respond, Angel interrupted, clapping you on the back and dragging you into a group huddle to celebrate the victory. As the cheers and laughter filled the air, you couldn't shake the feeling of annoyance that had settled in the pit of your stomach.

"Wait, wait, I have my film camera upstairs!" You shouted as the team let out a chorus of groans.

"Go get it!"

You grabbed your purse and ran up to the elevator. As you rode the elevator up to your room, your mind raced with thoughts of the game, the victory, and the impending celebration. You were texting your parents, not looking where you were going until you someone stopped you in your tracks, putting their hands on your shoulders.

You looked up to meet Caitlin's dark eyes, your excitement turning into annoyance. Her gaze was intense, and you could feel the weight of her stare boring into you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension thick between you like a tangible force.

"Watch where you're going, you almost bumped into me," her voice was hoarse as your lips turned to a frown.

"Well I didn't," your eyes flickered to her hands, who were still lingering on your shoulders. You caught her gaze as she cleared her throat before slowly withdrawing them.

Neither of you moved, daring the other to break the tense silence that hung heavy in the air. The weight of Caitlin's stare bore into you, her dark eyes searching for something you couldn't quite name. Your own gaze remained locked with hers, a silent challenge passing between you.

"I don't get why you're being a bitch," her words came out soft but there was an edge to them. She didn't look like her usual self, she didn't give off the same energy she did on the court.

"What do you mean?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "It isn't about you, Caitlin. It's about winning and being a bitch is kinda part of the package,"

"No, I don't mean tonight. You always act like I'm the worst person alive, even when we played together. On the court, we were fine and then you didn't wanna talk to me after," Caitlin said, her voice tinged with frustration.

"Yeah, cause not everyone wants to be friends with you, Caitlin," you shot back as her hurt turned into annoyance.

"Yeah but we played well together, and if you'd committed to Iowa, like you said you would we would have been unstoppable," Caitlin's voice grew louder as she furrowed her eyebrows.

You scoffed. "Then I would've committed to a four years of being second to you, like I did All Iowa Attack. Plus I would have if you'd gone to UConn, like you said you would,"

"God, what is your obsession and being second to me!" Her frustration finally boiled over, her voice rising in anger as she locked eyes with you. "You're not even second to me. We're just good at different things and I get a little more recognition than you. Jesus Christ, you're so self-obsessed, not everything is about you."

"No, Caitlin, it's not about being self-obsessed," you shot back, your voice rising to match her intensity. "It's about feeling like I'm always playing second to you, no matter how hard I try."

Caitlin's eyes flashed with frustration, her jaw set in a stubborn line. "And what, you think I enjoy always being the one in the spotlight?" she retorted, her voice tinged with bitterness. "It's not as fun as you think, Y/N. All that recognition comes with its own set of pressures and expectations."

You scoffed, the anger bubbling up inside you. "Oh, cry me a river, Caitlin," you spat, the resentment clear in your tone. "At least you get the recognition. At least people know who you are."

"People know who you are too!" Caitlin's nostrils flared as she took a step closer, her gaze piercing into yours. You didn't even know how close she was until you could feel her body warmth radiating off of her as she looked down at you.

"Yeah, as the sidekick," you shot back, refusing to back down despite the proximity. "Always in your shadow, always second best."

Caitlin's jaw clenched, her frustration palpable as she fought to maintain her composure. "You think I don't know what it's like to feel overshadowed?" she snapped, her voice strained with emotion. "You think I don't feel the pressure to live up to everyone's expectations?"

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Please, Caitlin," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You love the attention. You thrive on it."

Caitlin's gaze bore into yours, her eyes dark with intensity as she took a step closer, the space between you narrowing until there was barely a breath of air separating you. You could feel the heat radiating off her body, her proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

"Is that what you think?" she murmured, her voice low and husky, a hint of something unfamiliar dancing in her eyes. "That I love the attention?"

You swallowed hard, the heat of her gaze searing into your skin, igniting something unfamiliar within you. "Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't like this new attitude, Y/N. I liked it better when used to you shut up and and take the heat," Caitlin interjected, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of Caitlin's words sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. There was something different about her now, something raw that left you both exhilarated and irritated.

"I'm not the one who can't handle a little competition," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you met Caitlin's gaze head-on.

Caitlin's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with anger as she took another step closer, the heat of her body enveloping you in a cloud of desire. "And I'm not the one who needs to prove myself at every turn," she shot back, her voice low and dangerous.

"You're a bitch," you felt breathless as her gaze bore into yours.

"Yeah? Am I?" Her lips quirked into a smirk as she took in your appearance. You were always pretty, everyone knew it ─ people underestimated you, she sure had until tonight.

She wasn't dumb ─ she saw the way you looked at her and underneath all that hatred, she knew that you just wanted a little attention from her. Even after she'd committed to Iowa and you'd committed to LSU, Caitlin could see the way your gaze lingered on her more than it should have.

You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of her gaze, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Despite the anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface, there was something undeniably exhilarating about the way Caitlin looked at you, as if she could see right through to your soul.

"Damn right you are," you shot back, your voice tinged with defiance as you met her gaze head-on.

Caitlin's smirk widened, a glint of something dangerous flickering in her eyes as she closed the distance between you, her body inches away from yours.

"And you love it," she murmured, her voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, Caitlin's lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless, the heat of her touch igniting a fire deep within you.

She pressed her lips against yours harshly and the two of you momentarily decided to forget how you two were in the hotel hallway, where anyone could step out and see this scene unfolding.

"Oh fuck," you moaned into the kiss as she pressed closer, your words muffled against her lips.

But Caitlin didn't seem to care about the risk of being caught, her hands roaming freely over your body as she deepened the kiss, her touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

You melted into her embrace, your mind clouded with desire as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered ─ not the rivalry, not the consequences, nothing but the intoxicating passion that pulsed between you and Caitlin.

Caitlin pulled away harshly, a desperate whimper coming out of your lips as she glared down at you. She licked her lips as she let go of you, your face contorting into annoyance. Was she teasing you?

"What the hell, Cait?" you demanded, your voice laced with a mixture of irritation and longing. "Why'd you stop?"

Caitlin's gaze bore into yours, intense and unreadable, as she licked her lips with a slow, deliberate motion that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a hunger in her eyes, a primal desire that mirrored your own, yet something held her back, a barrier between you that neither of you seemed willing to breach.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

"So you're gonna wait a whole year?" You scoffed, incredulity lacing your tone as you struggled to comprehend Caitlin's reasoning. The idea of waiting seemed absurd, especially in the midst of the intense desire that pulsed between you. "Well good luck, cause we're not going to."

"Yeah, and until you cut the fucking attitude. It doesn't suit you, Y/N." Caitlin's words were sharp, a harsh reminder of the tension that simmered beneath the surface of your interactions.

"Fuck you," you scoffed as she smirked. She just shook her head as she walked away, leaving you alone and so desperately needy.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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0-therw-0-rldly · 21 days

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I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

#I swear y’all are just telling on yourselves for being idiots #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 show #tevan #abc 911 #lou ferrigno jr #911 #kinley #rants #anti buddie #anti bobs

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getosfavoritewife · 9 months

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The Sun Always Rises

✮⋆˙ General Jing Yuan has a way of bringing sunlight to you, regardless of how much you avoid the warm rays. (1.5k words)

✮⋆˙ A/N: first post!! jing yuan has such a lazy/cozy feel and I'm still trying to gauge his personality so sorry if it's a bit ooc!!

✮⋆˙ Warning(s)/Content: forgemaster!reader; implications of mental health concerns (nothing heavy); can be read as platonic or romantic; fluffy fluff, teasing

✮⋆˙ jing yuan x gn!reader

Hearing three knocks against your door on a sunny winter evening could only signify one thing.

Not even trying to conceal the lack of surprise on your face, you open the door for your expected visitor; as usual, Jing Yuan greets you with a pleasant smile, hands comfortably clasped behind his back as he strides in like he owns the place, opens the curtains, and makes himself at home.

“Arbiter General,” you murmur, almost as if scripted.

“Forgemaster,” he replies in turn with a twinkle in his eyes, also as expected.

You don’t ask if he wants tea, opting to pour two cups and place them on the table as you both sit down. Forgemaster Yingxing had always taught you to be polite to guests, but that was a very long time ago, and Jing Yuan wasn’t just any guest.

“There’s a festival in Aurum Alley this evening,” Jing Yuan muses as he eyes the tea with interest, picking the small cup up as he gives the hot liquid a gentle blow and careful sip.

You know where he’s going with this, so at this point, the best course of action is feigned indifference and avoidance. “And you came all the way over here to let me know? Especially during such a busy day at The Seat of Divine Foresight?”

You take a ginger sip of the tea, grimacing as it burns the tip of your tongue, before placing it back down on the table. Master Yingxing’s tea was far superior to yours anyway—if he could see the hot garbage you’d brewed, he would have scolded your skills all afternoon.

Jing Yuan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Astute as always. You should get out of the house more.”

“I leave the house,” you try not to sound defensive, squinting at the man sitting across from you. “I go to the forge every day.”

“Other than there?”

“And… I went to the market last week,” you grumble, rooting around in your brain for excuses. Lamely, all you come up with is a throwaway line about being too busy that you know Jing Yuan won’t buy. Anyone else would accept the lies that rolled off your tongue like second nature, but not Jing Yuan. He knew you and your habits all too well.

He stands up, dusting his pants off with a lazy smile. “Wonderful, grab your coat.”

“No, Jing Yuan. No.” You respond too quickly, shooting up as you wrack your brain for an excuse.

The softness with which he calls your name is lost to the roaring silence of the room and you know what face he’s making without even looking.

That corner above the cupboard really needs dusting. Master Yingxing would sneeze because of the dust, and he’d blame allergy season. Maybe tonight—

“Only for a little while,” he coaxes, as he swipes a strand of hair from obscuring your eyes. Maybe that’s what makes you meet his eyes: golden and full of life as usual, albeit with his dark circles that seemed worse than before.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh tiredly, reaching up to run your fingers under his eyes. “You should sleep more, Jing Yuan. You look tired.”

A laugh rumbles out of him at that as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You can’t help but let the corners of your mouth quirk up in response. “Don’t let the others at The Seat of Divine Foresight hear you say that.”

“If only you would stop sneaking away at the sight of paperwork, maybe they wouldn��t be so wary of your work ethic,” you scold halfheartedly.

Jing Yuan simply watches you, an adoring smile peeking out that makes you want to push him away from you, embarrassed. Instead, you card your fingers through his hair, murmuring how his ribbon is coming loose as you free it from his snowy locks.

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as you tug through his fluffy hair, replicating his usual hairstyle with practiced ease. You let your thoughts wander to when you used to re-tie his hair every day after it came loose during sparring while Master Yingxing went to go meet with sword master Jingliu and the others.

“How’s Yanqing’s training coming along?” Breaking the delicate silence, your voice always sounds unfamiliar these days; the results of less use, you suppose.

A golden eye cracks open to peer at you, and Jing Yuan lets out another sigh, this time more rueful. “You know how he tends to be. It still surprises me the speed with which he is able to pick up on new techniques and skills, but that obsession with winning and losing…” Jing Yuan trails off. “It’s like I say, if you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child.”

“It’s a difficult age. Remember how you used to be?”

You bite back a snicker at the mock-offended look Jing Yuan shoots you.

“I don’t quite remember it like that,” he says. “I believe I was a joy to be around at every age.”

“I’m sure you remember it like that.”

“How else could you remember it?”

You take a break from playing with his hair to flick him on the forehead, at which he lets out a soft hiss, rubbing the small red mark and catching your hand before you can give him another one. “So mean.”

With a scoff, you make no move to remove your hand from his grip, letting yourself relax in his grasp. “You were nothing short of a terror. Anytime I tried to hang out with you it was always ‘Let’s spar here!’ or ‘Extra training is basically hanging out!’. I got so sick of you that I told Master Yingxing to stop meeting Master Jingliu when I was around.”

“Was I… really like that?” You can’t help but laugh at Jing Yuan’s face, ignoring the smile creeping onto his face at the sight of your laughter.

“All I’m saying is that he’ll grow out of it, just like you did. Kids are desperate to prove themselves at that age. You ought to praise him a little more,” you advise him softly.

“I give praise where it is deserved,” Jing Yuan places your clasped hands on his chest with fake affrontedness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he huffs in amusement.

“Yet I am expected to praise you even when you are undeserving?”

“I hadn’t realized there were times where I was ever undeserving of praise?” You can’t help to smack him with the hand that was resting on his chest as he pretends to ponder.

“Speaking of Yanqing though—” you start before Jing Yuan interrupts.

“I thought we were speaking about me?”

The roll of your eyes seemed to simply be an intrinsic reaction to Jing Yuan’s teases after all these years of dealing with his painfully fatherly sense of humor.

“General.”

The pleased smile on his face only curled higher. “I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, Yanqing’s birthday is approaching this month. Maybe it’s time he finally receives a sword from the Forgemaster on his birthday this year?”

“I can already imagine his tears of joy. He still asks when he can meet you sometimes. I admit I have yet to give him an answer in fear that he will spend every moment not used for training to instead bother you incessantly at your forge.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose. Send him around—it’s truly no bother. It would also help me figure out a suitable blade for him.”

You pretend to not see the way Jing Yuan’s brows knit together at your teasing jab.

“Come watch us train sometime soon. To help you gauge his fighting style, of course,” Jing Yuan remarks lightly.

“Of course,” you echo. Giving him a look before sighing, you grab your coat off the hook, opening the door for him as you slip it on. “Only for a little while at the festival, please. And no buying or winning me anything while we’re there.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t even try to hide the smile unfurling on his face and you know the next words that come out of his mouth are bound to be an easy lie. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Forgemaster.”

From spending every free minute together as kids to only seeing him when he came knocking on your door every single day. No matter what happened, the sun always rose the next day. And no matter what happened, your Jing Yuan was always there.

thanks for reading!! ✮⋆˙

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beelmons · 1 year

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I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you.

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed.

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds.

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.”

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted.

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied.

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was.

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.”

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing.

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip.

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers.

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out.

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.”

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick.

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time.

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.”

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out.

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately.

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat.

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating.

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth.

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open.

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again.

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left.

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away.

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment.

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?”

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite.

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.”

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained.

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.”

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited.

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless.

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room.

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again.

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out.

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body.

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit.

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.”

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again.

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said.

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

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bookmaker-untaken · 3 months

Text

your husband stays getting on your last nerve

Hayato Suo x Reader // Wind Breaker x My Happy Marriage AU

Summary: The first tranquil image of this man was highly misleading. Suo Hayato's calm facade hides a cheeky devil that loves to tease, and unfortunately - you are the perfect (blushing) target.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Making Out, OOC!Suo, Probably (Look, I Tried), Non-Graphic Torture, Implied/Reference Abuse

Word Count: 4,106

The man before you is the most beautiful you've ever seen.

He's leaning his cheek on his fist, a scroll rolled out over his lap. Cherry blossoms fly around the courtyard in a colorful tornado, some crossing the threshold and dotting the bright wood.

The wind rises to ruffle his brown hair.

"Hello," He croons. "Might you be my new wife?"

Your mouth feels dry. Everything - your fist, your jaw - is clenched tightly. "I- uh, yes."

His smile is polite, close - lipped, and his one eye is closed as well.

You can't read his face and it disquiets you.

"Lovely to meet you," He says. "I am Suo Hayato."

ii.

The first tranquil image of this man was highly misleading.

Suo Hayato's calm facade hides a cheeky devil that loves to tease, and unfortunately - you are the perfect (blushing) target.

You try to avoid them as much as you can, but it's not always enough.

Suo stares at you across the breakfast table. He's always watching, observing.

It freaks you out, warms your cheeks. "What."

He leans his chin on his palm. "You're cute."

"Huh!" You almost choke. How can he say such a thing so nonchalantly!?

The smile never leaves his face. "I just think your cute. I'm happy to have such a cute little wife,"

You are not little, or cute, but what comes out instead is, "I'm not your wife."

"Yet," He hums. "But you will be. And I, for one, am looking forward to it."

You cough. "Sure."

At least the maid, Yurie, does not share her young master's penchant for teasing. You were worried at first, not that you'd tell anybody, that she would dislike you as the maids at your house had.

To be wrong was a startling relief.

iii.

You have a few dreamless nights before the nightmares return.

In your dreams there are no monsters - only your mother and her mother, pelting you with subtle insults and ignoring your pleas.

You awaken in the middle of the night, eyes wet.

Unable to sleep, you start to make your way to the kitchen.

Across the courtyard, in an open door, sits Suo beside a kettle of tea.

His eye is closed and he seems tranquil, enjoying the cool night breeze on his face.

You retreat.

You will not allow him to see such weakness.

iv.

"I was asked to attend a banquet by my superior," Suo says. “I'd like you to come."

"Alright," You say, despite the very idea making your sick. Your mind flickers with candlelit dinners and thinly veiled insults.

“We should go shopping," Suo continues. "Your kimonos are from last season, aren't they?"

"I ... suppose," You shift awkwardly and hope he doesn't notice. Shopping, too, is an incredibly sore spot for you.

"Wonderful! It's a date!"

"D-date!" You jerk to attention. "It's not a date!"

"Why not?" Suo says, pout in his voice. "The two of us are going to do something fun together, aren't we?"

"It's just shopping! That's more like - a mission! Yes, a mission."

Suo seems to think for a second. "No, I like date better."

You scoff in disbelief.

The town is bustling, full of throngs of people moving to and fro like a rushing lake, some harking their wears, some enjoying the nice weather.

You stay close to Suo, careful not to get lost.

So close, you walk into his back when he stops.

"Hayato!" The person at the counter cheers. "And who is this?"

"My wife," Suo says easily.

"H-his fiancée!" You stutter.

"Same thing," He says. "This is Tsubaki. Their family has made kimonos for the Suos for generations, though I do prefer Tsubaki's unique patterns and eye for design."

Something about being preemptively called a Suo makes you cheeks warm despite yourself.

"What a flatter, am I right?" Tsubaki grins at you. "At your service!"

You give a polite nod. "Nice to meet you."

Fabric brushes against your shoulder and you turn to a kimono - a very expensive kimono, more expensive than anything you've owned - being held up beside you. "Hmm. No."

"Do you have any sort of patterns or colors you like?" Tsubaki asks. You realize too late that the question is directed to you.

You take your eyes from Suo to stare at them blankly. "Um?" Normally, your used to being told exactly what to wear, dressed up like a little doll at the mercy of others. "Surprise me?"

"Sure!" Tsubaki disappears further into the store.

Suo stands beside you, far too close. "Your in good hands. Tsubaki has excellent taste," You can feel the heat of his breath and lean away slightly on instinct. “I'm sure they'll find something amazing.”

"Okay," You say, trying to keep any hint of nervousness out of your voice.

“Though," He says, near the tips of your warming ears. "I'm sure you'll look wonderful either way."

You arch away from him. "Sure!"

Your thankful when Tsubaki comes around the corner. "What about this one? Would you like to try it on?"

You glance to Suo. "You can do whatever you wish," He says. "We'll probably end up buying a few, anyway."

You follow Tsubaki to the fitting room.

"Would you mind ... waiting outside, please?"

Tsubaki looks slightly confused. "Are you sure? It might be hard to get into some of them alone."

"I ... please."

"Of course."

In the mirror, you seem distorted. You're vaguely aware that you've seemingly gained some wight, a consequence of them feeding you well at the Suo household - but a potential target nonetheless. Your stretch marks ripple across your skin, shining lightly in the sunlight that sneaks though the top windows of the shop.

"It looks nice on you." Suo looks up when you walk out. "Do you like it?"

You pause. Do you? You don't know. "I -"

"You hesitated."

You slump, but go back into the fitting room.

Again you emerge, bashfully asking, "How about this one?"

"How about it?" Suo asks, seemingly fishing for an answer.

"No!" calls Tsubaki from the front of the store. "Not it!"

You return with the final kimono of the stack, padding your way out of the fitting room.

Suo's eye widens a fraction and he swallows.

You instinctively sink into yourself at the intensity of his gaze.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Tsubaki says, bouncing over and turning you around. Looking between the two of you, they say, "Hey, this kimono is the same color as your eyes, Hayato!"

You look down, meeting the slightly hooded eye of your fiancée.

Tsubaki's right.

"What do you think ... Suo?"

Suo's eyes flicker up, then down once more. For not the first time, you wish he was easier to read. "We're taking that one home Tsubaki.”

vi.

You try on a few more Kimonos before waving goodbye to Tsubaki.

The sun has risen higher and the streets seem even more crowded, if that where even possible.

Suo takes your hand.

His hand engulfs your own - unnaturally cold, fingers long.

You stop in your tracks with a sound like a record scratching.

"I don't want to lose you, dear," He says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You don't need to hold my hand, though!"

"Of course I do." He says.

The two of you continue, stopping at one of the small stalls for a snack.

It drips down your hand and your eyebrows furrow as you debate licking it up. You feel Suo's eye on you. It would be unladylike.

Suo chuckles at your hesitation. "I'll go get napkins from the stall."

You nod, taking another bite of your food.

For a moment, you feel something... calm.

"Hello there, pretty lady."

The man looms over you, casting a long shadow.

"You seem to be enjoying that treat. How’s about we go into that alleyway and I give you another?"

"I-I'm waiting for my fiancée - " You force out tightly.

He looks down. “I don’t see a ring on that finger. Maybe if I got a closer look?"

He moves to grab your hand and you yank it away, but he's faster.

"Excuse me?" It's Suo's voice - but it's different.The teasing is still there, but his voice is lower. Colder. A dark growl. "Would you kindly unhand my wife?”

"S-suo- " Falls out of your mouth, and you hate how pitiful you sound.

The man turns his head, but you can’t see beyond his large stature. “That’s your man? Why not hang with a real man instead of pretty boy over there?”

Your throat constricts.

And then the man crumples, holding his arm and screaming. Spikes of ice, swirling with snowflakes, split his arm.

"Were my instructions unclear? I told you to get your hands off of my wife."

The man turns to Suo, panting. He starts to run at him, but Suo simply sidesteps the man, flipping him onto his back.

“Are you hurt?" He walks over to you and you shrink away on instinct. His lips quirk in a thin line.

"N-no."

He holds out a hand. "Can I see?"

Reluctantly, you extend your arm. He takes it gingerly, eye darkening at the blooming bruise.

"I'm alright," You find yourself saying, more for him than for you.

He sighs. "If I had been even a moment later, you might not have been."

"But you came."

Suo doesn't respond, eye swirling with unidentifiable emotions. He releases his gentle hold on your arm. "Let's go home."

When he takes your hand again, you don't argue.

vii.

You let out a sharp exhale of pain and bring your finger to your mouth, the salty taste blooming on your tongue.

You feel stupid standing in the Suo estate kitchen in an inappropriately fancy kimono over a boiling pot of water.

You'd never cooked alone before, so you didn't exactly know why you'd thought you should try it now. You could hear the low hiss of voices in your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut before opening them determined.

You would pay him back for his kindness.

You went to retrieve another bandage, returning to continue your clunky cuts.

The result was ... very ugly.

You were not going to serve this to Suo. Knowing him, he'd probably tease you for it. The voices were getting louder.

You weren't fit to be a wife -

"Hmm? And what might you be doing?"

You jerk. "Suo! I - " Your eyes dart around. You'd lost track of time, and now he was already home before you could disregard the evidence. The familiar heat warmed your cheeks.

"Could it be?" He moves smoothly into the kitchen, eye closed and smile curling. "My darling wife has made something for me?"

"No!" You squeak, heat crawling up to your ears. "Y-your mistaken! I was just tasting something - "

"Oh? Well, I'd like a taste, too. As you can imagine, I'm properly famished after a hard day's work."

You open your mouth to refute it but can't.

"...Go sit." You grumble.

"Hmm?" He leans forward slightly, and your chest pounds.

"Go sit!" You snap.

You concentrate on plating his food and setting it in front of him, before moving back. Your blush-darkened fingers hold on to the tray for dear life.

He raises the spoon to his mouth in a delicate, measured moment, chewing slowly. You want to scream.

"Delicious!" He says, grinning, taking another bite. "You did this by yourself?"

You don't meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yurie is busy enough," I don't want to be a burden, you don’t say.

"It's kind of funny looking - " He says, smile unchanging.

" - Why you - "

"But it's really good!"

"It's no big deal," You say, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, eyes falling to your hands. You immediately try to hide them in the sleeves of your kimono. "I'm grateful to have such a loving wife."

"Just eat." You grumble.

viii.

The night of the bequest arrives faster than you'd anticipated.

You arrive stiff, but begin to loosen up when the plum wine begins to flow and your fiancée's fellow soldiers - Haruka and Akihiko - begin to regale you with tales of your husbands great skill and fortitude.

You commiserate with Haruka about how teasing he is, and Akihiko how mysterious.

"He is rather mysterious," You agree, laughing along.

During the night you feel a hand sneak it's way around your waist, you look up at Suo with a quirked eyebrow.

He doesn't smell drunk and he doesn't move his hand.

You blush all the way down to your fingertips.

"Alright," Suo says eventually. "It's time for me to take my darling wife home."

He leaves relatively quickly, tugging you by the wrist.

"Suo?" Your brows furrow. "Is something wrong? Suo?"

He doesn't answer. This increases your worry. What had you done wrong?

"... Suo?" He turns around then, stepping forward and caging you against the wall.

"You seem to be enjoying discussing how "teasing" and "mysterious" I am with my colleagues."

There's a different quality in his voice that you can’t read again, different still from that day in the market.

He is smiling, though.

"B-but you are!" You squawk in your defense, eyes darting around and quickly realizing you have nowhere to run.

"I'd tell you if you only asked,"

"Would you really?" You look up at him with something akin to hope.

His eyes dart down, and he looks as he's contemplating something. The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. "Yes."

"So - so - " You stutter when he gets closer. "Are you ... mad with me?"

His eyes dart to meet yours once more. "Mad with you?"

"It's just that we left so suddenly, and I didn't mean to embarrass you, if I did - "

Suo's lips claim yours and you freeze. They move hotly against yours and you struggle to keep up with the slow dance he's leading. All you can think to do is hold your shaking grasp on his kimono under his army uniform as he grasps you tightly by the waist and seems to try to eat you alive.

He runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, but you don't respond.

"Open," He murmurs, without breaking the kiss.

"Huh? Why - " But he's upon you again, tongue exploring your mouth as you quake against him. He finally pulls away connected by a translucent string, scanning your face - the tears gathering in your lashes, your scrunched nose, your kiss bruised lips.

He kisses down to your jaw, then nips.

"D-did you just bite me?" You stammer.

"Oh, love," He coos. "That was hardly a bite."

He presses more kisses to your neck and then bites, hard, and it draws a sound out of the back of your throat that mortifies you.

You want to melt into the wall. Your hand flies up to try to cover your mouth, but he catches you by the wrist - pinning it against the bricks.

"Uh uh. I want to hear," He says, biting down again.

You do, indeed, reward him with another sound that chokes into a gasp when his cooling tongue soothes over the bite.

He moves away, eyes falling to your lips once more.

"Oops!" Suo pulls away, a smug quality to his smile. "Got a bit carried away there, didn't I!"

You stare at him, wide eyed, heaving and disheveled. Your cheeks are on fire.

"Sorry, love," He says innocently, rubbing circles on your hip with his thumb, as if he hadn’t just kissed you senseless.

You can't meet his eyes. You don’t know what to say first, but what comes out: "D-did you have to bite me?"

"Oh?" He asks, eye glinting. "Absolutely."

ix.

You can't wipe this kiss ... er, well, kisses - from your mind.

It's all you can think about.

You feel like a silly school girl, unable to stop your mind from wondering to his darkened eye swimming with ... desire, you suppose.

You didn't know what you'd done to deserve such a look!

You weren't even a very good wife or anything!

Hell, until he'd kissed you like that - you'd never really known he'd ... you'd just thought you where to be married on paper and nothing more.

Ug, you could still feel his lips moving on yours.

You really hated this!

When you almost chopped your hand off again helping Yurie prepare a meal, you decided that you where going to confront him about this.

You stood in front of the door to his office.

You where going to confront him!

But ... how exactly?

What would you say?

You hear a familiar chuckle on the other side of the screen. "Are you going to just keep standing there, or are you going to come in?"

You, very ungracefully, slam the door open.

Suo smiles at you.

You stomp across the mat, sitting before him.

Your hands fidget in your lap, already starting to darken with a blush. "About - about the other day."

"You mean when I kissed you outside of the banquet?"

Despite your embarrassment, your happy he doesn't beat around the bush. "Yes. Um, why."

"Why?" He echoes, brow quirked.

"Yes, why."

He tilts his head. "Because I wanted to?" He says. "Can't I kiss my future bride?"

You slam your hand down. "Not like that you can't!"

"Did you like it?"

"I - " You stammer, eyes darting around.

"It's alright if you did," He coaxes.

"It ..." You shift. "Surprised me."

"Really? But I've been flirting with you this whole time!"

You squint at him. "You've been messing with me! You say weird things all the time! I never know when you’re joking or not!”

"I've been honest with you," He says. "Very honest. In fact, so honest I deserve another kiss."

"You can't just decide -! "

"Please?" He says. "If not now, then when? If I have to wait too long again, it's going to build up like last time - and I don't think you want that."

"Look!" You hold a hand out to stop him from approaching you. "You can do it again! Just ... less. It was a bit ... too much ..."

"Hmm," He puts a finger to his chin as if thinking. "You where shaking,"

"Shut up!" You snap.

You move forward on your knees to him with the intent of shutting him up but you falter half way when you catch him looking at you in that way again. It's intense, weighty.

"I - " You swallow. You gulp, looking down at his lips - you can feel his breath.

You will yourself to move.

"Young master, breakfast!" Yurie's voice chimes.

You fall forward into his lap and start to skitter backwards, but he catches your wrist.

"Oh! Is the mistress in there with you? Breakfast!"

"Coming!" Suo sings back, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist as he looks up at you.

You quiver, looking down at him with wide eyes.

"Let's go eat," He says lowly. "Shall we?”

One minute your shopping with Yurie, and the next minute you are gone.

When you awaken, a familiar stands over you face stands over you. "Mother?"

The woman looks down at you. "Mother, what are you - "

"There was no there way."

"What-what do you mean?"

"That man - he wouldn't let us see you, even when we called the marriage off."

"What?" You ask, mind racing. "Why would you do that?"

She frowns. "I do not need to explain myself to you."

"But I - "

"What? Love him?" She laughs. "Do you think he loves you?"

You pause. Could he? You remember the kimonos, and how he held your hand so gingerly, and the the kisses he'd spared after the first one that always turned searing. Yurie had laughed at the two of you, murmuring something about young love to herself.

"He does." You say, steadfast.

Something in your eyes glints and your Mother turns away.

"Well. It matters very little."

Suddenly you remember that look in his eye that day in the marketplace - the icy chill in his voice.

"Mother," You say, and she looks at you. "For your safety, I would request you return me to Suo. I ... I don’t want him to hurt you.”

She laughs again. "Bluffing won't save you dear." Her laughing cuts off, eyes dull and exhausted. "Not even I can do that."

xii.

The room they keep you in is dark, undisturbed - until the man in a suit and fedora comes.

He hurts you, plain and simple.

Your parents had done many things, but they had never laid a hand on you. The pain is unfamiliar and hard to bear.

And after what could have been days or hours, something strange happens.

The man moves to hurt you again and it bounces off. He tries again and his attack slides off of the iridescent bubble once more.

He seems satisfied with this, sporting a toothy smile that could make milk curdle.

He goes for another blow, then seizes. Icicles sprout from his chest.

The temperature of the very room drops, freezing the tears on your cheeks.

Your savior comes into view, eye hard and merciless. Cold air streams from his lips.

"Suo ... " You rasp, lips quirking. You are too weak to smile.

He gathers you into his arms immediately, holding you against him. "I'm sorry I took so long to find you, my love. But I'm here now."

"Everything ... " Pain flickers across your face. "...Hurts..."

He's clutching you so tightly. “I know, my heart, I know."

"Hayato - " You say, and you feel him freeze against you. "Hayato, I - "

"Shut up." He grits out.

"But, I - "

"Won't die here. Keep your eyes open for me."

"But I'm so tired," You say. "And..."

"You won't leave me," He snaps. "I won't let you."

"I won't," You agree, eyes lowering. "Hayato, I - "

"Shut up!"

"I ... love you..."

xiii.

Hayato is strange after that.

Both close and extremely far.

He stays silently glued to your side, even after he's sure your family is no longer powerful enough to take you from him, again, he still insists on coming with you to every shopping trip and excursion he can - asking you to postpone if otherwise.

He doesn't say those three words back.

You try not to be hurt about it, and continue on as normal as possible. Well, as normal as your injuries allow.

In time, your Mother's words begin to eat away at you.

Maybe you were mistaken after all.

You approach Hayato in the courtyard, taking a deep breath, saying his name.

He opens his eye to look up at you.

You take another deep breath, wring your hands. "I understand ... if after what my family has done - the grave insult they have caused ... if you do not wish to marry me anymore."

He looks truly taken aback, which would be funny in any other circumstance.

The brunt of his focus is heavy. "And if you left here? What would you do then?"

"I ... don't know," You admit, looking away. "But ... I wouldn't be a burden to you any longer."

"That's what you think I see you as?" He murmurs, more to himself than you.

You shift.

"Do you know," He asks, in a strangely hoarse voice. "Do you know how I felt when I saw you lying there? Beaten? Broken?"

You stay silent.

"It took everything in my being not to kill them all."

You glance to him and he's looking at you.

There is no remorse or regret in his eye.

"You don't deserve the love of any more monsters."

Your fists curl at your side. "You - you take that back."

His eye widens slightly at your tone.

“You - you saved me."

He starts to open his mouth, but you’re faster.

"I was afraid I was going to die there, all alone, in the dark, but you came for me!" You say, unshed tears in your eyes as you yell. "And you! You don't get to talk about the man I love like that!"

Hayato stays silent.

"And you - you love me too!" You accuse. "And you don't have to say it back, right now. Or at all, if you don't feel that way - ”

"I love you." He says, breathlessly.

"Oh," You says dumbly. "Oh."

His hands find your waist, pulling you into his lap. "Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't you say you knew?"

"Well, I wasn't - wasn't completely sure." You grumble. "And - and it's different hearing you - hearing you actually say it."

"I can say it again," He mummers, rubbing circles on your hip. "Until it becomes as natural as breathing."

You cover your face with your hands, wondering if your poor heart can take such a thing.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #suo hayato x reader #windbreaker x reader #hayato suo #my fanfiction

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fangirl-dot-com · 9 months

Text

Chapter 14 - Speed, I am Speed

WE'VE MADE IT TO THE 2024 SEASON. IT IS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!

When I started this fanfic, I never would have thought that people would be interested in it enough for it to get past the first few chapters. But everyone has proved me wrong! Here's to a great fictional season!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN - 6 SPOTS LEFT!

Screams echoed through the paddock as whispers of your arrival seeped through the cracks of the buildings. The drivers watched with smiles as crowds of girls, boys, and adults alike flooded the entrance area to maybe catch of glimpse of you. Only a select few would be lucky enough to get a signature or for you to even take what they offered. But that didn’t damped the electric atmosphere that was quickly building.

The moment you scanned your card and stepped through the turn-style, all hell broke loose.

Max stood next to Christian in the garage that was placed in the middle. The Ferrari garage was to the right, and McLaren sat to the left.

“Quite popular. Isn’t she?” a stray mechanic commented as he worked on one of the RB20s.

Christian only smirked. “She’s great for the media that’s for sure.”

Max stepped through the entrance to wait for you. He was already in his Red Bull kit with a signature can in his grasp. He watched as you quickly signed multiple things and stopped to take few pictures. He noticed that you really only stood still for the squirming kids who really looked nervous to be next to you.

You were hastily ushered farther into the paddock as you were a tad bit late. The outfit you had on was similar to Max. Jeans adorned your legs while a Red Bull polo was hidden behind your famous blue bomber jacket. Dark red sneakers completed the look. A winter flavored red bull sat comfortably in your hand. You had talked to Max about how the flavor was far superior than his preferred original. He would only eyeroll and then sip his own can.

A bright smile shone on your face as the cameras clicked around you. Video cameras followed your every move.

Lando and Charles had joined Max. They too were in their respective Ferrari and McLaren kits. The bright orange clashed with the bright red, while Max was the neutral navy between. Some cameras were pointed their way hoping to get a few shots of a not so common friendship and a decade old rivalry turned friendship. Yet, the trio’s attention was all on you.

You had finally gotten to the garage. However, you completely missed the three and walked right in, excited to greet your mechanics, Christian, pit crew, and Mitch. The one thing the crew all liked about you was that you made sure to try to say hello and check in with how they were doing.

You had surprised everyone with coffees or other drinks for preseason testing as a way to share your appreciation.

As you went around the garage, you gave a quick side hug to Christian and then walked over to Mitch. Your eyes lit up at the sight of another familiar figure next to your strategist. You stood and talked to the two.

While you stood there, completely oblivious to the three men standing outside, they of course didn’t miss anything.

Lando stood there with open eyes. “Did she just walk right past us?”

Max just continued to be unbothered and sipped his drink.

Charles had a familiar knowing look in his eyes. “Who is she talking to mate?”

The British driver scoffed and waved his hand. “Her strategist.”

The Dutchman sighed before maneuvering the papaya man to a better angle.

“Can you see now?” The driver in red questioned as he smirked at the now visible scene.

“Oh.”

The three stared as you talked to your best friend, who was now clad in a Sky Sports polo and khaki pants. You threw your head back as you laughed at something the younger Monegasque had said. Mitch also chuckled where she stood.

Finally, your head turned and eyes made contact with steel blue ones. Your smile somehow got even bigger at the sight of the Dutchman and you other friends. You said something short to the two around you. Arthur gave you a side hug before he ducked out the side entrance, probably going to get ready for the driver’s parade. You’d hope that he was the one to interview you.

You were now making your way to the other three drivers. Your maroon Red Bull was still in your hands.

“Top of the afternoon to you gentlemen,” you spoke in a posh accent. Lando rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up that was a good impression. You’re just a hater.”

“As if. You live there now, you could at least learn how to properly speak.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You barely live there anyway now. You should be talking like Charles if you expect me to be able to finesse a British accent.”

“Oh so now I have to speak in some hoity toity French accent?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused Charles.”

“Stay out of this Max.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re all pretty, but let’s save the fighting for the track,” a new voice that was attached to one Oscar Piastri sounded as he walked up to the four of you.

“What’s up pastry?” you asked him. “And where is your better half?” Your eyes ran wild around the paddock.

“Uh who?”

“You know? The smell of gunpowder and the cry of eagles follow him where ever he walks?”

Oscar sent you a deadpan look and sighed like a middle-aged dad. He turned just a bit to show the bright blue suit that belonged to the American Williams driver. He was looking at an iPad before he suddenly sensed five pairs of eyes on him. He looked up, grinned stupidly, and waved. You were glad to wave back, while the four men waved small ones.

“He’s such an iPad kid.”

“So are you,” Max finally. You squawked like a bird as you stared at him.

“If I’m one, so is Lando. Mr. I play Fortnite all the time.”

Charles was done with your bickering. “Oscar did you need something?”

The Aussie looked so done with everything, but perked up at the question. “Yes. Zach sent me to fetch Lando. We need to get ready for the parade.”

A look of enlightenment crossed over both Lando and Charles’s faces as they said quick goodbyes before turning to go back to their own garages. That left you and Max to stand out in the open. He closed the gap between you and wrapped an arm around you. At that motion, multiple cameras clicked but the two of you didn’t care.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked as the two of you walked into the garage where you’d be escorted to the parade.

“Yep! I mean, you’re starting pole and I’m starting P6, so we’ll see what happens.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug.

“Kid that’s good for your first race.”

“I know. I think I thought that I’d be higher up.”

Max squeezed you a little tighter. “You just have to worry about overtaking George, Lewis, and Lando. Once you get them, you could be forecast for a podium.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d be happy with just staying in the points.”

Christian clapped the your backs as you passed him to line up in the back for the parade. You found a small corner of the room to just sit in. Your headphones had been given to you in your garage, and classical piano music filled the speakers. You knew you probably looked so anti-social right now, but you didn’t care. You needed to find your calm before the storm hit.

Many drivers didn’t even send you a second glance, yet one found himself on the floor next to you. The Monegasque’s cologne filled your nostrils as you put your head on his shoulder. You flashed him a thankful grin as you showed your phone screen.

MON23 was the song that was currently flooding your headphones. Charles rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. Max was the one to come get the two of you once the signal was given that the parade was about to start. You and Max walked out together, and there was Arthur, ready with his microphone.

He turned to the camera that was in front of you. “I am joined by Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n. Thank you for joining me, even if you didn’t have a choice.”

Max and you let out a laugh at the comment.

He continued. “So we saw some domination from the RB20 in the free practices with you Max snatching P1, P2, and then P3 respectively and then taking Pole Position for the first race of 2024. How is the car handling this year and do you expect the same amount of untouchable-ness as last year?”

The Dutchman leaned into the microphone, while you stood next to him waving at the spectators.

“Yeah, well we saw that the Ferraris and McLarens were going to be close after the preseason testing. I was glad that I was able to take pole. I know this one,” he pointed at you which made your attention shift to the conversation, “was wanting a higher position. But the car is fantastic, yet I think that it’ll be a closer year.”

Arthur looked happy with the question as he turned to you.

“So Y/n, we know you’re starting P6. What are you plans for that?”

You huffed as you now talked into the microphone. “Well I plan to just fight as hard as I can. I know that Max and I have very different strategies today. But, overall we just want to bring as many points to get a jump start on the Constructors.”

You were given a nod from some personelle signaling that it was time to wrap thing up.

Arthur turned back to the camera. “Well thank you both for your time and best of luck!”

The two of you were led to a car with an open top. Thankfully for this time, you and Max would be together. Funny enough, they told you to drive. Your eyes widened so much when they handed the keys to you.

You kept turning around asking if this information was correct. Max was just sitting in the car laughing. You climbed in and turned the car on. Once the parade started, you pushed the gas pedal and the car started to move.

The lap around the track was a nice one. Max and you made small talk while waving to the crowds who seemed to yell louder when your attention was turned to them.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in your race suit and helmet in your hand, going over your race strategy one more time with Mitch.

She explained it once more. “So by turn one, you need to be up at least two places. You need to get the jump on George, Lando, and Lewis. They tend to go inside, so going wide will be your best friend even if it seems tricky. You're faster than they are. Try to get up to Max who can give you a tow if needed. And kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Just have fun. Points are points. You don’t need a podium to show your worth.”

You nodded at her revelation and put your balaclava on. Arthur had somehow snuck in to do your handshake beforehand. He knew that it would calm you down just a bit. You slipped your helmet on and connected the different wires. With one foot over the car and the other following suit, you quickly adjusted your race suit before slipping down into the car. One of the mechanics put the screen on the nose for you to go over data and tyre degradation one more time. Your eyes flickered across the screen before it was taken away and your car was pushed out.

At that time, you put your visor down. Your fingers touched where your lips would have been without your helmet and rose to the air. A second ritual you would call it – a special motion for your godfather.

Starting Grid:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

George Russel

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alex Albon

Lance Stroll

Logan Sargeant

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsonda

Daniel Ricciardo

Esteban Ocon

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Valtteri Bottas

Nico Hulkenberg

They put your car on the P6 grid mark and stayed near with the tyre covers. The five guys smiled as you began to move about, nerves making it hard to stay still. Your eyes closed and a smile made its way to your lips.

“Speed. I am speed. One winner, nineteen losers. I eat losers for breakfast.”

“Kid, you know the radio is on right?”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Mitch’s voice.

“Uh now I do.”

Her chuckle came through the speakers in your headphones that where under all the face layers.

“At least we know the radio is working.”

One of the men must have gotten the signal because the tire covers came off and everyone who wasn’t a driver fled the scene. Up ahead, you noticed Max start to drive off. After him was Charles, then Lewis, then Lando, then George. And now it was your turn. Using the pedals, you gently eased your car into movement. You were starting on softs. The team had let you know that you were going for a three stop strategy. Softs, hards, then finish the race on softs. Max was going for the soft, soft, and then hards.

The team were hoping that by putting you on the softs, you’d be able to help Max with the last stint of the race. Softs were your specialty, especially used softs. So the last bit of the race should be your fastest.

Your formation lap consisted of weaving back and forth, warming the tyres up and getting them ready to grip the track. Once you were back in your spot, you were careful not to go over the line and stay in the half box. Your eyes shifted up to watch the lights.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Inhale. Exhale.

Blink.

Your feet hit the pedals before your mind even comprehended. Your head swerved back and forth to look at your mirrors. Behind you, there was the dark green Aston Martin of Fernando Alonso and the other papaya colored McLaren of Oscar. However, the beginning of this track was a giant straight.

With tyres still warm, you quickly got into George’s slip stream and made your move.

For the viewers everywhere, Croft’s voice rang out.

“And it’s lights out and away we go!

"Max Verstappen gets the upper hand on Charles Leclerc on that initial jump but Leclerc is not giving up just yet.

"There goes the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton right behind Charles Leclerc as they go into the first corner of this race. Seems like Leclerc was able to keep his position.

"Oh! And around the outside is Y/n L/n getting the jump on both George Russell and Lando Norris! An overtake on the outside is really tricky but she has made it work for her favor. This rookie is making moves right out the bat.

"I see we have some congestion in the back. Looks like the Haas of Kevin Magnussen has found the side of Alfa Romeo of Valtteri Bottas.

"Let’s have a replay of that beginning shall we? We’ll start onboard with our rookie.”

The camera is on your car as the viewers can see the lights go out and your car lurches forward at the start. Your head swivels as it seems like you’re making sure not to hit the Aston or McLaren that were behind you.

But once you found George Russell’s slip stream, your head stayed straight as you exited to the left of George to go around the outside of both the Mercedes and Lando’s McLaren. As your RB20 continued forward George and Lando quickly left your camera’s view as you now had seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton in your sights.

“And what a great overtake that was on L/n’s part. Let’s head back to see that little kiss between the Alfa and Haas.”

You had now found yourself right behind the Mercedes. Yes, they possibly had the faster car, but you had the pace.

And you were gaining.

You pressed the radio button. “Gap to Hamilton?”

Mitch was quick to respond. “Two point three-seven behind. But you’re gaining two tenths a lap. Keep it up.”

“Thank you.”

In the next nine laps, you were right behind him.

“What is the gap to Leclerc after I get around Hamilton?

“Five seconds. But we will pit before you get there. You have about five laps left before tyre degradation gets too terrible. Use three to get around him and two to widen the gap.”

“Perfect.”

Yet, in about two laps you were right on his tail. Using DRS, you were able to get him on turns 14 and 15 as the DRS was coming to an end.

“And it looks like Y/n L/n is about to make her move on Lewis Hamilton! She goes wide once more on turn 14 and cuts him off by going deep into turn 15, does she have it?

"She does! What a move!”

You fly down the straight with Lewis trying to get back ahead of you. Yet, you were quick with the defensive moves.

“Hamilton is not giving up that spot. Will he be able to take it back at the corner of turn one? He does not gain the position back and has to be fine with fourth for now.”

“Good job. Keep it up.”

“I’m trying,” your voice rattled. In three laps you were called into the pits.

“Looks like Red Bull is calling L/n into the pits for her first stop. Now drivers are losing about 15 seconds so this will put her down back to P8 right after the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz who has gained to positions since the start 14 laps ago.

"And that is a 2.0 second pit stop. Phenomenal for Red Bull whose pit crew seemed to be bored this winter break.”

“Good stop. Can you let the boys know?”

“On it kid.”

“Looks like L/n wants a message relayed to the crew. What a sweetheart she is.”

You apparently were the first one to start the pit stop train, because either one, two, or three laps later the pits were full with cars coming in and out. Like strategy, you were now on hards. Yes, they weren’t your preference but, you needed to change the tyre type at least once during the race: it was mandatory.

You somehow were leading the Bahrain Grand Prix. For about the second half.

Surprisingly, Max had gotten overtaken by Charles right out of the pit exit. You knew you needed to extend the gap between you and the Monegasque Driver, so that you and Max could pit at the same time.

By the 37 lap, you were calling in your radio.

“I need to box. Left tyre is almost dead.”

“Got it. Max is in a good position as well so you will come in and Max will follow. Stay focused.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Looks like the Red Bulls are coming in to box. And who is that as well? Charles Leclerc follows Max Verstappen inside. But there is a significant gap as L/n is already leaving the Bull area with new tyres and Verstappen is getting fixed as well. Leclerc will have to have a perfect pit stop to at least catch up to the two.

"And that is a rather slow stop for Ferrari with a 3.2 second stop. Will this be the mistake that leads to yet another Red Bull 1-2?”

You and Max bolted out of the pit exit once it was safe to do so and you were over the line. You were told to keep giving him the tow for a couple of laps since you were now on the softs while Max was on the hards.

However, after a couple of laps, something seemed off.

You pressed you radio. “It feels like the tyres are wearing down a lot more. Do we have something for that? I could make it to the end, but I might get overtaken.”

“We’re checking. Just keep being nice on the corners. Max has been given the go ahead to overtake you. GP will tell him about your tyres and he should help you keep going.”

“Is this the moment that the Bulls will switch? We know that they’d like to keep their champion at the front as soon as possible. Ah, there it is. Nice pass on the straight going into the fourth corner.”

GP came on over Max’s radio.

“Max, Y/n’s tyres are degrading faster than expected. I’ll keep you updated but she will fall out of DRS or any tow help in about five laps.”

“Are we sure there isn’t anything else to do?”

“Positive. You just keep going. She said that she’s going to try to fend off Leclerc who is gaining 2 tenths per lap but is 3 seconds behind Y/n with 10 more laps to go.”

Max watched you fall out of help-range in the predicted 5 laps. He could catch glimpses of you when he slowed down on the corners but that was about it. All he focused on now was being the first one across the checkered flag.

You were coping brilliantly. By going slower around the corners you were slowing down the tyre deg but also slowing down Charles.

“Gap to Charles and then Max please?”

“Gap to Max is about nine seconds now. And Charles is still gaining and is now in DRS so watch out on the corners.”

“Got it. My tyres are done for and I have no grip. Might be safer to let him pass. I don’t want to pull a George Russell 2023 Singapore.”

“Focus.”

Well, you didn’t thundercunt yourself into a wall, but on the first corner of the last lap, you had a lock up.

“That is a bad lockup for the Red Bull rookie and there goes Leclerc, taking advantage of the small mistake. Props to Y/n though for handling the car well and getting it back on track.”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed as your car went wide allowing Charles to slip by. “Sorry for the language.”

You turned your radio off, a bit embarrassed and annoyed at yourself, not wanting to hear Mitch’s reply.

You tried desperately to catch back up but it was no use. Your tyres were done as you crossed the finish line in third place. You quickly turned your radio back on.

“And good job Kid with points, third place, and a podium on your first race. Congrats.”

“Aaahhhhh thank you team! This was an experience for sure and I can’t wait for the next one! Sorry for that lock up, we’ll get them next time.” Your hand stuck out the top to wave as you drove significantly slower.

“Wasn’t your fault kid. We’ll go over in debrief. Enjoy the celebration, you earned it.”

Max had already parked in the first place spot as he got out of the RB20. He turned and expected to see you in the second place spot, but was a bit disappointed when he saw his childhood rival. His heart sank for a bit as he thought you might have been overtaken more than once. But his spirits rose when he saw your RB20 pull into the third place.

He watched as you stood on the nose and lifted your arms up in celebration, put one down, and keep the other raised with a fist clenched as you brought it down sharply. He knew the cameras were eating it up.

If his history knowledge was correct, and it usually was, you were the first woman since Lella Lombardi to score points, but were the first one to get on the podium.

You were making history.

And the people were eating it up. Your name was heard above everyone’s. He would meet you in the cool down room.

He was escorted over to the weighing station where he stood for a few moments before going over to the cool down room. He was soon joined by Charles. The two stood like middle-aged dads who were watching their neighbors mow their lawn and silently judging them as they watched the recaps. The main one was your first overtake around the outside.

“Dang she’s quick in that car.”

Max nodded. “Her simulator times were a bit faster than me during testing.”

“I don’t know how then I got around her. Seemed like she was just falling behind the last five laps.”

“My tyres were degrading too quickly and were basically done by the time I crossed the finish line.” You walked into the room, sweat glistening on your forehead where your hair also stuck. Although you hadn’t gotten your second place, third place was still impressive. A smile was probably permanently stuck on your face now.

Max held his arms open for a hug and you dove right in. His hands rubbed up and down your back. Your gaze was now turned to the TV where you watched Lando and Lewis dance for multiple turns before Lewis finally took P4 on the second to last lap.

Charles brought you into a quick hug and kissed your forehead. You wanted to talk some more, but you had been queued to go up to the podiums. You went out first, Charles followed, and then Max. You stood still as the Dutch anthem rung, followed by the Austrian.

And now it was your favorite part. Your grabbed your bottle and shook it, before hauling it up on your shoulder like you always did.

The "champagne cannon" as people liked to call it. You showered the older drivers with the sticky liquid, but was quickly turned against and sprayed as well. You then walked over to the banister and sprayed the team below.

When your bottle was finished you picked up your trophy and made your way down to celebrate with Red Bull.

You quickly found Mitch and gave her a giant hug like you had done once you got out of your car earlier. Christian also gave you a big hug and told you how proud he was of you.

The night for you didn’t last much longer as the adults had said that they were going out to a club to celebrate. You were a bit saddened to hear that you couldn’t come with, being on the podium and all. But, your time would come.

And instead of celebrating, you changed out of your suit and fire proofs and got into comfier clothing. However, you couldn’t stop yawning.

Thinking that Mitch, Christian, or Max would come get you to leave, you lied down on your small bed in your drivers room. An alarm was not set.

Your eyes closed and you fell asleep soon after. Dreams of first place danced behind your eyelids.

You’d get there if it was the last thing you’d do.

skysportsf1 has posted

skysportsf1 we are excited to introduce our main interviewer line up for the 2024 season. David Croft will still lead our main commentary, but we welcome Nico Rosberg, new-comer Arthur Leclerc, and Jensen Button to our team!

liked by formula1_fan, y/n.89, charles_leclerc, y/nxarthur, and 22,830 others

formula1_fan YEESSS so happy to see this trio! maybe we'll actually have good interviews now

y/nxarthur this is just fueling the delulu

leclercbros4life so happy to see Arthur still involved in Formula 1

change_ur_f-car I know right! I would have thought he'd given up charles-marry_ME now he can be near Charles and Y/n all the time y/n-is_my-romanempire I mean, I would have liked it to be Arthur Leclerc "Y/n L/n's Partner" but we'll get there

y/n.89 THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE! WHOO!!!!!!!!!!!

landonorris I think you missed an exclamation mark maxverstappen1 I thought I was your best friend arthur_leclerc sorry mate, but I was here first oscarpiatri he would like to be more tho *this comment was deleted* y/n.nation UH HELLO????

arthur_leclerc thank you for this amazing opportunity!

arthur-4lifers baby boy is BACK

sebastianvettel good to see you here kid! can't wait for the future

f1_fanatic this seems suspicious

RedBullRacing has posted

redbullracing a phenomenal start to the 2024 season with an RB 1-3! See you all in Jeddah!

liked by y/n-on-top, lestappenlove, logansargeant, and 93,822 others

y/n.nation YEAH PODIUM AND POINTS FOR OUR ROOKIE

box_box_offical I totally see her breaking Hamilton's rookie year in points - place your bets here ladies and gents

charles_leclerc glad to share a podium with Max and Y/n, but tell them to watch out next race

y/n.89 yeah, we'll be watching you...in our mirrors as you eat our dust maxverstappen1 what she said

emotional_support_rivals loved the lestappen moment, y/n is their kid at this point

y/n.89 whose last name would I take? maxverstappen1 mine charles_leclerc mine y/n.89 you're both wrong, I'm taking Geri's :) arthur_leclerc hyphenate?

maxiel-lover that start, middle, and finish were just the best

y/n's_version I will have a new Roman Empire every weekend at this point

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 race one of freshman year in the books! first woman since lella to gain some points and first woman to stand on any step on the podium. next stop - the number one spot

liked by martagarcialopez19, liakblock, kellypiquet, and 73,209 others

martagarcialopez19 my hero and role model everyone!

liakblock mine too! y/n.89 gonna cry :(

iamred_iamyellow literally number 1 driver, max get out of the way

redbullracing ROOKIE! ROOKIE! ROOKIE!

y/n.89 ADMIN! ADMIN! ADMIN!

arthur_leclerc favorite girl *liked by y/n.89*

landonorris I'll get you next time

y/n.89 surreeee

hE_tUrned_inTo_mE this was one of the best opening races ever, that double overtake around the outside was amazing

y/n_updates this race is going in the history books

Race Stats:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc +3.583

Y/n L/n +1.264

Lewis Hamilton +2.840

Lando Norris + fastest lap +1.264

Carlos Sainz +1.830

George Russell +2.375

Oscar Piastri +4.284

Alex Albon +3.001

Fernando Alonso +2.904

Logan Sargeant +1.992

Lance Stroll +5.932

Pierre Gasly +6.200

Daniel Ricciardo +1.209

Yuki Tsunoda +2.092

Esteban Ocon +3.871

Zhou Guanyu +6.997

Nico Hulkenberg +8.287

Valtteri Bottas – DNF

Kevin Magnussen – DNF

Driver's Championship Standings:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points

Y/n L/n – 15 points

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points

Lando Norris – 11 points

Carlos Sainz – 8 points

George Russell – 6 points

Oscar Piastri – 4 points

Alex Albon – 2 points

Fernando Alonso – 1 point

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Constructor’s Championship Standings

Red Bull – 40 points

Ferrari – 26 points

Mercedes – 18 points

McLaren – 16 points

Williams – 2 points

Aston Martin – 1 point

Racing Bulls – 0 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

If you want a continuation, read this chapter of Besties for the Resties!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @mellowarcadefun

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bobgasm · 8 months

Text

awards season | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader [admiral!bob] word count: 6129 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], dom/sub elements, praise kink, superior/insubordinate, power play dynamics, panty stuffing, buttplugs, reader gets tied up, lush vibrating egg, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, spanking as a punishment, choking, breeding kink, inaccurate naval knowledge, unprotected p in v sex, strip tease,

summary: in which you and bob have a private arrangement going on, but you can’t resist him at the navy’s awards and promotion ceremonies

author’s note: basically a follow up part of the snappening but is also a standalone. @attapullman don’t kill me for this. happy IBFF month everyone 🥳

oneshot | masterlist

You were dressed to the nines. A gorgeous, expensive dress had been delivered to your apartment, courtesy of Natasha. She’d asked you to be her plus one to the Navy Honour’s ceremony, and who were you to say no? Javy and Bob were going to be there, obviously, but given the nature of your professional relationships to them, you all decided it was best if you went separately.

Tonight was technically your first public outing with Bob. You’d been on a couple of small dates, usually dinner at his place that wound up with you spending the night. But tonight you’d be seeing him outside of the small bubble the two of you had been living in. You wanted to look your best, and make it a night he’d never forget.

And you knew just the way to do that.

Natasha had done your makeup and the two of you had done a few shots while getting ready. She was dressed in her Navy blues, just like you knew Javy and Bob would be.

Your dress was a red backless number and you had tape pretty much covering your chest to provide an easy no-bra look. Natasha had wolf-whistled when she’d seen you and you’d tried to adjust the neckline of the dress so it wasn’t sitting so low. You felt self-conscious.

Now you were arriving, walking arm in arm with Natasha as she spoke to various Captains and Admirals. You were polite, greeting them warmly.

“And who’s your date tonight?” Natasha was asked.

“This is my friend, Y/N,” she explained.

You were sat at a table with Cyclone who continued to eye you throughout the night. Also at the table were a couple WSO’s who were prominent in their field, but you were more concerned with the fact that Bob and Javy sat at the next table over.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Bob told you later in the evening.

He’d slipped into the empty seat beside you while Natasha was in the bathroom and the rest of your table had dispersed to speak with other people in attendance.

“Good,” you said smugly. “I wore it with the intent you’d have more fun removing it.” He chuckled and shot a look over his shoulder. “Where’s Coyote gone?”

“Probably to say the same corny shit to Phoenix.”

You laughed and reached for your glass of wine, taking a sip. “Your place or mine tonight?”

“Yours is closer,” he mused, leaning back in his seat. The length of his thigh pressed up against yours. It was as much physical contact as he was going to show in public, and you understood why. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Just tonight or in general?”

“Tonight,” he clarified. “You look so fucking good.”

You laughed again. “You’ve already said that.”

“I’m a little drunk, whatever,” he dismissed, shifting in his seat.

“How much longer do you want to stay?” You asked him, hooking your ankle behind his leg running the top of your foot up and down his calf.

He reached for your glass of wine and finished it. “I’m good to leave when you are.”

“I’ll just send Natasha a text,” you replied, grabbing your phone from your clutch to send them a text. The chances that she’d already left with Javy were slim, but never zero.

Bob and I are leaving. Recommend going to Javy’s tonight x

You tucked your phone away and gave him a look. “I’ll meet you at my place?”

He nodded and watched you quickly leave. You assumed he ordered himself an Uber, you just weren’t expecting it to be a ride-share and have him slide in the back of the car beside you.

“Same place?” The driver noted.

“Yeah,” Bob agreed, hand resting on your thigh just above your knee. The driver looked back at the two of you in the mirror before pulling into traffic, not saying another word. You were grateful for it.

Bob’s hand slowly inched higher the longer the drive took. You placed your hand on top of his to stop it from going any higher. He was who he was, and the driver kept looking in the rearview mirror. If anything was going to happen, it was once you were in the privacy of your apartment.

That you now shared with Natasha.

The two of you had decided to upgrade from your small, Navy issued apartments a few years ago. It meant you could have Bob and Javy over without any issues popping up, but the building you’d moved to was less Naval Officers and more public friendly. That had been deliberate.

Bob had been over a handful of times, though you usually went to his place. He liked to take his time, make you scream, and though Natasha wouldn’t give you too much shit for it, he didn’t like an audience. You understood perfectly, because you weren’t really a fan of an audience either. So anytime he came over, it was usually for cuddles and sleep.

By the time you got home, Bob was pulling you in for a searing kiss. He was aching to touch you, be near you. You hadn’t even managed to unlock the door before he backed you into it. Hands gripping your waist and his mouth on yours.

“Bob,” you whined, tugging at his hair.

He groaned, reaching for the keys in your hand and making quick work of unlocking the door. You grinned as you pulled him inside. He kicked the door shut and then his hands were on you again. Hiking up the dress, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

You gasped, feeling his erection pressed against your core.

“See what you do to me?” He asked, roughly groping your ass as he carried you into the bedroom. “Drives me so fucking crazy not being able to touch you. Kiss you. Having to watch men flirt with you all night and not be able to make a scene.”

“They’re not you,” you reminded him. “They don’t get to see me the way you do. Who cares if they flirt? You’re the one who has me in his bed nearly every night.”

He hummed as you kissed him, savouring the feeling of his mouth on yours. The taste of liquor that lingered on his lips. The texture of his hair between your fingers.

“Help me out of this dress,” you told him, finding your feet and turning around so he could unzip the dress. Kisses pressed to your bare shoulder, fingers slowly tugging down the zipper. Too slow.

His hands skimmed your sides as the material fell to the floor. You reached up to tug at the corner of a piece of tape. You were relieved to find that it was easy to remove.

“That’s hot,” Bob teased, picking at the tape covering your other breast. “Like I’m unwrapping a present.”

You laughed and balled up the piece of tape in your hand, dropping it onto the bedside table while he continued to remove the rest of the tape. Grinning when he was done, finally able to admire you properly.

“You’re overdressed, Admiral Floyd.” Officially, he wasn’t an Admiral yet, but it was coming.

He groaned at your words, your hands sliding up his chest. Tugging the tie loose from around his neck.

“Fuck you for calling me Admiral Floyd,” he said, taking the tie from your hands and shrugging out of his jacket. “Lie down, hands above your head.”

You did as he said, resting back against the pillows and crossing your wrists above your head. You watched him move. Biting down on his bottom lip as he stepped beside the bed, looping your wrists together with his tie and knotting it to the headboard.

His hair was messy from your hands. Eyes dancing across your body with admiration and lust. He liked how easily you obeyed, that you really were his good girl. His.

Your chest heaved in anticipation, legs pressed tightly together. Seeking any kind of relief.

He hadn’t even seen your surprise yet, a pink jewelled plug seated nicely between the cheeks of your ass. It’d been driving you wild all night. A reminder of the fun you’d be having later.

“Have you been a good girl tonight?” He asked, voice thick with lust. Desire. All for you.

“No, Admiral Floyd,” you replied as innocently as you could manage.

“No?” He taunted. “Tell me, baby.”

“‘m wearing a plug,” you whispered. “Wanted to surprise you.”

He groaned in appreciation, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. “Where’s your toys?”

You whimpered. He hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Bottom drawer,” you confessed. Of course he knew you had toys. You’d sent him a video on Snapchat of you using your dildo on yourself. He crouched down, grabbing the bag of toys from the drawer.

“What other surprises do you have here?”

“Bob,” you pleaded, tugging against your restraints.

He tutted. “That’s not my name, kitten.”

“Admiral Floyd,” you mewled, bringing a smile to his face.

“That’s better, baby,” he praised, opening the drawstring bag to reveal your two dildos – one bright pink, the other flesh coloured – some nipple clamps, a couple of vibrators and a…cock ring? He pulled it out curiously, holding it up for you to see. “Have you used this with anyone?”

“No,” you confessed. “Bought it because I wanted you to wear it. Just didn’t know how to ask.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you. Spread out on the bed, tugging at your restraints and desperately seeking some kind of relief between your legs.

“I should’ve known,” he said, reaching down to cup your cheek. “The second you said you wanted two of my fingers in your cunt and five around your neck.”

You gasped as his fingers trailed down your neck, ever so lightly applying pressure.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering closed. It wasn’t enough, but it was him. The simple act of him lightly gripping your throat turned you on so much more than you thought it would.

“Spread your legs,” he told you softly.

You did as he asked, missing his light touch around your neck. You opened your eyes to watch him settle between your legs, grinning wickedly.

“Naughty girl,” he tsked. “Wearing that plug made you so fucking wet.”

“Wore it for you.”

He pulled the saturated material of your panties to the side, running his finger up the length of your slit and applied pressure to your swollen clit. Stroking it slightly, watching you squirm under his touch.

“Admiral Floyd, please.”

“Fucking hell,” he cursed, taking the time to properly remove your underwear. Stuffing the material in your mouth and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Good girls get to talk. You haven’t been a good girl tonight, have you?”

You shook your head, watching him dip his head to suck your breasts. Nipples taut with desire to be touched, played with. Your moan muffled by the material stuffed in your mouth, back arching towards his mouth. Needing so much more than he was giving you.

“Was gonna take my time with you tonight,” he mumbled, his breath hot against your skin. Suckling bruises into the swell of your chest. “Don’t think you deserve it, hm?”

Your arms strained as you tugged them, begging them to be freed. Needing to touch him. Tell him he could have his way with you, whatever he wanted. You just wanted to be used.

You watched him free his cock from his pants, kneeling between your open legs as he stroked his length. His tip was positioned at your entrance, roughly thrusting inside your sopping heat. Palming your breasts or gripping your hips as he set an unrelenting pace.

God, this was exactly what you needed. His grunts and groans filled the air. Fingers gripping your hips so tightly you knew they’d leave bruises. The sound of wet skin slapping and the tightening in your core only spurring him on.

“Cum with me, kitten,” he goaded. “Fuck, I’m almost there. Need you to milk the cum from my cock. There’s my good girl, fucking hell.”

Your body spasmed as he talked you through your orgasm. Feeling like it was so much more intense than it had ever been before. Your eyes squeezing shut, your moans muffled and legs locked around his waist.

Bob loosened your restraints and you took your panties from your mouth. Throwing them across the room while he started taking your heels off.

“Don’t give me that look,” you whined, watching a smirk form on his face as he dropped the first heel to the ground and started on the next.

“What look?” He asked innocently.

You grabbed a pillow and used it to cover your face, groaning into it. He laughed softly, only removing the pillow once your other shoe was off.

“What look?”

“That ‘you’ve got a kinky secret you’ve been hiding from me’ look,” you replied.

“I mean, you do,” he pointed out. “I won’t push it if you’re not comfortable…”

“I can’t have this conversation with a plug in my ass,” you confessed, only making him laugh. You gasped as he flipped you onto your stomach, hands grabbing your ass. Revealing that pretty plug nestled inside. “Fucking hell.”

He hummed as he toyed with the gem, spanking your ass just because he could.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he praised. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, a moan falling past your lips as he gently tugged the plug. “Relax, baby.”

“This is just turning me on more,” you admitted. “Let me do it.”

“No,” his voice was firm, gently tugging the plug again.

The moan that fell past your lips as the plug breached the tight muscle had you hiding your face in shame. Whimpering at the loss of the intrusion while he slapped your ass again.

“Get that pretty little ass in the shower,” he told you. You wasted no time in heading to the bathroom and starting the shower. You heard the plug clink as he washed it in the sink before stripping and joining you a moment later. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

You grinned as he snaked his arms around your waist, your own draping around his neck.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Admiral Floyd.”

“I’m so glad you’ve never called me that at work,” he confessed. “Would’ve been awkward as fuck trying to hide my boner.”

You laughed and he silenced you with a kiss. Sweet and searing.

“Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner,” you mused.

“I love that it’s happening now, though.”

“So do I.”

The next awards show was the one you’d been hanging out for. The Promotion Ceremony was almost a week after the Navy’s annual awards ceremony. You’d been working your butt off during the week, and spending the evenings with Bob.

It was a comfortable little routine you found yourselves in, but you hadn’t come close to having a conversation about your kinks and boundaries. You were hoping to broach the subject with a new little stint at the next ceremony.

Once again, your dress matched Natasha’s dress for the evening.

You walked inside the building arm in arm with Natasha yet again. You smiled warmly at Natasha’s bosses and politely excused yourself to use the bathroom. Putting your little plan into action.

The pink device slipped easily inside you, and the control was an app on your phone. You checked it to see that it was working, leaving it on a low buzz that tickled you just right. Washing your hands before joining Natasha and trying to find your table.

You were led to the right table, glad to see that it was empty for now. Allowing the two of you to settle and chat amongst yourselves for the time being.

You perked up when Bob and Javy joined you both at the table. They were mingling, as usual, but both dressed nicely in their blues. You let your eyes wander over Bob, whose jaw ticked as he took in your outfit. Eyes lingering on the deep plunge of your neckline.

So that’s how you were playing it tonight, you thought. A smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth as you met his heavenly gaze.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” Natasha teased.

The low hum between your legs was comfortable, and as Javy dragged Natasha away to get some water, you made your move. Slipping into the seat beside Bob and placing your phone on the table, the app open for anyone to see.

“What’s this?”

You leaned in a little closer and lowered your voice. “The controls for the vibrator in my pussy.”

“Oh, kitten.”

You let out a flirty giggle. “Give it a try.”

You demonstrated how to alter the speed, biting down on your inner cheeks as he cranked the speed high. Too high.

“You’re in for a long night,” he warned you.

You gave him a sweet smile as you moved back to your seat, shuffling to get comfortable despite the intense vibrations from the toy. Yeah, it was going to be a long night.

“What’s the passcode?”

“7-4-4-8,” you replied through gritted teeth, watching him lock the phone and tuck it into his pocket. It spelled out shit, which was exactly what you thought at that moment.

He grinned wickedly, resting his arms on the table as he looked at you. “You’ll be rewarded if you don’t cum.”

You nodded, legs crossed beneath the table and hands in your lap. He watched you intently as you shuffled in your seat, breaths coming short and quick. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out if anyone has any clue about what’s going on.

“Y/N,” Bob said softly. “Breathe slowly.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, blowing out a breath. Eyes finding his shining with mischief. You try to slow your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth.

But you’re acutely aware of how good it feels between your legs. The tiniest moan slipped past your lips and he’s quick to turn the device down. Your jaw ticked as you clenched your teeth and glowered in his direction.

He did it for a reason, Javy and Natasha were back. He didn’t want it to be so obvious. He didn’t want you to get caught.

One look at Natasha told you she’d got more than a bottle of water. You busied yourself with fixing her hair while she wore a guilty look and finished reapplying her lipstick.

Bob gave Javy shit, but it was all in good humour. Considering the control he had over you tucked in his pocket…you bit your tongue. Not wanting to say anything to incriminate the two of you when Natasha and Javy had clearly just fucked in a bathroom somewhere.

“Thanks,” she mumbled to you.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you sat back in your seat, trying not to fidget or shuffle too much. Every time you moved you felt the device hit your g-spot and you almost gave yourself away.

“You okay?”

You hummed again. “Yeah, when’s this thing supposed to start?”

“Soon,” Bob answered coolly. Bastard. He was having too much fun with his hand in his pocket and thumb moving the speed of the device inside you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you snipped. Both Natasha and Javy cast a look between the both of you before sharing a look of their own. “Stop asking me if I’m okay.”

“You seem tense,” Natasha commented. “I know a good bathroom to get your back blown out in…”

Javy nudged her with a playful look in his eyes. You were glad you were seated so far away from Bob right now, you knew you’d cross a line if he was within touching distance.

“That’s not her problem,” Bob replied.

Natasha eyed you a little more carefully, her hand covering their mouth as she started giggling. God fucking damn it.

“Shut up,” you hissed.

“I haven’t said anything,” she replied, still laughing her ass off.

You slapped her arm, but the movement made the device brush your g-spot and you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop you from moaning.

Bob turned the device up ever so slightly. You glared at him, arms folded over your chest as you sank down in your seat. Trying to block out the tightness in your core and focus on your breathing again.

“What the fuck is happening?” Javy whispered to Natasha.

“I’ll tell you later,” she replied, rubbing her arm from where you slapped her. “I kinda wanna see how this plays out.”

“I’ll slap you again,” you threatened Natasha. She simply gave you a shit-eating grin in response.

It was going to be a long night.

Throughout the opening ceremony, Bob turned the vibrations down to a more bearable setting. You appreciated it, but didn’t let on that you were happy or annoyed. You focused on the host, while keeping an eye on Bob in your peripheral, whose gaze never once waived from you.

You enjoyed your drink and spoke with Natasha. As the ceremony progressed, you’d look at Bob occasionally, and only then would the setting get turned up slightly.

Your seating configuration changed so you were sitting beside Bob near the halfway point of the evening. At least, you thought it was about halfway through. They hadn’t quite finished all the mumbo jumbo from the retiring staff yet.

You drank to try and calm down as the vibrations were gradually increased to a point where you were constantly being edged. Brought closer to your orgasm, but then Bob would turn it back down. Resting a hand on your knee for a brief moment, a silent reminder of what he said earlier.

It only made you antsier. You shuffled your chair a little closer until his leg was pressed against the length of yours. You needed his touch, his comfort. Whatever kind that you could get, given your current surroundings.

When they announced the newest Admirals, Javy and Bob rose to their feet. But not before Bob set the device at an uncomfortably high speed.

“Breathe,” you reminded yourself, though it was a struggle.

Damn Bob. Damn you for having this idea in the first place.

They made short speeches as they accepted their medals that now adorned their breastplates and you shifted in your seat. Trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t have the egg pressing nauseatingly against your g-spot.

When the men rejoined the table, Bob’s hand lingered on your thigh. Your breathing quickened, heart racing as you squeezed your legs together and gripped his hand tightly.

“You’re okay,” he told you softly, turning his hand over to properly hold yours.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, swallowing hard.

“Good girl.”

You squeezed his hand as a warning, your other hand pressed to your chest. You barely paid any attention as Natasha took to the stage. She was accepting her second star on her Admiral badge.

Your attention was pulled back to Bob as he turned the setting up again. You squeezed his hand tight, your breath catching in your throat. Bottom lip taken harshly between your teeth.

He cleared his throat, making you look at him. Your eyes watered as you met his steely gaze.

“Not yet,” he told you.

“Please,” you whimpered softly. “Please.”

“I’ll take you home soon,” he replied. “Just a bit longer.”

“Turn it down,” you pleaded quietly. “I’m going to cry. It’s too much. Please, sir.”

He took you in. Your flushed, heaving chest. Your watering hooded eyes. Your swollen bottom lip. He shifted uncomfortably, unlocking your phone and turning the device down to a more bearable setting.

He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “You’re getting punished for that.”

“Thank you, sir. I deserve it.”

He surprised you by kissing your cheek. You gave him a smile and rested your hand on his thigh, his wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

You enjoyed the comfort as another couple of promotions were announced, and relaxed into him.

When it came time for you to leave, Bob happily took your hand in his.

Bob stood beside you as you watched Javy and Natasha both disappear down the street, shivering in the brisk air. He shrugged his jacket off and draped it around you without you needing to ask, smiling at you as you thanked him.

“You did good tonight,” he told you.

“You mean the vibrator?”

He chuckled, sliding an arm around your back and pulling you a little closer. “I do.”

He helped you into the car, lacing his hand with yours. You sat in silence on the ride back to his place, his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand. His other thumb altered the speed of the vibrator still inside you. Watching your reactions throughout the drive, and kissing you whenever he turned it up so you didn’t moan.

You were delirious when you arrived at his place. Feeling like you were floating on another planet as he led you up the steps and through the threshold.

“How many times did you almost come?” He asked you. You stood in front of him, feeling small under his gaze.

“Five times,” you told him truthfully.

He reached out to cup your face, lightly gripping your jane between his thumb and the length of his forefinger. “Five spanks on each cheek should be punishment enough, hm?”

Your cunt tightened in excitement. “Yes, sir.”

“Wait for me in the bedroom,” he instructed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and smiling sweetly at you.

You did as he asked, walking down to the master bedroom and hanging his suit jacket up in his closet before standing at the end of the bed, waiting anxiously. You felt the vibrations in the device get dialled up, squeezing your thighs together as you tried not to enjoy it too much. Your eyebrows pulled together, bottom lip taken harshly between your teeth. Hissing at the pain that shot through your swollen and bruised lip, a reminder of how many times you’d bitten it through the night.

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard the bedroom door click shut.

“Strip for me, baby,” Bob said, taking a seat on the end of the bed. “Keep the heels on.”

You had no music playing, but you pretended there was. A song played in your head as you moved your body under his watchful gaze. His eyes raking over you, taking in every sway of your hips, the way your hands caressed your chest and stomach. Flipping your hair over your shoulder as you turned your back to him and reached for the zipper on your dress.

The material fell to the floor but you kept dancing. The way you moved was hypnotising and you felt Bob’s burning gaze. The air electric between you as your hair covered your chest and you sat yourself down in his lap. Running your hands up his chest and toying with his tie, loosening it and undoing a couple of the buttons. Only moving away when he hand caressed your lower back.

“Touching costs extra, Admiral Floyd,” you chastised playfully, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you twirled around.

Putting on a show as you bent over and slowly removed your underwear. The material soaked with your arousal.

He chuckled lowly as you threw them at him, watching his fingers rub over the wet spot and his eyes darken as you sank to your knees. Stroking his thighs, lightly skimming over his crotch and hearing him hiss at the contact.

Eyes lock on his as you pressed a feathersoft kiss to his clothed cock. His nostrils flaring at the small gesture, jaw ticking.

“Lie across my lap, kitten,” he told you, voice leaving no room for argument. Not that you would, anyway. You were enjoying this too much. This shift in dynamic, the power you’d given him. The trust you had in him not to take it any further than you were comfortable with.

You folded yourself over his lap, glad you had the bed to rest on, too.

His hand rested on the back of your thigh, fingers toying with the pink rubber from the vibrator still inside you. He tugged it lightly, making your moan.

“You want me to take it out, or leave it in?”

“Out please, sir,” you replied meekly. He turned the device off before you felt a stronger tug. Willing your body to relax enough to let the device slip out, and whimpering at the loss as it breached the muscle. “I’ll take my punishment now, sir.”

“Five strikes on each cheek,” he reminded you. You didn’t know what he did with the toy, but his hand softly squeezed your left cheek. Playful, almost. “Count them.”

The first slap came as a surprise. Not too hard, but not too soft. Just enough to give you a taste, knowing he was likely to strike harder.

“One,” you counted as his hand caressed the tender skin. His hand came down harder this time, and you whimpered as he caressed the skin once again. “Two.”

Each strike got a little bit harder, and you grew a little bit wetter. Whimpering as his fingernails dragged over the sensitive skin, likely leaving a temporary mark in their wake.

You counted, “five,” and then came the assault to your other cheek. He started harder, but still took the time to smooth his hand over the freshly struck area. Caressing and squeezing.

“One,” you counted, hands fisting the bedding beneath you. Thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to stave off your orgasm. His hand came down hard once again, causing you to whimper under his touch. “Two.”

“Three more,” he told you, reaching out to brush some hair behind your ear. “Keep counting.”

You gasped as his hand stung your ass once more. “Three,” you said, eyes squeezed shut. You counted out the last two painfully, tears stinging your eyes. Not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure.

He pulled you into his lap, cradling you into his chest. Brushing your hair back from your face and swiping at a tear that escaped before it ran down your cheek.

“Was that too much?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“No,” you assured him. “It was good, I just need to come. Please, Admiral Floyd. Please let me come.”

He hummed, cupping your cheek and drawing you in for a kiss.

His mouth was dominating. Tongue working its way into your mouth, a firm hand on your hip, the other cupping the base of your skull. Fingers wound into your hair and tipping your head back, exposing your neck to him. His hot mouth latching onto your soft skin, sucking, pecking, biting.

You released a shaky breath as he nipped at your collarbones, hand gripping the back of his neck, the other tugging his tie.

You gasped as his hand skimmed up your side, cupping your breast. Thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple before pinching it roughly and dipping his head to take the other one in his mouth. Teeth grazing the swollen nub, tongue soothing, fingers teasing.

He moved you so you were lying on your back, completely at his mercy. His mouth and hands continued to pinch and nip at your chest, your back arching into his touch. Legs spread wide, accommodating his body. Hands wound in his short hair and tugging as he sucked a bruise into the top of your breast.

Your hips arch off the bed, desperate for some friction between your legs. His teeth grazed your nipple as he chuckled, biting down enough to make you hiss.

“So needy,” he taunted, rolling his tongue over the hardened bud. “Use your words, babygirl.”

“Need your mouth, Admiral Floyd,” you pleaded. “Your tongue, your fingers. Anything. Please make me come.”

His hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs as he kisses your navel and pushes you further up the bed. Ankles resting over his shoulders, the heel of your stilettos no doubt digging into his back, but if it bothers him he doesn’t let on. Eyes level with your pretty, glistening cunt.

He used his thumbs to spread you open, groaning as your hands comb through his hair.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he compliments, laying his tongue flat against your cunt and tasting your arousal. Humming in appreciation as you gasp and shudder, nose pressed snug against your clit.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, splaying his hands out over your chest and stomach. One hand applying pressure to your abdomen, the other playing with your breasts.

When your thighs clamped around his head, he knew you were a goner. Tongue licking, mouth sucking, nose firm. The perfect combination, and his favourite way to make you come undone.

He groaned in appreciation as your hips bucked against his face, riding out your orgasm. Your juices coating his tongue and dribbling down his chin.

You saw stars as he pressed two fingers inside your sopping cunt, curling them back towards himself as he sucked on your clit. Teeth grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves, hips rolling against his mouth.

Then he sucks. Hard. And you almost pass out, gasping and bucking your hips wildly. Fingers brushing against your g-spot, working together with his mouth to make you cum again.

Your head lolled to the side, body satiated and pliant. Eyes frantically trying to blink away the spots from your vision until Bob’s face was all you could focus on. His hand cupping your cheek, eyes full of worry.

Chin glistening.

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” you confessed breathily, eyes coming back into focus.

“Think you can cum again for me?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you confirmed, pulling off his tie with a grin.

He chuckled as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and quickly removed his trousers. Cock springing free and slapping his stomach, the tip angry and red and glistening with precum.

He groaned as you reached for his cock, stroking his length. His hand replaced yours and you gasped as he slapped his cock against your clit. Grinning wickedly as he ran the tip of his cock up your slit and pushed just the tip inside your cunt.

“Admiral Floyd,” you pleaded. “Please. I need your cock, sir. Need you to fill me with your cum.”

Bob groaned deeply as he folded himself on top of you, hips rocking into you. Refusing to give you more than just the tip.

“Such a filthy little slut, hm?” He asked, fingers closing around your throat. Squeezing your pressure point. Your mouth falling open at the sudden act.

“Yes, sir,” you agreed, swallowing thickly. “Only a slut for you.”

He hummed, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re mine.”

You whimpered, fingernails digging into the fresh over his shoulder blades. Your brain covered in fog, too overwhelmed by him.

“Say it,” he growled. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Admiral Floyd. Your filthy little slut.”

You gripped his wrist as he thrust inside you, bottoming out. Your eyes rolling back in your head, his name falling past your lips in a delirious chant.

“Mine,” he repeated, sealing his mouth over yours as his thrusts made you moan. So fucking close. So fucking good.

You groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, gripping the back of his neck as he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes locked on his, noses nudging together as his thrusts grew faster. Harder. More unrelenting.

Taking and taking and taking until you were coming undone around him. Beneath him. Consumed by all things Bob.

“Bob,” you whined, legs wrapping around his waist as he came. Grunting and bottoming out as his cock twitched and spilled inside you.

He looked so fucking pretty when he came. Eyes screwed shut, body shuddering. A thin sheen of sweat making his skin glisten in the low light. Lips parted as he cursed and panted your name.

He collapsed beside you, stroking your hair with a blissful look on his face. Holding you close, your lips pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his lips.

“That was…holy fuck,” he said with a breathy chuckle.

You hummed, smiling as he nudged your nose with his. “You’re so good to me, Admiral Floyd.”

He groaned lowly, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re good to me, kitten. So fucking good.”

He kissed you slowly, sweetly. A stark contrast to the frenzied kisses you’d shared previously. Taking his time to make you feel comfortable, cherished. So fucking loved.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fanfic #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x you #international bob floyd fucks month

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sukunas-wife · 2 months

Note

sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!

GOOD GOD THIS IS THE REAL REASON HE HATES YUJI AND HAD TO TAKE MEGUMI HOSTAGE

I tried, 🤍 I don’t where my brain went but it was everywhere 🙂‍↕️

You loved Yuji, and it hurt him, he was infuriated

All those times you spent together, had you only ever saw him as friend and nothing more? Even when he bullied and teased you, he made sure to never dig into you as crudely as he would others.

He proved in many ways he was superior to counter part, he remembers your giggles and bashful smiles when he’d prove himself superior and you’d compliment him.

We’re your words lies??? He scoffed, and turned to you beside him, you had just confessed to him you had a crush on Yuji, and it as much as he tried to hide it, the sour taste on his mouth and the bitter expression on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was upset with you, you expected him to be, because it was his brother, it would ruin you’re entire friendship. But that wasn’t the true reason he had become so upset.

He wanted to snap you that Yuji wasn’t even straight, that he knew his brother was interested in that Fushiguro brat. He wanted to make you understand why you had chosen incorrectly, why you’re little idea was foolish. So he tried to explain in a way without outing his closeted brother.

Of course you became upset thinking he just didn’t want you and Yuji together. You yelled at him and watched how he clenched his jaw, his eye twitched before he sighed and physically deflated. He leaned forward, testing his forearms on his thighs and dropped his head. You almost felt bad seeing how he reacted, but he stood up, not giving you time to put your hand on his shoulder, he didn’t face you, he didn’t even glance in your direction when he told you, “Y/n, I’m not going to stop you from doing whatever the hell you want. But as Yuji’s brother, I know damn well this isn’t going to work the way you think it is. If you’re so fucking set on going and pouring your heart out to him, you do that. I’ll be right here when you realize it’s not what you thought it was.”

He left you on his bed in his room and he went out to smoke on the back patio. There he found Choso, their step brother. Sukuna wasn’t as close to Choso as Yuji was, but in that day the silence between the two as they sat there in the others presence was enough to sway their opinion on the other, “Maybe he’s not as big of an ass.” “Maybe that sleep deprived brat ain’t to bad.”

—- —- —- —- —- •*•*•*•*•*• —- —- —- —- —-

THEN YUJI REJECTED YOU in his oh so bashful manner saying he liked Megumi..

It was later that week after mulling over your thoughts, over Sukuna’s words, what did he mean when he said he’d still be there. Of course you didn’t put much thought into the finer details as you made your way to Itadori’s house hold. You found Yuji sitting on the front porch basking in the sun with a smile on his face. It was the fall season and you know how much he loved going on walks and stepping on the “Crunchy” leaves. He opened his eyes hearing your steps, if anything he knew everyone by their walk. He smiled waving a hand, “Hey! Didn’t think I’d see you this week, you haven’t called or messaged so I thought you were busy with your college classes.” You smiled at him shrugging “It’s just been a busy week I guess, a lot to think about but it feel like I can’t even think straight about what I need to focus on.”

He hummed “Yeah, me too…” you both fell into after he offered you the spot next to him. Sitting out under the afternoon sun, the soft breeze and sounds of leaves scraping over the street and side walk. Your face felt warm as you found the courage to finally say what had been on your chest. “Yuji, I need to tell you something.” He was staring off with a smile at the sky, he turned to you with that same smile, eye brows furrowed a bit in curiosity, “It’s gonna sound weird since we’ve known each other for so long but I think I really like you.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened and his face paled.

He was scared shitless, and fumbled over his words before he sighed looking down. He leaned back on his palms staring up at the sky with a neutral expression. “Y/n…” he couldn’t look at you, you felt sick at the tone of his voice. He knew Sukuna adored you, he wasn’t blind, weather Sukuna could admit it or not no one would know him better than Yuji, no one wouldn’t be able to notice the slightest change in his personality if not his brother, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t like…” he hesitated, “I don’t see us…” he sighed thinking it over, “I don’t see you in that light, and it’s not you exactly it just…” he huffed, he didn’t know how to tell you, he wasn’t interested in you without making it seem like it was because of you, he didn’t know how to tell you he had fallen in love with his best friend, and he went through his own breakdowns and trauma, he remembered how he cried and pulled at his hair, in frustration and confusion. How Sukuna had to forcefully hold him down in a strange embrace to keep him from pulling his hair, he remembers laying in bad crying into Sukuna until Choso came home and tried to offer consolation and a level head to help him think and process everything.

The three spent their night on Yuji’s bed in a comforting silence. It was interesting watching Yuji laid on his stomach watching tv at the foot of his bed, Sukuna who was scrolling aimlessly on his phone with his feet propped up on Yuji’s back, and Choso who was sat against the headboard occasionally watching the movie while being one of the three to actually go their college work ahead of time.

“I’m gay Y/n… and I well, I already have plans with someone else…” you felt sick and stupid. Your weren’t sick because of your best friend gay, you were sick from your embarrassment. Yuji didn’t catch on having not looked away form the setting son. But you felt nauseous, you felt the embarrassment in your bones. Rejection hurt you nonetheless even though it was based on pure honesty. You couldn’t hate him or his answer, but you could fight the sentiment building up inside as you felt heat on your face. With a shaky breath and voice you answered him, “Thank you for letting me know, Yuu.” He turned to look at you concerned, he saw the tears in your eyes, “…y/n.” You smiled through your tears, “Don’t worry about it, I just hope your happy.” He wanted to comfort you but you stood up quickly, “I’ll see you around, I’m gonna go for a walk.” You waved him off quickly making your way out of sight. Staring at the sun set you ducked your head and let yourself cry until you found yourself at a park bench where you sat down letting your head fall back. Tears still flooding your eyes, you closed them shutting the evening sky out of sight. You tried to repress every sound, your ears and nose stuffy, your phone ringing with messages, probably your parents or siblings asking when you’d get home. You couldn’t stand to answer, rubbing your balled fists aggressively over your eyes trying to force the tears away. It didn’t work because it felt like they were rushing out faster. No one was there to dry your tears, your heart screamed out for just someone to come and hold you, your heart held out for a fantasy for a dream of Mr.Perfect coming and sweeping you off that bench into a hug and comforting you while you cried into the stary sky. But Mr.Perfect was a dream, and the stary night was a illusion as your hands were pulled away so you could see the full moon rising and over casting the stars to disappear. Face hot and red puffy eyes, you hated it, you hated the moon, you hated that you knew who was holding your wrists hostage, “Shitty brat, you have people losing their shit wondering where the hell you are. Is it that hard to answer your phone.” You leaned your head further back, your teary eyes and distraught face didn’t faze Sukuna as he sighed walking around the bench and sitting next to you. In the same manner he had held Yuji down he did to you when you quickly started to wipe your tears away.

“Stop it dumbass you’re gonna make it worse with how hard your rubbing your skin.” It was a quick movement he pulled you at an angle so your back was to his left side side, his left arm thrown over the back of the bench and your shoulder, his single hand held both your wrists hostage. Hi sighed and you only sniffled quietly, at least he’d given you the decency to not be seen when you cried. “You’re family called ask if we knew where you were…” you sniffled not answering, “Yuji told Cho and I everything…” silence fell over both of you. Your little movements from sniffling kept Sukuna from losing his train of thought. He lets your hands fall from his grip as he moved his hand to hold a loose choke hold over your shoulders and pull you closer against his side. He was nonchalant when he sighed, “I said it wouldn’t work out y/n, now look at us, you’re crying and I’m here holding you hostage from your own hands, way to spend a Friday night huh?” You hands sound it in you to say anything yet, your hands coming up to hold onto the loose black sleeve that covered his arm, finally your let your head fall left against his shoulder, “Did you know Yuji was gay?” “Yeah, he’s my brother, kinda knew before he knew.” You let out a single laugh, “Guess that’s why you said all that stuff then.. huh?” The silence was inevitable, Sukuna wasn’t a man of words, but the way he squeezed your shoulders was enough to comfort you.

Sure enough, it took a month, before you found yourself foolishly falling for Sukuna and his rough edges, snide comments and crude behavior. But what you loved more were the nights he’d sneak into your room when he knew a thunderstorm would come at night. And you’d sleep with the curtain open tucked into his side to watch the storm pass. Staying at the Itadori house all day to be with him and his brothers. Meeting Megumi who seemed very out of place when he first arrived, he was so docile and reserved it was humoring to think he and Yuji would be a pair. Then again anyone would say the same about yourself and Sukuna. But what really shocked everyone was when Choso brought home a friend, and announced his friend as his girlfriend, Yuki was her name.

(Alternate ending: the way Yuji made you cry? of course it fueled Sukuna’s anger. Why? because Yuji had made you cry and broke your little heart, (he’s bi he just doesnt like you and is a bit blunt with it so it comes off rude) so Sukuna decided, he’d have to make sure if he wasn’t happy no one could be happy, he convinced Megumi that Yuji actually hated him and was just being nice to him because he felt bad “A gay little twink boy” like Megumi was always alone and had no one to talk to or hang out with. Which in retaliation make Megumi shut out and cut off Yuji with no hesitation and Yuji is confused and sad, because the day he was going to confess to Megumi, he was left alone waiting all day in a cafe thinking “Megumi would never not show up without texting me?”

SurpISE on his way home Yuji see’s Megumi crying and walking solemnly in the night misty rain, he was going to approach him until he see’s someone else approaching Megumi and pulling him into a hug. He watched as Megumi slumped against this person and just stood, his forehead pressed to the teller person chest. Yuji was wide eyed when he saw the teller person left their chin from megumi’s head and using their finger tips to angle Megumi’s face up. He felt sick, that wave of nausea, embarrassment, the ache in your body that makes you wanna puke and leaves you weak, it hit him hard when he saw the taller person lean down, he saw clearly how Megumi’s tear stained lashes fluttered slowly when the other person moved in closer and kissed him. Yuji did in fact puke, but he swallowed it down. It wasn’t til the two pulled apart and started to walk together under the street lights he realized who the other guy was. He was Noritoshi Kamo, a relative of Choso’s through choso’s father’s side. Someone of a respectable and well known family who would fit Megumi far better than Yuji would’ve… he stood there in the rain looking down at the side as he slowly made his way home.

By the time he got home he was soaked, he wasn’t hungry, he just wanted to sleep. He thought about you, it weighed on him if this was how you felt? He wanted to apologize to you and maybe even consider take you out on a date instead. But he didn’t get that chance, he walked into Sukuna’s room to try and get tonight off his chest, out of his head. Instead he found you curled up in his brother, you were wearing a tank top arms wrapped around Sukuna’s torso, using his shoulder as a pillow as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You were wearing Sukuna’s sweats pants and had your leg thrown over his waist snoring away. Sukuna’s eyes were closed, his free hand tucked behind his head. It was obvious he wasn’t asleep when he opened his eyes and saw his brother in his door. “What’s wrong brat?” Yuji simply shook his head, “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He passed Choso in the hallway who immediately stoped him concerned. Yuji cried to Choso unable to get the words out, Choso held him tight comforting his brother all night letting him know everything would be alright in time.

Tags: @mammons-wife @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille @lexiene @domainofmarie @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing

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natriae · 3 months

Note

Best friend omi and reader where it’s like mutual pining but one day omi just loses it and kisses reader and they make out filthily✨??

So i may be back from my mini (mega) hiatus... :0

I miss my omi-omi <3

CW// she/her pronouns used, reader is described as having hair (but no details on the hair itself), 14+ , reader is described as introverted (i'm projecting), please let me know if i missed any!

1.8k words

To say the majority of MSBY was shocked to see a woman bring Sakusa Kiyoomi a hearty meal and scold him about not taking care of himself would be an understatement. Meian genuinely thought he woke up in another timeline, and it definitely didn't help that Atsumu had barely reacted.

With the season just beginning many of the MSBY had not had time to meet their new teammates. Yes, they knew who they were, and yes, they had made light conversation with them at VBA events, but they didn't really know much about the new members. Barnes honestly had assumed Sakusa was celibate, or completely shut down anything that included sharing germs, yet here their new opposite hitter is letting this girl, no woman, sit him down and grab his leg to put in her lap. The man barely reacts. He just let her examine his ankle before listening closely for her next words.

‘There's no way she’s his girlfriend’ Tomas thinks, but the way Sakusa watches her makes him question everything. Didn't Bokuto comment on Sakusa never being able to pull. There's no way Sakusa could pull her, especially with his attitude.

"Hey, Miya-san," Meian calls over. Atsumu stops practicing sets against the wall to jog over to his new captain.

"’es, Captain," Miya quickly bows to his superior. Even out of college the older twin still has his boyish charm.

"Just Meian-san is fine," Meian quickly responds, watching Atsumu's face light up (oh will Meian regret that later). "Who's the girl with Sakusa?" he nods his head towards the two of you. Now you're fixing Sakusa's hair while he drinks his water.

"whatta' ya mean?" Atsumu asks, face scrunching in confusion. Sure, he has a few theories on what Meian is implying, but he wants to hear it outloud so he knows he's not delusional.

"Is that Sakusa-san's girlfriend?" Tomas interjects. The three men watch as the two of you converse with light blush on your cheeks.

"Y/N?" the finally toned-blonde laughs at the thought, "Sakusa couldn't pull her even if he had a fishing rod," the twin continues, "the two of them have known each other for years. I always thought Sakusa had a thing for her, but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere".

While Atsumu yaps, Meian can't help, but watch his new teammate in awe. Compared to the others, Sakusa was more introverted. As a captain he wants to know his teammates - friends - inside and out. Be able to build a bond with them that will last, yet Sakusa has proven to be the hardest of all. You make it seem so easy. The curly haired man will beg at feet if he must. How did you dig your way into him?

"Kiy," you poke your head through the locker room door, "it's getting late you almost done?" Behind the wall you hear the shower turn off and the soft wet steps of Kiyoomi. He's always been a gentle giant. On the outside he seems intimidating, but honestly he’s just trying to protect himself. "Can I come in, yet?" you smile waiting for his response.

Ever since Kiyoomi joined the big leagues you can't help but bask in the joy with him. He's wanted this forever, and you're so happy you were able to watch him succeed. Kiyoomi's family was proud of him, yes, but not in the way you were. They didn't see all the highs and lows. They didn't notice the small changes in his mood, or how he would continually work himself to exhaustion. They always saw him at his best, but their Kiyoomi was not your Kiyoomi. Actually most people's Kiyoomi isn't your Kiyoomi. You know him better than most. You know how he struggled in highschool socially, and how he struggled again moving out. How he wasn't used to someone not commenting on his every move. So imagine his surprise when you didn't fill that spot in college. You always made him feel valid in his thoughts.

"I'm dressed," his voice responds. For most people they would be shocked to know that Sakusa now bathes after everyone else. It wasn't a germ thing. It simply just made more sense to shower before the chaos. Also, who wants to share germs with a teenage boy anyway. He changed his habit so it allowed some time to decompress before driving home, plus it allowed more time to spend with you before he drove you back to your apartment.

Walking in you round the corner to see the rows of lockers. It wasn't long before you spotted him. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he began rubbing the moisturizer on his face. This was always your favorite time. Watching Sakusa perform his night routine always motivated you to do more. He's always been so disciplined.

"So how was that party with your friends," his voice cuts through your thoughts. Looking up you notice how his eyes remained on you through the mirror.

"it...it was okay," you responded, rolling your lips in between your teeth. It was much easier to direct your thoughts to caring about him than your own social life.

"it wasn't. Tell me," he says. The demand in his voice was one you still haven't mastered not being affected by. Something about talking to him was so easy, allowing the words to flow out like his words were a truth potion.

"There were some new girls there I haven't met before, and we were telling stories to get to know one another, and um," Kiyoomi's eyes never leave your face through the mirror, "the topic of our first kisses came up, and when it got to my turn-"

"you froze," He finished for you.

"Yeah," you say looking down. You watch as his feet turn and begin walking to your position on the bench.

"So what did you end up telling them?" By the way he softly looks at you, you're sure he completely trusts you. He knows you would have told him if something had changed. You’re sure he already knows your answer before you tell him.

"the truth," you respond solemnly. He doesn't need you to say it to know how embarrassed you are. “Having a horrible first kiss is one thing, but being 23 and never having kissed anyone is a completely different situation.”

The way Sakusa turns back around to pack up his stuff isn't one of rejection, but in a way that tells you he'd rather finish this conversation when you have his full attention. "You know, at least you've never kissed anyone you would later regret," he shrugs, zipping up his duffle.

"look at you being on the bright side," you state, partly in shock, and partly in the hopes that the two of you can change the conversation. A smile breaks out on your face just from speaking to him. With his bag now on his shoulder he watches you, silently telling you to get up.

"hey, you’re more likely now to have a memorable kiss than before,"

"Sure, but everyone is way more experienced than me," you sulk trailing behind him out of the stadium.

"not everyone," He quietly says, just enough for you not to hear.

The walk to the car was silent for the most part. The only noise heard were the late night crickets chirping and the occasional sound of a car passing on the main road. No matter how many times Kiyoomi explained it to you, it never made sense why he always parked at the very back of the parking lot. Which is quite far considering this is an official stadium. His long strides were no match for you, so while attempting to catch up you continued speaking hoping to remind him of your presence. “It’s just I’ve always received compliments from girls, which honestly is still pretty limited, but the best compliment a guy told me was, get this, ‘you’re not pretty now, but you’ll be prettier when you're older’. Well guess what I’m older and still nobody wants me,” you sigh.

While you yap the car the lights blink once, and a small beep is heard. His trunk pops open and surprisingly he carelessly throws his bag in slamming it shut. It all happens before you have time to comprehend it. His long, lean body swiftly turns around and presses you to the side of his car. His forehead resting on yours while his hands grip your arms tightly. “You don’t get it do you?” he whispers before leaning in.

His lips press on to yours with inexperience. Your eyes widened as he continued to chase your plump lips. You may have found the one thing Sakusa Kiyoomi is not skilled at, yet his passion is at an all time high. You want to laugh. There is so little time to wonder if it’s nervous laughter or if you genuinely find this funny. He’s clumsy and you swear his body begins to shake with nervousness, but he’s trying. It’s more than just a kiss. Your heart connects with his. You’ve never felt this type of euphoria before. Nervous, definitely nervous laughter. His hands begin to loosen as he draws back from you. The sparks connecting the two of you begin to break. It hurts in a greedy way. You want nothing more than to just grab his collar and slam him back into you, but he’s your Kiyoomi and he knows exactly what you want without you having to ask. There’s only one way to describe the way Kiyoomi kisses. It’s messy and unskilled. Two words that he would never want to associate with. The second kiss is wet and the sounds are vulgar. His hand moves from your arm and wraps lightly around your hair as he presses into your head. He wants more. The greed has consumed you both and simply kissing is not enough. Finally gaining control of your arms you slowly run your arms up his chest feeling the soft cloth of his t-shirt, but like always he’s faster than you. Both of his hands grip your wrists to push them up to his shoulders as if begging for you to latch onto him. Everything about this moment is rushed. Even though your introverted brains are yelling at you, the chance of anyone seeing you two is all too exciting. Your tongue shy pokes out first. A small lick on Kiyoomi’s bottom lip to know if he wants it too, and just as everything else Kiyoomi’s tongue is licking into your mouth before you have time to process it. Your tongues dance through kisses just as the wind does the same between both of your bodies. Pressed so close to one another that you can feel his rapid heartbeat, but all good things will eventually come to an end and the black haired male draws back first.

“I meant something like that,” he whispers, still holding you tight to his body.

A/N: I really hope y'all got my new girl reference. Also, FUN FACT I actually did receive that 'compliment' from a guy once (the only time a guy complimented me). Anyway, I really have not been in a good head space so I'm sorry for just kind disappearing, but writing does give me joy so i'm going to try and answer my asks.

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mmhcs · 2 months

Text

Not Tonight

Warnings: Slightly suggestive opening, implications and mentions of trauma and traumatic events, implications of flashbacks, descriptions that may be uncomfortable, reader needs a hug (and therapy)

Finally.

You sigh, hooking your arms around Miguel’s neck.

Finally, it’s happening.

After a week of barely seeing each other, you and Miguel finally have a night to yourselves.

Originally, you had planned to spend your Friday evening alone on the couch, catching up on the new season of that TV show you religiously kept up with.

Miguel didn’t watch it (he only loosely followed along during those times that you two had watched it together) but you still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the fact that tonight you would follow the show's plot from beginning to end without distraction, less-than-stellar remarks, or need for explanation every two seconds.

Well, at least I get to watch, you had told yourself as you settled onto the couch.

It wasn’t a perfect evening, but it would be a fun one. You only hoped that Miguel, probably still in his office, wasn’t overworking himself. Hopefully Lyla was there to bring some playfulness into the otherwise sterile environment that he would submerge himself well into next morning.

If only he was here.

You relaxed into the couch, bringing your blanket up as the theme song to your show began playing. Within a few seconds were immersed, but clearly not fully so as you jumped when you heard your front door open and the sound of keys jangling.

“Miguel?” you called, both excited and in disbelief.

Nobody else had a key to your apartment but you still had to see him to believe that it was true.

“¡Cariño!” Miguel replied, coming into view.

Before you had the chance, he, in two wide strides, walked over to the couch and scooped you into a hug.

“What are you—”

“I took the night off; I missed you.”

“Took the night off” was a generous term. Miguel had no boss; he was his own superior. His “staying late at the office” was because Miguel felt it necessary, that if he didn’t then something would happen and the “Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse” (as he called it) would collapse.

Since the two of you started dating, Miguel had gotten better at taking breaks. But you knew that you alone couldn’t bring him to ultimate healing—just like he couldn’t do the same for you.

But the two of you tried. Tried to work through you issues, not only for the other but for your respective selves. Which is why hearing Miguel say that he took the night off because he missed you made your stomach flutter with butterflies and an ache start to pool in its center.

Needless to say, you and Miguel didn’t make it past the ending of the theme song.

And that’s how you two ended up here: on your shared bed, you in Miguel’s lap and his mouth dragging itself against your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your neck, eliciting a sharp moan from you. Your hands flew from his neck to his hair, pulling at it as if it were a life raft, your only way to keep yourself from falling back onto the bed.

Not yet.

“Yes, Miguel,” Your breath hitches as he begins to suck on your neck, concentrating on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like that,”

He gives a moan of response, his mouth still on your neck.

Almost unconsciously, your head tilts itself to the side in order to give him more room to work.

“Like that,” you cry out once more. “Likethatlikethatlikethatlike—”

I don’t like that.

You look down, feeling newfound warmth at your side—Miguel’s hand kneading just above your hip.

Focus. Breathe. you tell yourself.

But it’s too late; you can feel the ache in center fading and being replaced with fear and disgust.

In an attempt to preserve your arousal, you gently place a hand at the back of Miguel’s head—as if to tell him to keep going—but it’s no use. What was just been considered hot, tantalizing kisses is now just slobber, each one further cementing that cold and hollow feeling into you.

Just one night. That was all you wanted. Just one night where you could enjoy yourself and Miguel’s company.

“Baby?”

You jump, startled. Slowly, you blink once, returning your attention to the moment. When you look down, you see that Miguel’s gaze is already on you, wide eyes and furrowed brows.

You frown. How long had you been staring at the wall?

“Hey, quierda,” Miguel begins gently. He readjusts himself to his full height, also slightly shifting you so that you now reside on his thigh instead of his lap. He removes his hands from where they had previously been and uses one to cup your cheek and lift your head to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Miguel, I...” you start but you don’t know how to finish.

What do you say? What can you say? How do you begin to explain how you feel? That yes, you want him but you just couldn’t get your mind to settle down. That parts of you are still stuck in a time way before this and couldn’t seem to move on?

“I’m sorry,” you say, gently removing his hands from your face. “I just don’t feel—” you pause, taking a deep breath. Your emotions are all over the place; the last thing you need right now is tears. “—Not tonight, Miguel. Not tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Miguel wastes no time answering. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes immediately start looking you over for cuts and scratches that would need to be tended to.

In the past, you’ve discussed some of your trauma with Miguel. He didn’t know the full story—he didn’t need to—but ever since that first time you informed him, he swore that he would do whatever he could to alleviate some of your pain.

He couldn’t take it away—he knew that for a fact—but he could be there for you. Which is why he’s running through his mind now, thinking of the best way to help.

“How about a shower, yeah?” he finally suggests. “You take a shower and I’ll make dinner.”

You sigh and bite down on your lip, trying to steel yourself.

Though you and Miguel had stopped, you still feel anxious. Your heart is banging against your chest and you feel a knot growing within your throat, making your voice hoarse and strained. But those pale in comparison to what you feel mentally.

Despite being with Miguel, you don’t feel safe. You feel the overwhelming urge to hide under the covers and sob and scrub yourself raw. Your senses are on-edge, gifting you a numbing headache that pummels against your temples despite there being no danger present.

You can’t focus. You want to sleep. Forget. Wake up tomorrow when this is all over.

“A shower sounds nice,” you finally say. “But I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.”

“That’s fine,” Miguel reassures you. “You shower. I’ll be in the living room when you’re finished,”

“Alright,” You give him a small nod, willing yourself to stand and head to the bathroom.

As you go through the motions, you can’t help but steal glance at your body every couple of minutes.

You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know what you’re feeling. A part of you feels scared. Scared because you’re trying so hard not to let your mind go to where your body has seemingly returned. Another part of you feels frustrated. You want Miguel—or at least you wanted him—but you...You didn’t feel fully present. It’s like no matter how hard you tried to be present in the moment, you just couldn’t. You can’t move everything out of your mind. Not by yourself, not with Miguel—hell, sometimes not even while you sleep.

You sigh, running the loofah along your arm again.

Great, another thing to mention in therapy.

You have to be patient with yourself. That was a fact that you learned a long time ago. But sometimes—sometimes it’s so frustrating that it brings tears to your eyes. You feel like a lost cause. Some days you even wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel “normal” again. To be able to relax and let go. To have both your mind and body be on the same page.

The uncertainty of it all brings tears to your eyes and they fall in fat goblets, mixing with the show water as they trickle down the drain.

An hour later, you pad into the living room wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, a light shirt, and the ends of your hair slightly damp.

“Hey,” Miguel turns from the sink to the kitchen counter, turning off the faucet. You look around the kitchen with furrowed brows, hoping that he really didn’t cook anything because you don’t think that you have much of an appetite at all now.

“I made some agua de fresa”, Miguel explains, pointing to the living room. “I know you said you don’t have much appetite but just in case you feel dehydrated, it’s there.”

You look, seeing two glasses of agua de fresa and the TV paused on the first few minutes of your show from earlier. On the couch is your favorite blanket and slightly more pillows than there were earlier.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your throat raw with emotion.

Miguel simply nods, his eyes still scanning your face. “If there’s anything you need—or anything you want—please, just tell me.”

Minutes later, you and Miguel find yourselves on the couch, blanket draped over your laps and a glass of agua de fresa in your hand. The blanket acts as a tether between the two of you—close enough for the two of you to feel each other’s warmth but not close enough that you were on top of each other, a sensation that you couldn’t handle right now.

“...Ay Dios mío, why would he do that?” Miguel frowns, angrily pointing to the TV. “I swear, I don’t know how can watch this show so calmly; some people are really stupid,”

For the first time tonight, you giggle and you feel some of the tension from earlier dissipate. You smile down at your stomach, as if it would return the gesture.

Patience, you remind yourself.

It most definitely hasn’t been a perfect night but it’s starting to get better. And, for the first time in a long time, you feel yourself relaxing a bit, getting consumed by the moment.

As you look around you, you can only sigh in relief.

In due time. Maybe not soon, but you’re on your way. In due time.

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading. Admittedly, this fic was a little personal and I just wanted to clarify that I know this isn’t everybody's experience or way or handling things but it is mine so that’s what I went off of.

To everyone in a similar situation: It will be okay. Maybe not now but one day it will. Please keep going and take care of yourselves.

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ferrstappen · 2 years

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loving him is red l Charles Leclerc Imagine

a/n: it’s been YEARS since I've written something but I have too many ideas and time so I'll give it a try again <3 any feedback is appreciated and than you for reading <3

also, of course the only song I could think of is Red by Taylor Swift (taylor’s version ofc)... I mean... how could I not?

genre: fluff.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female singer!reader.

summary: Charles’ girlfriend receives her first Grammy for Song of the Year, sadly enough the inspiration behind the song isn’t able to make it to the ceremony.

“This feels so wrong, I should be there to support you... You’re always here for races and shit” Charles said while watching her get ready on a fancy hotel room, meanwhile he was stuck in Maranello.

“Please don’t, it’s pre-season and all that, you know they needed you there today. Plus, I'll be home by tomorrow so we can celebrate... or you can console me since I'm probably losing anyway.” (Y/N) quietly said the last part while sipping some expensive sparkling wine her assistant brought to the room.

“You are not losing! Babe, how many times do I need to tell you that?” Charles sounded truly exasperated with his girlfriend, like he truly had told her many many times.

Truth be told, she never thought she would be considerate at all. Yes, her label had submitted her second album and the first single of the record, but they were almost obligated to do so, it was an unspoken rule in the music industry that you just had to do the entire “for your Grammy consideration” portfolio if you wanted to be taken seriously, but (Y/N) never really thought the song she first released from her album would be such a hit.

Honestly, they just were words her heart could think of whenever she saw Charles, because he truly was red... In the way he wore the color so proudly, from the way his car was always a shiny red even when he was driving it in the driest of the deserts, to the way he loved her so passionately, fearlessly and undoubtedly... He was red.

It never made sense to her that millions around the world would mix her lyrics on Ferrari t-shirts or that fans would wait for Charles on the stands with bright red lyrics of the song.

He loved it, by the way. He would flush a bright red whenever someone on the grid teased him about it, pretended he was shy about everyone knowing those words were for him, but his heart would sing a little every single time he listened or read the verses meant for him, just as he would make sure the camera would capture your cute face over FaceTime when he got a podium and you couldn’t be here, or how he made sure to tell you his best joke when you’d arrive to the paddock holding hands, loving the way the photographers captured your laugh and the glint in his eyes just by being the reason of your smile.

He had the superior relationship and he just knew it, and he made sure the rest of the word knew it as well.

“So, are you finally going to show me the dress?” Charles said while putting his headphones on to ignore the world outside of his driver’s room.

She cheekily smiled. “No, not really” She told him, earning a dissatisfied groan from him.

“Then when do you want me to see it? On TV like the rest of the world?” He argued, his accent getting thicker.

“Actually yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” (Y/N) was going to keep talking, but her assistant let her know the dress had just arrived and they needed her full attention.

“No, I heard that! You can mute me and I’ll just watch over here!” Charles pleaded, earning a heartily laugh from her girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry, bebé. I have to go, but you can watch me on TV though!”

Charles sighed, unable to hide his grin. “You know I'll be glued, I don’t care about the time or anything,” even through his noise-cancelling headphones he could hear a big commotion outside his room, meaning someone would come knocking on his door soon. He took a deep breath before focusing his eyes on his muse again. “I love you so much, chérie. I’m so proud of you and whatever happens tonight doesn’t change that. Please whatever you need I'll have my phone at all times, I’m capable of stoping the car in the middle of nowhere and you know it,” they both laughed. “I’m right there with you, I love you.”

She repeated the same words over and over again, feeling a bit numb as several people helped her fitting the red Maison Valentino dress to perfection. It was a whirlwind from there, the last glance she took of herself in the mirror was to make sure the small prancing horse shaped stud earrings, a nod to her man watching on tv.

As if writing a Grammy nominated song and almost an entire album about him wasn’t enough...

Her hands couldn’t help the tingling on the palm of her hands, her body knowing she was missing her other half; he always needed to fix his tie or style a stubborn strand of hair, and it always calmed her nerves to take care of him.

Back in Italy, Charles was anxiously watching the TV in front of him, some friends, including Carlos, were sitting around the living room, mindlessly chatting about some of the artists performing on the Grammys, what were the plans for the night, the next Real Madrid game...

But Charles eyes were trained on his girl smiling in front of the TV, feeling giddy as she gracefully walked down the carpet on her silky red dress, eyes shining and smile intoxicating.

The night flew by and Charles swore he could feel your hand squeezing his as they announced the category he had been waiting for. Harry Styles was on the stage with the envelope.

Everything went by so quickly, Charles didn’t notice his friends had shut up and were with their eyes trained on the TV. They all collectively gasped when the brit announced Red by (Y/N) as the song of the year.

Then it was just noise; from the TV, from people cheering on the theatre as she hid her face on the palm on her hands, to the living room where Charles had rose to his feet hugging everyone around him.

To anyone on the outside it would’ve seemed like their country had won the World Cup.

“God, I don’t know how to begin,” She shakily said while holding the gramophone. “I know I’m supposed to say that this is for my fans and my label and everyone who believed in me, and it is but...” She smiled to herself. “This is for you, the inspiration behind every word, every verse, every note. My incredible boyfriend who makes my heart sing and my life happy. They haven’t invented the words to tell you how much I love you,” She could feel tears building on the corner of her eyes, until she saw a stage producer informing she only had ten seconds left to wrap up her speech. “God, just ten seconds? Thank you so much to everyone, Char I love you with my entire heart, and thank you to everyone for this I’ll always have this moment in my heart, even after I’m gone I’m sure this is gonna be engraved. Thank you!”

The camera captured her glistening eyes as she smiled through the lens. Charles had unshed tears as his heart was beating loudly. Only seconds passed until his phone was vibrating with an incoming FaceTime call.

“So... Did you like the red dress?” She joked and he laughed through the unshed proud tears. He never knew he could feel so much pride and love for another person.

He chuckled. “I loved it, and I love you so much words cannot explain. Fuck, how come I wasn’t there?”

Their love was red.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you

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slexenskee · 7 months

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Detour (MDNSY Oneshot)

For an ask about the reactions of the JJK cast on MDNSY Gojo's... everything 😂

Scrubstan22 finds himself in the (un)enviable position of explaining Ru-kun to the JJK cast

(Link here: or read below)

Nanabi Shun, better known by his online handle ‘Scrubstan22’ is having his most surreal day yet. An unhinged mad scientist turned villain with a space-time quirk and an obsession with Ru-kun that borders on the same level as even the most delusional of Scrubs, has accidentally flung him, an innocent bystander, into an alternate dimension.

This would be terrifying, if it wasn’t apparently some kind of alternate dimension where Ru-kun’s anime is real.

And not only is it real… it’s apparently Ru-kun’s true origin story??

To be fair, it’s still terrifying, but Scrubstan22 has more pressing matters to focus on than his own mortality and possible impending doom.

Gojo Satoru apparently exists in this world— but Ru-kun does not.

It’s utterly absurd! It’s unreasonable and unfair! Maybe those songs really do already exist in this world— as the very unamused talking Panda keeps trying to tell him— but if No Scrubs and Ru-kun aren’t performing it, then they don’t actually exist at all! Nanabi couldn’t possibly put into words how life-changing it was to see Ru-kun perform in person. The fact that he doesn’t exist in this world— or at least not as the shit-posting global celebrity rockstar that Nanabi knows him as— is really quite sad. These poor kids don’t know what they’re missing out on. As a major Scrub and Ru-kun simp, Nanabi just can’t let this slide. He has to rectify it immediately.

Luckily he has a perfect solution.

His entire downloaded archive of all things No Scrubs and Ru-kun.

Some of Gojo Satoru’s students are more impressed than others.

“I hate that he looks so good in that skirt,” comes from the glasses-wearing girl. Maki, he thinks is her name. He only watched through the anime once so he’s pretty bad with the names of all the side characters.

“I should have known he’d make an excellent Sailor Moon after he stole my uniform.” Kugisaki Nobara complains, looking exactly as her character does in the anime.

Neither of them are enthused to see Ru-kun in his crossdressing glory, but Nanabi notices they’re unwillingly enthralled nonetheless.

Itadori Yuuji himself— the main character of Cursed Fight Season One— is unsurprisingly the most enthusiastic about it all. He nearly climbs over Nanabi for a better look at the recording on his phone, eyes alight.

“Sensei is so cool as a rockstar! It really suits him well!” Itadori exclaims, delighted. “And he’s singing ‘My Chemical Romance’? Sensei has such good taste!”

“He’s just an emo-punk loser who clearly had way too much time on his hands,” Fushiguro Megumi protests, although despite his inflammatory remarks he too doesn’t look away from the screen.

Apparently quite a few No Scrubs’ songs are from this band ‘My Chemical Romance’. Yuuji even shows him the music video of the same song from the actual band just to prove it, although that was wholly unnecessary. Nanabi believes him when he says all these songs already exist in this world and belong to other bands— he just doesn’t care. If anything, seeing the other bands perform it just confirms what he already believed; Ru-kun does it better.

Nanabi is happy to show them all the fan recordings he has of No Scrubs, gushing over the various outfit choices and the songs themselves. It’s actually kind of nice that these songs exist already, because that means these kids already know them and he can argue about which are superior without having to explain. Itadori’s favorite is ‘A Loaded God Complex’, called ‘Sugar We’re Goin’ Down’ in this world (although Itadori admits the changed title suits Ru-kun far more), Fushiguro’s is ‘Island in the Sun’, and Panda translates that Inumaki’s is ‘Thanks for the Memories’, but Panda himself confesses he’s unfamiliar with this genre of music. The two girls decry all their picks as boring, and don’t seem particularly impressed by any of Ru-kun’s songs until—

“Paramore!!” The two girls screech in unison, suddenly looking a lot more invested than they had earlier.

Nanabi has up a recording from the Scrubs Unite tour, which Ru-kun had done entirely in drag. They’d finally gotten to the encore, where Ru-kun had tried to weasel his female bandmates into singing the encore song, insisting it was made for a female vocalist. They summarily denied him, so he ended up singing the song himself, called Misery Business. It’s one of Nanbi’s favorite performances, and one Ru-kun hasn’t done since.

Even Maki and Kugisaki are begrudgingly impressed.

“He sounds like a male Hayley Williams— that’s so fucking unfair,” Kugisaki denounces, despairing. “Why does that bastard have to be good at everything, seriously.”

“The outfit is pretty spot on too, if he just dyed his hair, it’d be a great cosplay.” Maki agrees, sourly.

“Does he play anything else from Riot?” Kugsaki rounds on him. “What about That’s What You Get?”

Nanabi looks up at her helplessly. “Sorry, I don’t think so. But they apparently have a ton of unreleased stuff though, so maybe I just haven’t heard it.”

Apparently back when No Scrubs was truly an underground band playing random shows at dive bars, they had an insanely large setlist. Most of those songs never made it onto any of the official recordings. He’s heard rumors online that there’s a vinyl floating around, but aside from a single interview with All Might, has no real confirmation of its existence.

“I think it’s awesome that Sensei has an alternate personality as a rockstar,” Yuuji enthuses, looking rather fond and indulgent as he stares down at Ru-kun strutting across a stage. “I hope it’s more relaxing than being The Strongest all the time.”

Nanabi blinks at him. “Oh. He’s that too.”

The Jujutsu Tech students stare at him blankly. “... What?”

As it turns out, they’re all collectively more confused and bewildered by the whole Sixwings thing than they are the ‘world’s strongest’ thing. In this world, since the moment of his birth Gojo Satoru was always meant to be the strongest. That he can destroy armies in the blink of an eye and pull out purple-laser-death-beams-of-doom (apparently a technique called Hollow Purple in this world) and walk through explosions unscathed is just common knowledge among the Jujutsu World.

So all of his footage of Dabi’s many international exploits was met with a genial disinterest.

His media folder of Sixwings, however…

“He’s… really in a relationship?” Kugisaki looks utterly confounded. “A normal, healthy, longterm relationship?”

“He’s getting married?” Maki sounds bewildered.

“He has a kid?” Fushiguro sounds unimpressed.

Panda scratches his chin. “Huh. Hey, that’s good for him! He sounds like he’s actually a well-adjusted and normal guy.”

“Is his boyfriend a psychopath?” Kugisaki asks, urgently. “I really can’t see how else this would work out.”

“Not at all! Hawks is well-known as a very charming and friendly hero. He’s actually a really good guy.” Nanabi protests.

Kugisaki squints at him. “How the hell does he put up with him then?”

Nanabi smiles sheepishly. “Uh… he’s pretty easygoing I guess?”

Maki is leaning over him for a better look at his phone, using her fingers to zoom in on the photo he has up of Hawks and Ru-kun at the U.A. School Festival. He doesn’t swing that way, but even he has to admit they looked really good that day. And with Eri thrown in on top of it? It’s no wonder they’re regularly voted as the cutest couple in Japan.

“Damn. They actually look really good together.” Maki says, begrudging.

“Tuna, tuna.” Inumaki pokes Panda in the side.

Panda gives a solemn nod. “Inumaki-kun has a good point. What’s all this gossip about a Sixwings baby?”

“Oh, that’s Eri-chan.” Nanabi scrolls down to a better photo of her. There’s one from the Ru-kun signing event at Tower Records, where a sinfully good-looking Ru-kun is holding her on his hip and waving out to the crowds. “She’s the child he birthed from his own body.”

Fushiguro blinks rapidly. “He what now?”

“He’s fucking with you.” Kugisaki denies immediately.

Nanabi shrugs. “Maybe— but no one knows for sure! To be honest, none of his powers make much sense to us, so some people believe it and others don’t.”

Maki’s expression turns worried. “Well, they’re not all that clear to us either… I mean, there’s a lot you can do with cursed energy…”

She glances up at Panda. Panda just gives her a thumbs up. “That’s right! I mean, I exist, so who knows!”

“There’s a couple different rumors about it, but none are confirmed.” Nanabi fills them in with a gleeful expression. “The main one is that she really is the Sixwings baby, and they had her when they were teenagers and kept it a secret. There’s also a couple variations where Eri is his child, but the regular way, but he’s slept with a lot of people and none of them were women so people are pretty skeptical about it. Then there’s also the theory that he did birth her from his own body, but not with Hawks. There’s no real guesses on who her father is for that one.”

His companions look at him with varying degrees of incredulity. Nanabi spreads his hands. “The likely answer is he’s just messing with everyone and she’s adopted, but like I said, we really don’t know!”

Itadori doesn’t really seem to care about the truth either way, grabbing at his phone to scroll through the photos. “They’re so cute together! Haha, she really kind of even does look like sensei a little bit! She’s definitely just as stylish as he is!”

Itadori keeps scrolling until he gets to the infamous Swing incident, saved in all its glory in an endless gif format.

They all stare in silence as, on screen, Gojo Satoru gets KO’d by his kid on a swing set over and over again.

“Send me that.” Kugisaki demands.

Scrubstan22 gets rescued eventually. It’s a pretty boring affair, truth be told. He didn’t see any real curses, or any kind of fighting.

Gojo doesn’t return to campus until long after the sun has set, to the bizarre scene of all his students shoving their phones at poor Nanami, who looks as if he regretted ever coming in person to turn in his paperwork. They’re apparently trying to show Nanami photos of Gojo in drag, despite his vocal protests. The moment they lay eyes on him they pounce on him instead. None of their explanations make any sense. There’s something about him being a rockstar, and also married, and apparently a mother, and they have plenty of blurry photo evidence they try to shove at him. It looks like they all took photos of someone else’s screenshots, so the quality leaves much to be desired. Maybe if he squints really hard, that does kind of look like him in a mini skirt, but who’s to say really?

Unfortunately for the students, the space-time continuum rights itself overnight and they all lose their collective memory of Scrubstan22 and his alternate-universe. But the digital evidence remains, and occasionally Kugisaki will pull out her phone and watch a very random gif of Gojo-sensei getting smacked to the ground by a kid on a swing, and while she has no idea where it came from, she draws immense satisfaction from it anyway.

#mdnsy oneshots #fic may death never stop you

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