#but god knows I can only work on one fic at a time or none of them wojld get finished | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 7 months ago

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FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you.

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too.

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint.

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight.

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again.

You notice - of course, you do.

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way.

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!”

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos.

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out.

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head.

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso.

Mom?

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst.

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt.

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page.

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-”

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better.

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly.

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM.

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with.

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake.

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy.

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers.

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.”

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity.

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering.

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe.

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose.

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five.

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching.

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder.

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-”

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum.

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high.

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch.

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.”

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue.

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck-

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins.

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him.

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate.

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut.

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass.

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course.

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock.

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and-

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago.

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more-

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?”

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so.

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again.

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick.

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh.

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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caramelkoo · 24 days ago

Text

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing.

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile.

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.”

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?”

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have.

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.”

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter.

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?”

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No.

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes.

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves.

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it.

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides.

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me.

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense.

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.”

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?”

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything?

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?”

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you.

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always.

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.”

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing.

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?”

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.”

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices.

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work.

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?”

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it?

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew.

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness.

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness.

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?”

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries.

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up.

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.”

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss”

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing.

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate.

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won.

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off.

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know?

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him.

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade?

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory.

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man.

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?”

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones.

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.”

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?”

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?”

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle.

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways.

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off.

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh.

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room.

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.”

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps.

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you.

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts.

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.”

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive.

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.”

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?”

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod.

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-”

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows.

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway.

“Excuse me.”

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?”

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.”

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?”

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.”

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before.

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision.

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter.

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him.

“You fucking bitch.”

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished.

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize.

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe”

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care.

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you.

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back.

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”.

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?”

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question.

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her.

Initially, it bothered him. A lot.

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?”

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse.

Thump thump thump.

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.”

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.”

And he does. For now.

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one.

Just when he thinks _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?”

“Come here.”

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.”

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?”

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.”

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint.

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers.

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine.

The feeling is very much mutual.

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting.

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will.

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it.

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily.

“Please.” she begs.

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?”

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.”

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her.

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her.

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that.

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car.

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?”

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?”

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers.

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own.

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick.

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?”

“As sure as one can be.”

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers.

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her.

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch.

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her.

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure.

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name.

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back.

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?”

She cries out.

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god”

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.”

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again.

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders.

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate.

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts.

“What?”

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes”

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?”

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words.

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry.

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.”

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fireinmoonshot · 6 months ago

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the hard way | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Tyler Owens have a bad habit of butting heads, but all it takes is one hint of jealousy and things change in the blink of an eye. Warnings: Tyler is lowkey an asshole, but reader can be too, there is a creepy guy that tries to come onto reader and puts his hands on her. Word Count: 4.2k A/N: I rewatched the original Twister movie today and got this idea while watching it and then it all just came out of my head onto the page and here we have it! I had so much fun writing this, it's honestly one of my favourite Tyler fics I've done so far. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for all the love on my Twisters fics so far!

“Oh, here we go again,” Boone says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you walking towards Tyler, your laptop in your hands. Judging by the look on your face, you have something fairly important to show Tyler – and Boone knows Tyler won’t be happy about it.

Dani sighs beside him, her legs kicked up on their cooler from their spot at the motel. It’s late at night and none of the storms had turned into anything today, leading to a very long day for all of you. You’d driven hundreds of miles only to end up with no new footage.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to get mad?” Dani asks.

“He’s just spotted her and he already looks annoyed, so I’d guess straight away.”

They watch on from a distance as you finally reach Tyler. You move to stand beside him so he can see the screen of your laptop. “I was right after all,” you glance up at him. “See this? That storm was never going to amount to anything and even the radar showed it dying out. We could have saved ourselves half a tank of gas and a few hours if you’d listened to me.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and looks away from your laptop, trying to focus on not burning the dinner he’s been cooking the team on the barbecue that the motel has. “Okay, I get it. But I can’t go back in time and listen to you, so will you just drop it? I’ve had to listen to this all day. You’re drivin’ me insane, sunshine’.”

“Well, if you had listened to me, I wouldn’t have kept bugging you about it, T.”

It’s never been smooth sailing between you and Tyler. You get along most of the time, sure – you have to when you’re working together. But you also tend to butt heads more often than not. With both of you having studied meteorology, you’re the only two members of the team with formal training, which means you often have differing opinions on your interpretations of the weather and the forecasts.

You disagree with Tyler, he disagrees with you and the rest of the Wranglers watch on, both amused and irritated at the fact that the two of you just can’t seem to work together sometimes. There are, of course, times when you can deal with it. But today… well, Boone had been glad to get out of the car at the end of the day and distance himself from the two of you.

He swears he’s not riding with you both tomorrow.

“If I listen to you now, will you stop bugging me still?” Tyler looks at you.

With a scowl, you slam your laptop shut and hold it under your arm. “If you listen to me tomorrow, then I might stop bugging you. I am not having another failed day chasing because of your inability to choose which storms to follow.”

Tyler sighs. “Why do you always have to do things the hard way?”

You huff and walk away, heading back over to the rest of the team. You grab a drink out of the cooler and sit down on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck, sitting your laptop beside you. The other members of the team watch you cautiously, like you’re a brewing storm that could become a tornado at any moment.

“Anyone wanna take my spot in the truck tomorrow? I’ll ride elsewhere,” you offer.

Boone stares at you for a moment. “You promise?”

You make a face at Boone and take a sip of your drink. “Yes, I promise,” you say. “I’m sorry you had to listen to all that today. God, he just drives me up the wall sometimes. I don’t know how he expects us to continue running this damn Youtube channel or get the research we need if we don’t get the right storms to chase.”

“Hey, no Tyler talk while you’re over here,” Dani pipes up. “This is a safe zone.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter, lapsing into silence just as Dexter, Lily and Kate re-join the group, having headed upstairs to their rooms to refresh themselves before coming back down for dinner. You watch as Kate heads over to help Tyler out.

By the time the two of them bring dinner over to you, you’ve managed to cool off a fair amount and are now discussing the forecast for tomorrow with Dexter, who is leant up against the truck, looking at your laptop over your shoulder.

“Burgers are ready,” Kate announces as they place the tray of them on the small camp table that someone had set up earlier in the evening. “We worked real hard on them.”

You’re surprised when Tyler picks up two paper plates, puts a burger on each of them and then walks over to you, handing one of them to you before taking the seat beside you on the tailgate.

“Truce?” He says, looking across at you. “I’m sorry ‘bout today, I mean it.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “You promise you didn’t poison my burger?”

Tyler chuckles. “No, not unless Kate put something in there that I didn’t see.”

“Okay, then. Truce,” you nod. “But I’m not riding with you tomorrow.”

He raises his eyebrows just as he takes a bite of his burger. It takes him a few moments to reply, refusing to speak with a mouth full of food – something his mother had instilled in him from a very young age. “What? Why? You’re not still that mad at me, are you?”

“No, I just need a change of scenery or I’m worried I’ll run you off the road. I saw the way you got today when you got distracted cause I was arguing with you. It’ll be good for us to cool off and get a break from each other.”

From across the group, Boone adds “I think you just want to argue over the radio, actually. That’s what you mean by a change of scenery, isn’t it?” His voice is teasing.

“Funny,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You can ride with me and Lily tomorrow,” Kate changes the subject ever so slightly. “Boone can ride with Tyler. Just like old times, right?”

You look at Tyler, expecting him to be happy with the idea of you riding with the others tomorrow so you don’t bother him all day, but instead he looks concerned. His eyebrows are knotted together and the look on his face shows he’s displeased.

“Ty?”

He blinks and the look disappears off of his face. “Yeah, go for it. Boone and I’ll be right, hey buddy?” He raises his beer in a cheers to Boone, who does the same thing. “Don’t miss me too much from the other car though.”

“Me, missing you? I think you should try not to miss me, T.”

Tyler grins. “Easier said than done, sunshine.”

The following morning it feels strange to be getting into a car that’s not Tyler’s red truck. It’s your usual mode of transport. Your seat is the passenger seat and it has been for most of the chases in the past, except for ones where footage was the primary purpose of the chase and not research.

You’re just lifting your bag up into the trunk of Lily’s car when Tyler swoops in behind you and helps you lift it – as if it weighed more than it actually did, as if you were actually having trouble with it. You turn around, eyebrows raised.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Tyler grins. “Haven’t had a sudden change of heart, I see?”

“Not happening,” you smile in return. “You’ll be fine without me. You and Boone will be able to catch up like old times. And don’t worry, if we disagree on something, I’ll be sure to let you know about it over the radio anyway. I have Kate on my side today.”

Tyler laughs. “Oh, double whammy. I’m in danger today, aren’t I?”

Kate appears from the other side of the car, putting her own bag in beside yours. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and shoots a smile at Tyler. “You’re gonna regret letting her ride in a car other than yours today, Tyler. A day driving with Lily and I… she’s gonna be a changed woman by the time she gets back in your truck tomorrow.”

“That’s if I even want to get back in his truck, Kate.”

He stares at the two of you and then shakes his head and laughs to himself. “Okay, I’m getting Boone and getting out of here before Lily shows up and you guys gang up on me even more,” he turns and heads for his truck. “Drive safe, all right?”

You and Kate both laugh, watching him as he walks towards his truck, Boone joining him on the way there. Dani and Dexter aren’t far behind him, hopping into the van, and Lily comes bounding down the steps after them, her bag over her own shoulder.

“We ready for today, ladies!?” She calls loudly from across the lot.

“Let’s do this!” Kate matches her energy.

You take the back seat, feeling incredibly out of place in the car as Lily starts the engine and follows the other two cars out of the parking lot, leaving the motel behind. It’s smaller in this car compared to Tyler’s, and as you pull your laptop out of your bag and get the radar up on it to get another look at the storm you’d all chosen earlier in the morning, you wonder if you made the right choice.

You’ve been on the road for two hours, heading for a storm north of you when you look down at the radar again and see that it’s gotten smaller – not becoming the larger storm you were all hoping for and certainly not likely to produce a tornado. It’s your job to reach up and grab the radio from between Lily and Kate in the front seats to inform the others.

“The storm’s shrinking, I think we should pull into a gas station and regroup,” you tell the others through the radio, already preparing yourself for the response.

It comes through almost instantly. Tyler, laughing, then his voice: “What was that you were saying to me last night about listening to you? Guess you’re off your game, darlin’.”

Kate grabs the radio off of you before you can say anything else. “Okay, we all chose this storm together, Tyler. Let’s not throw accusations around and not over the radio.”

You’re unaware that in the truck, Boone is telling Tyler off for the exact same thing.

“Thanks, Kate,” you reach forward and squeeze her shoulder as she hands the radio back to you. “Next gas station, let’s pull in and we can all look at the radar together. I don’t think we’re gonna get anything massive in the time it takes us to regroup.”

“You sure about that, sunshine?” Tyler’s voice comes through the radio again. “I don’t know if we can trust your ability to forecast the weather anym–” His voice cuts off abruptly.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” You hear Boone say shortly after. “We’ll see you at the gas station.”

You give the radio back to Kate and lean back in your seat, sighing as you look out the window at the blue sky and the clouds scattered around it. How could he have been perfectly tolerable last night during dinner, help you with your bag this morning and yet be so irritating? You hadn’t even said anything to spur him on.

It’s about an hour later by the time you reach the next gas station and you’re grateful when you can get out and stretch your legs. Lily and Kate both head for the bathroom while you head inside to order some drinks and food for the three of you. You don’t bother to wait for Tyler when you see him hop out of his truck.

He makes his way up to you once you’re inside, waiting for your drinks to be made.

“How’s the other car goin’?” Tyler asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

You look at him, arms crossed over your chest, and look away, choosing to say nothing.

“Come on, sunshine. You’re seriously ignoring me? Where’s that fiery attitude of yours? Just cause you’re in another car doesn’t mean you can’t give me shit right back when I give it to you,” he tries.

But you’re not interested in the slightest. His words had been uncalled for – especially when you’d moved to another car in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two of you, and he’d just brought it right back up.

The waitress slides the drinks over the counter and calls your name just as Lily and Kate exit the bathroom, heading straight for you.

“Can you guys watch my drink? I need to go grab my phone from the car,” you tell them.

Lily and Kate happily take your drink, moving to stand beside Tyler and make conversation with him as you head back outside to grab your phone. You don’t really need it that badly, it’d be perfectly fine to leave in the car till you headed back outside anyway, but it was your way of getting out of a conversation with Tyler. Not that it really was much of a conversation anyway.

When your phone is in hand, you make no hurry to walk back inside the gas station. You make note of several other storm chasers in the parking lot and filling up their cars with gas. It’s a popular stretch of road for chasers and you assume several of them had been chasing the same storm as you and had realised it was going to be a bust.

You almost bump into one of them as you’re heading back inside. You recognise him instantly. He’s in one of the more well known teams, one of the Wranglers rivals and one of the many other groups of chasers that think you guys are just in it for the money you get from the Youtube videos rather than a genuine love of weather and chasing.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite Tornado Wrangler,” Xavier flashes a smile at you and holds the door open for you to enter, following in after you. “Bit of tension in the group, I hear.”

You frown, unsure about his words meaning, when he continues.

“One of my guys was switching frequencies in the van and got yours on accident. We, uh, we heard your little… disagreement with Owens,” he admits. “I promise we weren’t listening in on purpose. That’s the last thing I’d wanna do. But y’know… open channels and all.”

You can’t help but cringe at his words and let out an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Xavier. It’s nothing a little time and a successful storm won’t fix, anyway. I think everyone in the chasing community knows Tyler and I butt heads nearly every day.”

“Butt heads? Honey, that sounded a lot more like an intentional insult to me.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, Tyler wouldn’t do that.”

Hearing that Xavier thought Tyler’s words were an insult is the kick you need to make you realise that they weren’t. Tyler was the type to get on your nerves, that was true. But the type to intentionally insult you in an attempt to hurt your feelings? He would never do that.

Xavier gives you an unimpressed look. “Listen, honey – we have a spot available in our team and it’s yours if you want it,” He reaches out and places a hand on your waist, almost making you flinch at the action. You resist the urge to hit his hand off. “You have the degree to prove you know what you’re doing and I think we both know you’re wasting your time with the Wranglers. Especially proven that their leader seems to treat you like something on the bottom of his shoe… me, on the other hand, well… I’d treat you better.”

You try your hardest to control your expression, not wanting to come across the wrong way or to make a scene in front of everyone in the gas station – your team, his team and the several other teams and general patrons all milling about and eating their mid-day feed. Even though you feel uncomfortable as all hell and would love nothing more than to deliver a swift punch to his nose and book it straight back out the door.

“Listen, Xavier,” you take a step closer to him and almost cringe at the way his lips move up into a smile at your closer proximity. “I wouldn’t join your team if it was the last storm chasing team on earth. If you think I’m wasting my time with my team, I hate to think how much time I’d waste on yours. I’ve seen how much time you spend looking in your car mirrors. If you didn’t know, the tornadoes don’t actually care how your hair looks.” You reach up and pat his chest condescendingly. “And if I hear you say one more bad word about Tyler Owens, I’ll make sure the whole chasing community knows about what happened here today, how you tried to come onto me just to get me to join your team. Trust me, it won’t end well for you.”

You don’t waste anymore time in removing his hand from your waist and leaving him standing alone as you head back over to your group. Kate and Lily are watching you from right where you left them, though Tyler isn’t with them anymore.

Kate hands you your drink. “You all right? What the hell was that?”

“Just Xavier being an asshole,” you mutter, risking a look over your shoulder to see that he’s gone to join the rest of his group. You hope he’s seething and embarrassed by your words. “I dealt with him though.”

You can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling still running through your body, though. You try and take a sip of your coffee to calm yourself down. It doesn’t work, really only making you feel more jittery and strange.

“I’m gonna go wait out at the car, when you guys are all done we can check the radar together and decide where to go from here, all right? You guys can tell the others?” You ask.

Kate nods. “Yeah, course. You sure you’re okay, though?”

You look between her and Lily, noticing the worried looks on their faces, and try and put a smile on your own face to stop them from worrying so much. “Yeah, I promise. It’s just packed to the brim in here and I wanna get some fresh air after all the driving.”

You can feel Kate and Lily’s eyes on you as you leave, coming out the door you’d only just come inside through. You make a beeline straight to the car, taking a deep breath, grateful for the cool breeze on your skin and the warmth of the sun above you. The uncomfortable feeling starts to fade as you open the door to the car and climb up, putting your coffee in the cup holder and leaving your feet hanging out the door as you start to scroll on your phone to distract yourself.

It’s only a few minutes later when someone stands in the way of the sun and casts a shadow over you. You blink up to meet Tyler’s eyes. He stands in the doorway of the truck, a hand on his hip.

“Already scouting a new group to join cause of me, are you?” He starts, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and come out to see you and freakin’ Xavier all close? When the hell did that happen?”

You let out a huff and squeeze your eyes shut. “Seriously, T, can you not do this right now?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to insult you over the radio, sunshine. Usually, you give it right back to me, so that’s what I was expecting, and I know I took it too far – Boone said as much after we put the radio down. I really am sorry about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him it’s all right, that you accept his apology, but he continues speaking, cutting you off and making you glad you never got a chance to actually speak.

“But out of everyone, I see you flirting with Xavier? I mean, come on.”

“I wasn’t flirting–”

“Sure as hell looked that way to me,” he huffs. “You two were all touchy. I saw it.”

You take a deep breath and move to stand up, forcing him to move out of your way. You close the car door behind you and turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. You are not going to have this argument like this.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous, Tyler.”

Tyler doesn’t hesitate before he replies. “Well, that’s cause I am.”

For the first time since you’ve known Tyler Owens, you’re lost for words. You open your mouth once, twice, unable to come up with anything to say to him. It seems Tyler is the same, just staring at you, his eyes ever so slightly wide.

“Then… then you’re jealous for all the wrong reasons,” you manage.

You should be saying something else – teasing him, getting on his nerves, but your short response is all you can get out and it’s nothing like your usual tone when you talk to Tyler.

He frowns. “Why is that?”

You clear your throat. “Cause he was the one coming onto me, telling me to join his team and talking shit about you, and I was the one telling him not to talk shit about you and not to put his hands on me, like he thought he could clearly do without consent.”

As soon as you finish speaking, you regret your words only because of the look that crosses over Tyler’s face. He glances over your shoulder towards the gas station where you assume Xavier and his team still are.

“That piece of shit,” Tyler mutters, and then he’s moving.

You’re quick to react, hurrying after him and reaching out to grab his arm and attempt to tug him to a stop. It doesn’t work the first time, but the second time it does. “Tyler, stop. You going in there is not going to help anything, it’s just going to make things worse.”

Tyler turns to look at you and you’ve never seen him look so mad before.

“You’re telling me that guy put his hands on you and tried to come onto you and you don’t want me to go and give him a piece of my mind? Sunshine, he deserves worse than what I can do to him, but I’ll do my best,” he says.

You don’t miss the fact that Tyler manoeuvres your grip on his arm to take your hand in his instead, weaving his fingers in-between yours and giving your hand a squeeze.

“I’m saying that I already gave him a piece of my mind, T, and I threatened that I’d tell everyone about what he did if he said anything bad about you again,” you explain.

“I don’t care if he says anything about me, but the fact that he did that to you… everyone already deserves to know what a piece of shit he is,” Tyler seethes.

You squeeze his hand, then. “I’m sure they’ll find out one of these days, but not today, T, please. I just wanted to come out here and get some fresh air and try and forget what happened.”

Tyler takes a breath and then takes a step towards you, away from the gas station. “Do you want company or do you want me to go back inside and tell the others to hang back inside a while?”

“You’d do that?”

He laughs softly. “Have the last few minutes not shown you that I’d do pretty much anything for you, sunshine? And last night? The last thing I wanted was for you to ride with someone else other than me, but I could tell it’s what you wanted, so I didn’t fight you on it.”

“And what you said over the radio this morning?”

“I missed you and the way you always disagree with me. I just acted on it the wrong way.”

“Yeah,” you nod your head. “You were a real asshole.”

Tyler’s face breaks out into a grin. “Not gonna disagree with you on that one.”

You stare up at him for a moment, honestly surprised at how quickly things had changed between you. Only minutes ago, Tyler was mad at you, then he was mad at Xavier and now he was standing here, smiling at you like you were as bright as the sun. His nickname was fitting for you, you suppose.

“Will you just come and stay with me for a bit? Till whenever the others come out?” You ask, nodding your head back towards the car where you’d been sitting before.

Tyler nods. “I have one condition, though.”

“Name it.”

“You sit in my truck instead, and you come back and ride with me in it again.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. “That’s two conditions, actually, T.”

“And you didn’t say no to either of them,” Tyler smiles. “Come on, sunshine.”

#twisters #twisters x reader #twisters x you #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfic

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uravitypng · 10 months ago

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𝐢'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: bakusquad x chubby reader (katsuki bakugo + hanta sero + mina ashido + eijiro kirishima + denki kaminari)

word count: 4.4k words

a/n: definitely haven't been working on this for months <33 this turned out more fluffy than intended for a free use fic asdfghj. basically they all need to be dating!!! none of the bakusquad have any contact with each other... yet... idk i might make a part two where they're not just taking turns but all together with the reader

content warnings: free use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (f!recieving & m!recieving), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, groping, biting, dumbification, slight breeding mention, somno, wlw, spanking, petnames - mdni (like my whole tumblr)

when becoming friends and roommates with the bakusquad you didn't realise what it would exactly entail. becoming friends with five successful pro heroes while you're a civilian is something you would never expect, not in your wildest dreams, so it's not a surprise to you that your feelings for them grew with each day and after a particular turn of events you let them use you however they wanted. if they want to take out their frustrations of a stressful day by roughly fucking you than you're more than willing to oblige to their request or if they want to tenderly make love to you after an emotional and exhausting day you're more than willing to oblige- you're their toy after all.

they'll use you anywhere and anywhen, it doesn't matter if you're in public or if you're sleeping, you've given them your full consent.

the first time it happened was with katsuki. he was angry and annoyed and you didn't know what to do, you've never truly seen him like this before and you haven't been friends with him as long as the others have been friends with him, you didn't want to make it worse. ideally you would ask the others what you should do but they were all busy working.

you later found out a journalist cornered him after a minor rescuing incident and asked him more intrusive questions than normal and that day it got to him more than normal too. for some reason the press always seems to ask him more personal questions than other heroes you know and you can't figure out why but you have a few ideas: to see his reaction, to get more information about his private life from him because he's one of the more secretive heroes, or to see his 'real' personality wondering if everything they see in public is all just an image.

"i'm sorry katsuki. is there anything i can do to make you feel a bit better?" you ask him and in less then ten seconds he's pinned you against the wall and is biting your bottom lip making you moan, giving him the opportunity to move his tongue into your mouth, intertwining your tongues and muffling any surprised noises that threaten to come out of you. you feel his large callus palms run all over your body as he pushes up your shirt and touches every single part of his skin he can get his hands on, leaving bruises and pretty marks to decorate your equally pretty body.

katsuki shoves his hand underneath your underwear, not bothering to take off your clothes and fingers you until you start screaming his name and your vision begins to go blurry.

"holy shit katsuki. feel's so good." he pumps two of his thick fingers inside of you and his ego soars as he not only feels how wet you are but hears it too as your cunt squelches and you clench around his fingers. he smirks as you come undone on his fingers chanting his name over and over again, your fists gripping onto his shirt tightly.

"this'll make me feel better," he grunts and tries to press his body closer to yours than it already was, your tits now completely pressed against him. "god shitty woman how oblivious can ya be? swear you're useless sometimes. a fucking dumbass." if you were someone else you might have taken offence to him calling you shitty woman or useless especially in the position you're currently in but you're use to him calling you names by now knowing he doesn't mean them negatively, if anything they're affectionate, most of the time he'll call people extras and you're glad he doesn't see you as an extra.

"oblivious?"

katsuki grits his teeth, "shut up," he grunts and you feel his hardened cock against your thigh, he slams his lips against yours again and starts kissing you even more furiously, if you didn't know better you'd say passionately but you don't think he'd ever kiss you passionately.

he sees your eyes glazed over with a daze on your face and smirks. his hand goes behind you to cups the curve of your ass then slaps with the sound echoing against the walls, making you whine. you feel the humidity that's resting on his palms and your whole body tingles imaging him using his quirk (controlled) on you.

"no one else has made ya feel this good have they sweetheart?" he asks gruffly already knowing the answer.

"no, no one else 'suki. no one has ever made me ever feel this good!" you reply honestly, tears starting to fill your waterline.

he knows you're being honest and if anything you're being more forgiving of your previous sexual encounters and talking more favourable about your past sexual partners than they deserve. "fuckin' criminal."

after what happened with katsuki you sat down with your friends and told them that you give them your consent to use you whenever. katsuki looked so much calmer after and his body looked more relaxed, less tension. you couldn't help but think that your other friends would be the same.

you were bashful the whole time while speaking, mumbling and looking away, your whole face felt like it were on fire but you were offering to help them all, you knew how stressful their work is and you wanted to help.

you want them, you wouldn't tell them that part though, neither did you ever have to think hard on your proposal.

all of them loved the idea, why wouldn't they? they're madly in love with you. over time all of them fell in love with you but none of them would ever make a move on you not willing to lose or jeopardise the friendship they have with you nor are they willing to make a move while knowing how the others feel about you either. you're sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and brilliant, and a hundred million more things that make you special in their eyes.

none of them thought they would ever get the chance to be with you in any such way, romantic or sexual, and they were more then content with being your friend, strictly platonic, but now they get to be your friend and they get to sleep with you, they're ecstatic.

hanta likes cockwarming with you, every single chance he gets he pulls you onto his lap and onto his cock without warning and puts on a movie to watch as he watches you squirm and try to keep still but it's so hard keeping still when the longest dick you've ever seen is inside of you and you feel it throbbing.

hanta sees you struggling and grins as you shift around and whimper quietly. you're biting your hand to try to keep silent but it's ineffective. "hush princesa, i'm trying to watch the film." he says teasingly, holding onto your plush waist to keep you from moving and lifts up your top, caressing your soft skin making you get goosebumps from the sensation of his cold rings touching you.

occasionally he'll lazily thrust up into you, making you squeak, he'll chuckle at the noises you make and get off on how needy you are for him. "you look so beautiful sitting on my lap mi amor," your heart flutters and your face heats up whenever he calls you affectionate names in his first language and especially when he calls you my love, "but aren't you suppose to be pleasing me? you seem very needy and demanding for someone who has offered their body to me." you shudder as he speaks, still with his hand caressing your body.

you look at him and pout, causing his grin to widen. "not my fault, you feel really good."

hanta's voice drops lower and becomes husky while he leans closer to you, "yeah?"

you nod your head and try to wrap your arms around him, admittedly unsuccessfully from the position you're currently in as you're facing away from him to 'watch' the movie with him, making hanta chuckle. "yeah," you reply.

hanta smirks as he looks down at you over your shoulder and tenderly strokes your arm, "beg me to move." with no hesitation you beg.

with everyone else they'll take what they want from you and get you to come as many times as they want (if they do want you to cum) without you having to beg but hanta is different, he'll make you cry and beg for him. no matter how horny he is he'll wait for you to become putty in his hands as you cry buried in the crook of his neck, trying to grind against him and wetting his shoulder with your tears, pleading for anything he gives you. he loves seeing you cry for him and plead for his cock.

you're always so pliant for him and he likes to make you even more pliant. as your reward for listening to him he grabs your wide hips and starts to move you up and down, harshly, making the ability to breathe leave your body momentarily at the sudden movement all while cooing at you, albeit condescendingly. "awe does that feel good princesa? you finding it hard to take it all?" he grins as you tip your head back and rests it on his shoulder, your moans getting louder, unable to respond and form a coherent sentence.

you feel like you feel him all the way in throat, a completely impossible thought of course but it's hard to think otherwise with each time he slams you back down and your pelvis meets his it's making you lose every braincell you have with how good you feel and how good he fills you up.

"open up," you compliantly open your mouth still in a daze and hanta spits in your mouth, grinning as he watches you swallow it without any prior audible command to do so already knowing from previous liaisons.

his pace changes, every so often becoming quicker with shallow thrusts than back to a regular pace with deeper thrusts just to tease you and make you light headed, not knowing what to expect next. his groans become more audible and he grips onto you tighter, his blunt nails making a crescent imprint on your hips. "s-shit hanta i can't, too much."

"i thought you were my good girl. you were begging for me only awhile ago." he smirks, starting to get close.

"i am! i am your good girl, promise! just 's a lot."

he chuckles at your obedience, you really are his good girl, made for him- and the others.

but he does wonder if you're that obedient with them as you are with him.

he purposefully slows down his pace and wraps one arm around your supple middle keeping you bouncing and tilts your chin up to look at him with his other hand before placing a gentle chaste kiss on your lips.

mina seizes every opportunity to lay lingering wet kisses down your neck all the way to your chest. you get goosebumps as you feel her breath against your skin and feel the sticky lipgloss left over from her lips.

mina never wears lipstick but she's nearly always seen wearing lipgloss and they're always flavoured ones, enjoying the look of how the sticky remnant remains on your skin after being transferred from her lips and how you seemingly unconsciously swipe your tongue out over your own lips afterwards to taste the flavour that remains.

whenever a man comes onto her apparently not understanding the word 'no' she comes straight to you afterwards so she can feel you up and touch your soft body and curves. you're so much better than anyone else and she's so glad that you let her touch you however and whenever she wants.

beforehand when someone was so persisted that it grossed her out she still would come to see you, you were roommates and very close friends after all. mina would complain about them and you would listen and bash them because how dare they keep being so disrespectful, unable to be take a hint or handle rejection.

the entire time when mina used to talk about them she'd think about how soft your lips looked, how good her hand would look wrapped around your throat and how she wants to go down on you so bad that you pull her hair and more importantly squeeze your thighs together in between her head.

"such a sweet little thing for me," she tells you and kisses your ankle. you whimper and she opens up your thighs wider for now, wanting to get a good look at your pretty pussy. mina flicks her tongue up against your pussy lips making a shiver run down your spine before her tongue enters into your soaking hole, moaning at your taste and your aroma, making her dizzy in the process. you can't help but squeal and shudder at the sensation as her eyes gleam with every new noise you make. she removes her tongue from inside of you, the sweet taste still lingering on her tongue. she flicks her tongue up again, curling two fingers back into you and starts sucking on your clit.

the pleasure builds up inside of you with every curl of her fingers, "that's a good girl, come for me," mina mumbles against your clit and you squeeze your thighs with mina's head between them, not being able to stop yourself as you're about to come again for the third time in an hour.

"oh fuck, min-" the last syllable of mina's name is silenced in an inaudible groan as the coil in your stomach snapped and you unravelled where she helped to ride out your orgasm still between your doughy thighs.

now she gets her wish whenever she wants as she's able to look up to see how your voluptuous body shakes. she gets to feel how soft and warm your thick thighs feel wrapped around her head.

as you calm down from another intense orgasm you move to look at mina, "what about you?" hinting that you desperately want to return the favour.

she can see the neediness in your eyes and giggles. "i can't right now sweet pea, i've got to go to work."

"already?"

mina giggles again, "i'll be back soon babes then we can carry on from where we left off, okay?" she smiles brightly and takes her leave feeling equalling as needy as you but who can blame her when she spent the last hour pleasuring you and feeling your plump body underneath hers and getting you see your gorgeous face scrunched up in pleasure. mina doesn't mind the needy feeling though as the look on your face is worth it as she leaves because she knows when she comes back home you'll make her feel just as good as she made you feel.

eijiro works nights a lot of the time which means typically you get woken up by him. this means most nights you sleep with only a nightie on or a baggy pyjama shirt foregoing underwear or pyjama bottoms so eijiro doesn't have to worry about fiddling with any layers and pulling them down. the only exemptions about the clothes are when it's particularly cold that night.

after work he'll want to feel your soft body squish in between his fingers as he presses down on your malleable skin, groping you wherever he can get his hands on and pumping his girthy cock in his other hand a couple times, wanting to be buried in that sweet cunt that he loves so much so it's no surprise to you to be woken up to his grunts and gentle thrusts.

whenever you do wake up he feels guilty. he knows you need, and like your sleep and he never intended to wake you up so he strokes the sides of your body and softly tells you to go back to bed while kissing your temple.

sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but no matter the outcome of trying to get you to go back to sleep your body always has the same reaction, mewls and moans leaving your body involuntarily and you becoming more and more wet with each thrust that it's dripping down to your thick thighs.

the times when you don't fall back to sleep you don't move much, very much a pillow princess in those moments but that's what eijiro prefers. he likes looking after you and treating you like the princess you are. he enjoys doing all the work so when you do wake up all you can do is rub your eyes sleepily and moan louder while he tries to shush you because no doubt someone has to be up in a few hours for patrol.

"p-please," you whine but you don't know what you're begging for. eijiro knows though as he pushes the remaining inches of his cock inside of you, you both hiss, and he slowly and deeply starts moving in you. you grab hold of his muscular forearms and whine about the pleasurable stretch.

you turn your head to the side so your neck is bare. he knows what you want more than your tired words can mumble out so he turns your neck further to the side than you did to keep you still and bites down, not hard enough to cause serious pain and break your skin but enough to hurt slightly and cause you to gasp, your mind momentarily going blank and your hips to jerk up.

before you started sleeping with eijiro you didn't know you liked the sensation of getting bitten so much until he bit you to keep himself quiet while at a very lively party. normally he wouldn't mind people hearing how good he makes you feel and vise versa but there was a minority of people at that party who were all trying to make a new hero commission and he didn't want to to draw attention to you or him with those people, knowing what the last commission did. even though you are just a civilian he wants to make sure they stay well away from you but still that wasn't enough to drag you into an empty room and fuck you until you couldn't stand after seeing how beautiful you looked that night.

ever since then biting became involved in your sex life. eijiro knew he liked biting people before you, he enjoys the surprised gasps and how bodies move but with you it's completely different, it's on a whole new level with how plump your body is, it's like heaven. no matter where he bites you there's always some part he can sink his teeth into making your body beautifully buck up uncontrollably. the whole experience and sensation making him groan and the noises you always make in bed are like no over- ethereal, just like the rest of you.

when he hears the slapping sound of your two bodies making contact get louder and louder and sees the creamy ring left over from each thrust he has to hold onto you tighter, gripping hold of your love handles, enough to leave bruises, and looking up at the ceiling not wanting to cum yet. he knows as soon as he looks down at your cute face or perfect body he'll immediately orgasm so to try and make himself last longer he'll look up.

that on top of the quicker pace and him touching your clit, just the way you like it, makes you come. you clench around him and moan words incomprehensibly causing him to come too as he feels you get tighter around him.

"gonna clean you up in a second baby just let me stay inside you for awhile." at this point you're both falling asleep, he wraps his muscular arms around you tighter and manhandles your chubby body so you're laying on top of him, your arm on his chest and your face in his neck, the whole time making sure his dick doesn't accidentally slip out of you. even though you're semi conscious you know that you're going to be sleeping like this all night, both of you are too tired to move, with your last moments of consciousness being your slow blinks that you use to gaze up at eijiro admiring how handsome he is, you like when his hair is down after showering because without it being styled to be spiky you can see his roots coming through, red mixing with his natural black, even now when he's half asleep and ready for bed he looks just as handsome as he does at any fancy hero event he attends. "you feel too good to get up and leave and anyway i've got to plug you full, breed you properly to make sure it sticks." he mumbles against your forehead half asleep, drifting off only a minute or so after.

out of everyone denki is the one to touch you the most, if no one else is kissing you he's taking the opportunity to kiss you and hold you all over. he's the most emotional and vulnerable when it comes to sex too. he feels safe around you, to let his carefree persona down and to be sensitive and vulnerable, just staying fully in the moment with you.

the first time you slept together, you kissed his chest all the way to his hips making his hips buck up. he had wanted you so bad for so long and now he finally had you.

originally, you had stroked his cock for the first time and you heard a string of moans and it immediately turned you on more than you already were. as he got closer to his release he said breathy, "please don't stop, this will probably be the only chance i ever get to touch you." it had shocked you not realising that he felt that way but you didn't stop, doing what you were told, and knowing you were going to talk to him after.

not long after, he came and you threw your arms around him, arms wrapped around his neck and clinging onto him. he was still catching his breath, "do you really think this was a one time thing denki? i told you all before that i want to do this." he blushed and squished your cheeks, a habit he had picked up on doing recently at the time, you swat his hands away and giggle, denki smiles.

denki is also the most possessive which surprised you, if you thought anyone would be possessive your guess would be katsuki but it's really denki. he gets jealous when you spend more time with the others than you do with him and will want your attention. it's even more noticeable when it comes to other people who aren't in the bakusquad.

if you ever smile too cheerfully at someone, laugh too loudly at someone's jokes or if someone flirts with you he gets extremely jealous, you never flirt back though, you have everything you need and sometimes you don't even realise they were flirting in the first place.

at times like that denki is the most vulnerable. as soon as you both get home he's kissing you tenderly and holding you like fragile treasured glass in his arms. most of the time he takes you to the bedroom and lays you on the bed but this time he pushes your head down gently and you fall to you knees carefully. "do you need a cushion babe?"

your heart warms at how considerate he is. you look up at him and shake your head, "i'm okay," you smile up at him and you don't miss the way his cheeks are dusted pink. unzipping his jeans and pulling them down, along with his boxers that already are wet with precum leaking from his cock, you kiss his thigh and stare at his .

denki holds onto your head as you part your lips and open your mouth, taking him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and grab a hold of his thighs. he keeps his hips still no matter how much he wants to rut inside your wonderful wet and warm mouth. when his hips do occasionally buck it makes you gag before he corrects himself and pushes back against the wall trying to control himself not to pound up into you, he wants you to control the pace. the moans that he makes as you take him further only spur you on as your pace gets quicker and your nose presses against his lean stomach momentarily before having to leave and gasp for air. denki may not be as thick as eijiro or as long as hanta but he's still big, more than people would assume, he's bigger than average (only if slightly.) denki's arm rests of his head while he takes deep breaths.

"fuck babe that was-" you cut him off as you take him in your mouth again and wrap your lips around him and you hollow your cheeks once again. his moans and groans become more frequent and you can tell that he's about to come.

his grip get's tighter while resting on your head and his groans get deeper. "gonna come, you swallow alright babe." you hum in confirmation, "shit, shit, shit," his eyebrows pinch together and his hot cum sprays in ropes at the back of your throat and you mourn not being able to properly fully taste him. denki lifts you up by your elbows and when you come face-to-face you kiss his cheek, he's not satisfied with that though and he passionately makes out with you not caring that he just came in your mouth and is holding onto your plush waist while grinning against your lips. "bedroom." he whispers in your ear making you shudder at the demanding tone he used, not often does he use it but whenever he does... well it makes your whole body tingle.

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rafesangelita · 3 months ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 HONEYMOON

a series by rafesangelita ©

‘honeymoon’ is a series based on the songs off of lana del rey’s ‘honeymoon’ album. all fics released in this series can be read as standalones since none of them correlate with one another. each fic has a line from each song in which it’s titled from. read each ‘warnings’ tab accordingly <3

all rights reserved. i do not allow any of my work to be copied, translated, or reposted on any third party site such as wattpad and/or ao3. violating this will result in you being blocked and restricted from my blog, along with a plagiarism submission.

this is a reuploaded series masterlist.

₊˚⊹♡ HONEYMOON

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: ❝but you don’t go cause truly there’s nobody for you but me.❞ — not only did rafe catch you in a lie, he also saw jj making moves on you, and you allowing it to happen.

₊˚⊹♡ MUSIC TO WATCH BOYS TO

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

SUMMARY: ❝i like you a lot, putting on my music while i’m watching the boys.❞ — there’s no denying the attraction you and rafe share when you two meet each other. the only problem? he does business with barry, your older brother.

₊˚⊹♡ TERRENCE LOVES YOU

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SUMMARY: ❝i lost myself and i lost you too.❞ — after a heated exchange, you leave rafe at the height of his addiction. fast forward two years later, and you have everything rafe couldn’t give you.

₊˚⊹♡ GOD KNOWS I TRIED

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

SUMMARY: ❝i feel free when i see no one, and nobody knows my name.❞ — you and rafe sneak away from an event neither of you want to be at..

₊˚⊹♡ HIGH BY THE BEACH

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

SUMMARY: ❝all i wanna do is get high by the beach.❞ — you and rafe make a small trip to your favorite smoke spot.

₊˚⊹♡ FREAK | FREAK PT.2

WORD COUNT: 3.2k | 3.0k

SUMMARY: ❝screw your anonymity, loving me is all you need to feel like i do.❞ — rafe cameron is your top donator, having been tuning into your live streams for several months now. one night of texting and spilling too much details has you and rafe running into each other at a party.

₊˚⊹♡ ART DECO

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

SUMMARY: ❝you’re so art deco, out on the floor. shining like gun metal, cold and unsure.❞ — your attempt to cut things off with rafe only fuels him to come back with a vengeance.

₊˚⊹♡ RELIGION

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: ❝when i’m down on my knees, you’re how i pray.❞ — you show rafe how much you appreciate all the hard work he’s been doing.

₊˚⊹♡ SALVATORE

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY: ❝the summer’s hot, and i’ve been waiting for you all this time.❞ — rafe finally comes back home from his two-month long family vacation, surprising you in the middle of the night.

₊˚⊹♡ THE BLACKEST DAY

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: ❝i got you where i want you, you’re deader than ever, and falling for forever.❞ — a deal gone wrong leads to you and rafe being stuck in the same room together.

₊˚⊹♡ 24

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SUMMARY: ❝there’s only 24 hours in a day, and half of those you lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage.❞ — when you accidentally witness rafe commit a murder, he’s willing to do everything he has to do in order to make sure there’s no loose ends. even if that means tracking you down and killing you himself.

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knavesflames · 3 months ago

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𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓍 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒸𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑜

hello friends, I have arrived. As per the poll, shower sex was first. I had trouble figuring out how to do this but settled on this. I hope you enjoy! (it’s supposed to snow on monday, god save me) (i always end my fics with humour why)

Word count: 2.1k

Contents: shower, tired arlecchino, fingering, it’s soft they love each other fr

nsft utc!

Arlecchino’s favourite thing to do after a long day of dealing with incompetent Fatui grunts is come home and see you. You greet her the same way each time, greeting her with a soft hum, waiting for her to appear in your vision. She appreciates that you give her space to at least take her blazer off. She does it hastily, the garment often being left on the floor by the doormat to be picked up by her on the way to bed later that night. You always seem to be cooking when she comes home, something you have learned to time perfectly— you know she gets hungry when she comes home, and you know she’ll only forget to eat. Each time she moves to the kitchen to wrap her arms around you, a soft sigh leaves her lips, her own subtle way of smelling what she can only describe as pure domesticity.

Arlecchino’s job requires her to be many things. Ruthless, unfeeling, violent, even. When her hands graze your waist, you feel none of that. The hands belong to a woman full of love, even if she cannot express it. You do things for her that no other person would. When you share a meal, for example, you leave any spices out of it (to her satisfaction, much to your own dismay), until the end, after you’ve plated whatever food it is and placed it on the table. It takes more time, but the small flicker of gratitude in her eyes when she sees the colour difference, or smells the difference of the two dishes, warms your heart.

Your eyes inspect her as she eats. Expressionless as she is, she isn’t very good at hiding her feelings. Not with you, anyway. “What’s the matter?” Your quiet voice comes out as a sort of hum as you glance up at her. You watch her hand slows, the metal of the fork reflecting the ceiling light.

“I am tired. Clearly, nobody in this organisation can do their jobs. I do not understand how we are to revive the—“ She cuts herself off before she says anything else. You know well enough that she doesn’t talk about work at home. You do not ask her to. You watch as her hand comes up to release her hair from her signature ponytail, a smile making its way to your face when her snowy strands cascade down her shoulders, disappearing behind her back. When her hair is down, she looks almost soft. Kind. You know, deep down, buried under the facade of strictness (that you beg her to stop applying to herself— she never listens), she is a woman full of love. You know that much because even during nights where her nails are biting into the skin of your thighs, or your hips, or even on occasion, your neck as she draws sound after sound out of you, the other hand is always caressing some part of you, her eyes always full of tenderness.

You remember one of the first times you had sex with her— it was the first time you had attended one of those stupid Fatui balls with her. You had let her pick out the outfit herself, and she enjoyed herself thoroughly. You had barely gotten into your apartment before she had picked you up and laid you softly on the bed sheets, grumbling about how you never made your bed. You were still figuring each other out— what worked, and what didn’t. Midway through, when you weren’t thinking, you whispered. “Degrade me.” Your eyes moved to look into her own, only to be met with an immediate frown. “I will not. How could I ever say such things about you?” You tried to explain, perhaps wondering if she was unaware of what it truly was. She did know, she couldn’t fathom saying a bad word to you, even in such a situation. You learned then how soft she truly was.

“A shower would help,” you muse through a mouthful of the food. “Warm water is good for tense muscles. You’re tense, you can barely keep your shoulders relaxed.” Her eyes move towards the food in front of her. For some reason, she isn’t too hungry. Work has stressed her incredibly, to the point her sentences are short and curt. Her face is apologetic after, you know she means well. You allow it. “I can wash your hair, I know you like that.” After deliberation, she lets out a small hum, a yes.

Once your stomachs are full, you move to place them in the sink, vowing to yourself that you’ll clean them later (you’ll forget). Taking her by her blackened hand, you gently, but insistently drag her towards the bathroom. Her footsteps are heavy on the floor as she reluctantly follows along. Something has obviously happened at work, you think, because she is just so stressed. You plan to make sure the water at least relaxes her muscles.

Once the water is warm enough and both of you have undressed in quiet silence (she has her showers so hot you can’t touch the water. You don’t understand how she can withstand such heat), you guide her into the shower, your touch as gentle as it’s always been. You listen to the barely audible sigh that escapes her when she feels the water touch her skin. “Good?” You murmur softly, smiling when you hear her hum in appreciation, her shoulders slowly slumping. You know Arlecchino well, it seems. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, the feeling is different than it usually is— the water is warm, her hand is somehow even warmer. In turn, your hand does the same, cupping her cheek with such softness it seems you’re barely touching her.

“I haven’t seen you like this in so long,” her voice is as smooth as it usually is, the same velvety tone despite the exhaustion. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are. Almost.” A chuckle leaves your throat at the wry smile that appears on her face. “You are stunning, but you must take better care of yourself, Peruere.” Your gentle chiding causes a huff to escape from her, a dismissal, you know that much. You open your mouth to chide her once more, but her lips swallow your words before you can even form a syllable. It’s a soft kiss, softer than the usual kisses she gives you. When you part, you can’t help but gasp and choke slightly at the water dripping onto your face, and into your mouth.

“Did you just swallow some?” She asks, a small chuckle rising in her throat. A hand comes up to gently shove her before you giggle, a sound that also is quickly drowned out by her lips. Her kiss is different this time, with more fervour and need in it. You let both of your hands wander until the meet and rest on the nape of her neck, fingers gently scratching at the wet hair strands. Arlecchino’s own hands gently guide you towards the wall, giving you respite against the relentless water stream. The air is thick with heat and steam, the mirrors fogged, but it seems neither of you are paying any attention to it. Her hands wander, tracing every part of your body she can reach. When you break for air, her lips take purchase on the skin of your neck, kissing and sucking gently marks onto it, marks you know will stay for a few days. You like it.

“You’re always so good to me,” she mumbles, nails slightly dragging against your skin. It feels good in a way you can’t explain. “Let me take care of you, hm?” You can’t see her face, but you can picture it, and the thought alone has you nodding breathlessly. Prying your legs gently apart, she lets out a breath against your neck, her voice changing to one that always has you melting.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it? You must be so desperate.” It’s a question that doesn’t need answering. You’re very well aware that you’ve spent nights trying— and failing, to recreate what she does to you. She’s aware because despite the water that wets your skin, you’re the wettest you’ve ever been when her middle finger glides across your folds, eliciting a small gasp from you. She hums, pleased at the sight of her finger glistening (before it is quickly washed away by the water) when she pulls it back. A whine practically rips from your throat when you feel her absence, and you begin to wonder how you’ve managed to become so desperate within minutes. On a usual day, she’d tease you until you begged for it, but all she wants is to see your face when you reach the peak of your orgasm. It’s the one thing she thinks about when she’s on her missions, or when she's sat at the office— the way you cry her name, her real name, the way you tremble. The thought causes her to make a sound you swear she’s never made before, a whimper.

Her finger moves back to where it was, caressing and moving through each fold until she’s circling your entrance. You’re grateful she clips her nails (she’d rip them off if you told her to). Arlecchino’s red crosses meet your own eyes, and her eyebrows twitch in question. When you nod in response, your hips moving slightly, the corners of her lips twitch slightly in a smile as she presses her finger in, then another. The noise that comes from you can only be described as unholy, and it drives Arlecchino on further. She lets you get used to the sensation before she curls her fingers up into the same spot you happen to miss every time you do it yourself. Your eyes fly open and your lips part, but she speaks before you can make noise.

“Shh, be quiet. The shower doesn’t muffle everything.” You know nobody will hear anyway, but she’s always liked the idea of you trying to stay as quiet as possible, the look on your face every single time a louder moan escapes you. Perhaps it’s some sort of fantasy she has, to get caught, or at the very least, the prospect of being caught. You’re ripped out of your thoughts when Arlecchino curls her fingers again, finding a rhythm that has you bucking your hips. She leans down, mouth attaching to one of your nipples, and she practically groans herself. The water has formed droplets on your skin, and she thinks it makes you look even more appealing. There seems to be something about you, in the shower, whispering her name that seems to get her. She swears she could practically orgasm herself just at the sight of you.

“Peruere, please,” comes the mewl from you, words mixed with shaking breath. She (and you, for that matter) feels you clenching around her, and it only drives her to continue. A hand comes to rest in the soaked strands of her hair, tugging gently, and she knows it’s a sign that you’re close. Again, she chuckles, releasing your chest and moving her lips back to your own. Her tongue touches your bottom lip, and when you, somehow, in your pleasure clouded mind, deepen the kiss, her thumb finds your clit. The pressure is light, and it takes only a couple of circular movements before your hand in her hair tightens, your voice rising to a soft cry as you finally get the orgasm you’ve been chasing (alone or not) for such a long time. Her movements continue until your gasping turns to heavy breathing, and your eyes manage to focus on her again. Only then does Arlecchino pull out her fingers, holding them up to show you, like she always does. She knows it embarrasses you, she can tell by the way you avert your gaze. And as expected, you practically choke on your own saliva when she doesn’t hesitate in cleaning her fingers. Not by running them under the water, but letting her tongue flicking out of her mouth to lap up the evidence of your pleasure.

“What are you— you can’t do that.” You sound practically horrified at the notion (like you haven’t spent nights with her fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet, or to do exactly what she’s doing now. You enjoy those. It isn’t so bad when you’re tasting yourself, for some reason). Eventually, when she sees your wide eyes, she relents, moving to run them under the water.

The water isn’t as hot anymore, having dulled to a lukewarm temperature. “The water bill will be high this month, I assume.” Arlecchino says it with such nonchalance that you can’t help but snort. Biting your lip, you join her in her joking. “I didn’t wash my hair. Warm it back up. I know you can.”

531 notes · View notes

genshinluvr · 5 months ago

Text

The Traveling Artist's Ailment

Pairings: Zhongli x fem!reader x Neuvillette

Summary: As a renowned traveling artist from Mondstadt, you travel the world to paint and draw various things. Your lovers, Zhongli and Neuvillette, are supportive of your dreams of becoming a traveling artist. However, during one of your work trips to Sumeru, you stumble across a sickly floating anemo fungus (well, technically, it came to you). You nursed the floating anemo fungus back to health, only to fall ill yourself.

Note: One of my followers and close friends commissioned this fanfic! To read her commissioned version, I will link it at the very end of this fanfic. This is the longest fanfic I have typed out ever since I came out of my hiatus. I hope my friend likes her commission (she has read most of it so far but hasn't read the newer parts I have added). Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔 However, since this is a commissioned fic, there will be some things that trace back to the commissioner— there will be she/her/hers pronouns used throughout this fic when referring to the reader.

Word Count: 6.8k

Sumeru, the nation ruled by the God of Wisdom. The scenery is beautiful— everywhere you look is a land of luscious greenery. You stand in front of the statue of the seven in the Avidya Forest, admiring the view before you. As a traveling artist, you have the privilege of witnessing the beautiful scenery of every nation in Teyvat.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

When you first began your career as a renowned traveling artist, you started in your home nation—the beautiful nation ruled by the Anemo Archon Barbatos. Before becoming a traveling artist, you weren’t satisfied with your career. And as cheesy as it sounds, you wanted to find your purpose, and the only thing that kept you going was your love for drawing and traveling.

“You’re incredibly talented. Have you thought of becoming a traveling artist?” Albedo asked, analyzing the canvas while stroking his chin.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, mimicking Albedo’s actions. “I’ll have to be honest with you, Albedo. I have not! And even if I did, I don’t think a certain someone would approve of my ambitions.”

Albedo raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you implying that your boyfriends will not approve of your goals?”

Your face becomes hot at the mention of your, ahem, “boyfriends.” You wouldn’t say that you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette were dating per se, but you wouldn’t say that you three weren’t seeing each other romantically. You would often travel to Liyue and Fontaine to visit the men on separate occasions. Sometimes, when they had the chance, Zhongli and Neuvillette would visit Mondstadt to spend time with you. There were lingering touches and longing stares thrown around, but anything above that had yet to happen. Wait, what was Albedo saying again? Oh, right!

You cleared your throat, looking back at the canvas. “It’s not like they’ll disapprove of my choice of wanting to become a traveling artist. They worry, Albedo. And can you blame them?” You muttered, finishing up your painting of the Stormterror’s Lair.

The day you sat down with Neuvillette and Zhongli to talk about your decision to become a traveling artist, you three were sitting outside Good Hunter in Mondstadt. You sat between the two men, eating your food. Children were laughing and running around the area while the adults were going on with their day, enjoying the simple life in Mondstadt.

“Dear, are you alright? You seem distracted,” Neuvillette said, breaking you out of your daydream.

You didn’t realize you were poking at your Sticky Honey Roast until Neuvillette brought you out of your thoughts. You nodded, giving Neuvillette a reassuring smile before proceeding to eat your lunch. While you weren’t looking, Neuvillette and Zhongli looked at one another, not saying a word.

Zhongli cleared his throat, placing his hand over yours. “Are you sure you’re alright? If there’s anything you want to talk about with us, you’re always welcome to,” Zhongli murmured, gazing at you with his warm amber eyes.

You placed your fork on the plate and took a deep breath. “I am thinking of becoming a traveling artist. What do you two think?” You looked at Neuvillette and Zhongli anxiously, worried they were going to discourage you from pursuing such a career.

Zhongli’s eyes lit up, the corners of his lips curving up. “Oh, I think that would be a lovely idea. I believe in doing things you love, and you are an incredibly talented artist.” Zhongli took a sip of his drink. I don’t see why not.”

After hearing Zhongli’s approval, your eyes lit up with excitement and hope. You turned to Neuvillette only to see the hesitation on his face. Neuvillette didn’t seem to agree with Zhongli. Neuvillette had always encouraged you to do what you love, but with this new career path, the Iudex was rather hesitant about the idea.

You blinked, reaching for Neuvillette’s hand, and gently squeezed it. “Neuvillette, are you alright?”

Neuvillette lets out a long exhale before meeting your gaze, smiling weakly. “[Y/N], dear, as much as I would love to see you pursue your dreams of becoming a traveling artist…” Neuvillette trails off, sighing again, “I can’t help but worry about your safety and the potential dangers of you getting into while you’re traveling alone.”

You couldn’t help but feel offended but also giddy over the fact that the oh-so-powerful Iudex of Fontaine worrying over little ole you. You couldn’t help but giggle, tucking your hair behind your ears while blushing madly. Neuvillette gazed at you, confused. You could hear Zhongli chuckling behind you while proceeding to finish his lunch.

You cleared your throat and placed both hands over Neuvillette’s. “Neuvi, I understand where you’re coming from, and,” you paused to squeal, reaching up to pinch his cheeks, “I would be much happier as a traveling artist than my current career path. Not only do I get to travel the world, but that means I can visit you and Zhongli more often!”

Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you getting the chance to visit Fontaine and Liyue more often and longer than in the past. Right as you were about to take a bite of the Sticky Honey Roast, a thin arm wrapped around your shoulders startled you and caused you to drop the metal fork. Zhongli and Neuvillette’s heads snapped in your direction to see the familiar bumbling drunkard draped over you.

Zhongli scoffed, his nose wrinkled with disgust after catching a whiff of alcohol from the Anemo Archon. “Venti, please refrain from touching [Y/N] without her consent,” Zhongli said, narrowing his eyes at the bard.

Venti giggled and released you. “Hey, blockhead— I mean Zhongli and…” Venti froze when his eyes locked with Neuvillette. “O-Oh! It’s you!” Venti squeaked.

Neuvillette smiled at Venti before sipping water from his chalice and placing it on the table. “Greetings, Venti. I see that you are acquaintances with my beloved [Y/N].”

Zhongli furrowed his eyebrows at Neuvillette’s comment and cleared his throat, “Our beloved [Y/N]. What am I? Chopped liver?” Zhongli rolled his eyes.

Neuvillette ignored Zhongli’s comment, proceeding to stare down the Anemo Archon. Venti cleared his throat before walking around the table to face the three of you. The bard propped his hands on his hips. You, Neuvillette, and Zhongli stared back at Venti, unsure what he had in mind.

Venti sniffed dramatically, wiping away nonexistent tears with his index finger. “Oh, [Y/N]! Hearing your departure from Mondstadt breaks my heart. But hearing your love for the arts and wanting to share your exquisite talents with the world is inspiring!” Venti said dramatically, his lyre materializing in his hands, and he started to strum the instrument. “I would like to dedicate this song to you~!” Venti winked at you.

While Venti was serenading the three of you, Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you traveling the world and sharing your talent with people from every nation on Teyvat.

Neuvillette turned to you, whispering into your ears, “If that is what you wish to pursue, then I shall not intervene with your desires. As long as you are safe and happy, that is all that matters to me.”

Your eyes lit up once again. “Really!?” You squeaked, gazing at Neuvillette with stars in your eyes.

Neuvillette’s cheeks slowly turned pink the longer you stared at him with awe and happiness. The Iudex cleared his throat, nodding. You squealed and threw yourself at your beloved Neuvillette, arms wrapped around his shoulders while pressing your cheek against his. Zhongli chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to listen to Venti sing, admiring you and Neuvillette from his seat.

You turned to Zhongli and beckoned him over. Zhongli hesitated for a moment, only to give in when you gave him puppy-dog eyes. Who could say no to that sweet face of yours? Zhongli stood from his seat and walked over to where you and Neuvillette were sitting before leaning over to wrap his arms around you and Neuvillette. Zhongli made sure to kiss the side of your head, ignoring the stares shot in your direction.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

“Sumeru is so beautiful,” You whisper, setting down your art supplies. You have been traveling for a few months now, and you’re loving every bit of it! You met so many nice people, and many people have commissioned you to paint certain landscapes from other regions! Your being in Sumeru is for your customer’s commission, and you cannot wait for them to receive the painting soon.

Usually, you would travel to your customer to personally deliver their commission. However, this time is different because your customer will be picking up their commission in Sumeru. After all, according to them, they will be on a work trip to Sumeru in a few weeks. When it comes to your paintings, it doesn’t take you long to complete them. You work quite fast on your paintings, and that is what your customers love about working with you— you get things done in a timely manner, or you complete the commission way before the deadline.

You scan your surroundings, trying to find the perfect image to capture onto your canvas. The customer was quite vague with what they wanted you to paint. The only instruction that was given to you was to paint a scenery in Sumeru. Did you ask them to clarify for you? Yes, you did! However, this person didn’t have an idea in mind.

“You have free range, Miss Renowned Artist! I would like for it to be a surprise! Any scenery will do as long as it’s in Sumeru!” The customer said, smiling smugly as if they were doing you a huge favor.

You exhale and scratch your head. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” You mutter.

Sumeru has a lot to offer, and it is hard for an artist like yourself to capture a specific landscape onto one canvas. You see, you want to capture the current landscape before you, but at the same time, you also want to capture the breathtaking deserts of Sumeru. You pull out a single Mora from your bag, choosing to do heads or tails to make the decision for you. Easy, right? You’re indecisive, so the Mora will pick what you paint for your customer! Before flipping the Mora, you make sure to mark one side of the Mora with white paint because both sides have the same engraving.

The side with white paint will be the desert (heads), while the side without paint will be the current luscious green landscape before you (tails).

You place the Mora between your thumb and index finger with the side with white paint facing upward. Using your thumb, you flick the Mora in the air before catching it and placing it on the back of your other hand without revealing the results. When you move your hand, you see the decision the Mora has made.

The side of the Mora facing upward isn’t marked with white paint; therefore, you will be painting the luscious green landscape! You wipe the white paint off the other side of the Mora before tossing it back into your bag. You pull out the canvas and place it on the easel before digging into your bag for your palette, paints, and brushes.

Once you have set up your materials, you start sketching out the landscape with a pencil. You hum softly, engrossed in your work, as you listen to the birds sing around you. It’s relatively cloudy today in Sumeru; it’s not too hot or too cold, and the weather is just right. You peek from your canvas to double-check to make sure everything is in the correct spot, and nothing is missing.

After an hour passes by, your sketch of the landscape is completed, and you can now start painting the beautiful scenery after your lunch break. In the medium-sized container, you pack rice with Honey Char Siu on top, and in the smaller container, it contains seven rainbow macarons.

Every time when you go on your trip, you make sure to pack food that reminds you of your beloveds on the first day of your arrival to a new nation. From then on, you will eat food from the nation you’re currently visiting. There’s no easy way to contact Zhongli and Neuvillette while you’re traveling the world, so the only way for you to feel connected to the two men is through food that you pack for yourself!

Being a traveling artist does get lonely from time to time. You have no one to talk to aside from locals in that region, but it’s nice to have some alone time. You enjoy the peace and quiet, but you love being able to interact with those around you. Your wanderlust drives you insane. What can you do about it? You choose to become a traveling artist to be able to do what you love: traveling and showing the world your amazing art skills.

“Your gift needs to be shared with the world, [Y/N]. I’m baffled that you’re not a renowned artist yet. If you want a head start in your career, you can always let me know, and I will gladly help you make your dreams come true.” Zhongli’s words echo in your head as you happily munch on your lunch.

You couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of how incredibly supportive both Zhongli and Neuvillette are. Growing up, you didn’t have much of a support system in your life, but as you grew older, you ended up meeting amazing people who loved and supported you. You’re grateful for everyone in your life, and you will make them proud as you continue to work hard as a traveling artist.

After finishing your lunch, you immediately start on your customer’s commission. You mix a few paints to create a specific color for the sky as the sun is peeking from the cloudy skies. Each brush stroke brings the canvas to life, almost as if you used a Kamera instead of paints to create the masterpiece before you.

Just as you’re a little over halfway done with the painting, you hear something strange coming from behind you. You freeze in your spot, hoping that it’s not a vicious creature behind you, planning on making you its dinner. You slowly turn your head to see something you weren’t expecting. The small creature looks sickly, struggling to stay afloat, only to tumble to the ground. You can’t help but pity the poor thing.

You continue to watch the floating (well, not anymore) anemo fungus waddle and stumble in your direction. Judging by its appearance, it’s most likely ill. You place your paintbrush and palette on the ground before cautiously walking towards the sickly floating anemo fungus. You kneel and hold your hands out, catching the anemo fungus before it can fall on its face.

You cradle it in your arms and wince when it lets out a small sneeze. Well, small is an understatement. When the anemo fungus sneezed, it let out a strong gust of wind, causing the items around you to rattle in their spot. You chuckle and take your apron off, laying it on the rock nearby.

The floating anemo fungus shivers in your arms, sniffling here and there, and its eyes are glazed over. You’re unsure whether there is a doctor that specializes in caring for mystical beasts such as this anemo fungus. You glance at your unfinished painting, unsure whether you should temporarily abandon your painting to care for the sick floating anemo fungus or proceed as usual before caring for the creature.

“Hold on, little guy. Let me finish this painting, and then I’ll get you some help,” you coo to the floating anemo fungus.

You walk to where your apron lies and place the floating anemo fungus on the rock before draping it with your jacket. It won’t do much, but it will provide some warmth for the poor creature. You pick up your paintbrush and palette, continuing where you left off with the customer’s commission.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A few days into your trip to Sumeru as a traveling artist, you end up renting out a quaint home in Gandharva Ville close to your painting site. Initially, you did plan on staying in Sumeru City during your stay, but due to some unforeseeable circumstances, you decided to remain in Gandharva Ville for the remainder of your trip.

Your customer’s commission is about ninety-eight percent completed, and since you’re almost done with the painting, you decide to take a few days off to nurse the floating anemo fungus back to health.

Needless to say, caring for a sick fungus is more complicated than you expected it to be. You’re never sure what to feed the fungus, aside from giving it plenty of water to drink. Are Liyuen dishes too spicy? Would Fontainian food be too bland for it? What about Sumeru dishes? There are many times when you question your sanity because you don’t have someone to consult about this issue. You were on your own.

Did you consult specialists or scientists about this issue? No, you did not because they would not take you seriously because why would you care about a creature that wreaks havoc on civilization if it gets the chance?

After the fifth day of being in Sumeru (and nursing the poor floating anemo fungus back to health), you wake up feeling horrendous. Your head is pounding, one nostril is stuffed while the other is runny, your entire body feels incredibly hot, and your throat feels swollen. Dear Barbatos, is it possible that the floating anemo fungus passed its sickness onto you? Despite feeling like a mitachurl has whacked you with its wooden shield, you continue to push on and finish the commission. After all, you do have to meet with your customer in Sumeru City in a few hours.

Standing at the site, you put the finishing touches on the painting while trying to act like you’re fine and healthy. The floating anemo fungus hangs out beside you, happily floating while looking as healthy as ever.

“And we’re done!” You sigh in relief, clearing your throat and putting your paintbrush on the palette.

You take a step back and admire your now-completed artwork. The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy and twirls around. You gently pet the creature, watching it nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Just when you assumed you were going to spend time in Sumeru alone, a (formerly) sickly little fungus ended up keeping you company.

You smile and pet the floating anemo fungus, “Thank you for keeping me company, little guy.”

The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy, nuzzling its face against yours as if it’s thanking you for nursing it back to health. As much as you’re hesitant to release the floating anemo fungus back into the wild, you have no other choice but to do so. You watch the floating anemo fungus slowly disappear off into the wild, your heart feeling heavy after realizing that you’re now alone.

You muster up the strength and start packing your things to return to the house you rented. At least you finally completed the commission and can relax in Sumeru before going to your next destination. However, you’re not sure when you can set off on your next journey due to your sickness.

After dropping your items off at your temporary home, you set off to Sumeru City to meet with your customer. The city is bustling, and the smell of delicious Sumeru dishes wafts in the air, making your stomach rumble with hunger.

A voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Ah! Miss Renowned Artist!”

You turn to see your customer waltzing towards you with guests behind them— their business partners, you presume? The customer’s eyes light up with excitement upon laying their eyes on the large canvas in your hands.

“You have completed my commission, I see!” The customer states, standing before you with an expectant gaze.

You smile, nodding. “Yes! I have completed your commission! Please let me know your thoughts on it!” You say, turning the canvas around for the customer to see.

The customer, their business partners, and citizens of Sumeru passing by gasped in awe. The painting looked beautiful and breathtaking—not only breathtaking but very vivid. People around you started whispering and pointing at the painting. Some even pulled their Cameras out to snap a picture of you and the painting.

The customer places their right hand over their heart while covering their mouth with the other, “Miss [Y/N], this art piece is absolutely beautiful! You really outdone yourself!” The customer praises, eyes gleaming with joy. “Is it too soon to commission you again?” The customer giggles.

The people around you two chuckle as they continue to admire the painting in the customer’s hand. After a few minutes of admiring the painting, the customer pays you a handsome amount of Mora before walking off with their business partners. You place the bag of Mora in your travel-sized bag before walking to the nearest bench in Sumeru City, sighing. Archons above, you feel so exhausted, and you have a long way back to your rented house on the outskirts of the city. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this.

“[Y/N]! Is that you!?” A high-pitched voice pulls you out of your inner turmoil.

You look up to see Aether and Paimon approach you. The white-haired floating girl waves her hands at you ecstatically while barreling in your direction. Before she can smack you in the face with her entire body, Aether quickly grabs her by her clothes and holds her back— Paimon squirms in Aether’s hands, huffing and protesting.

Aether shakes his head, smiling at you apologetically. “Sorry, [Y/N]. Paimon’s just excited to see you again after not seeing you in months.”

You smile at Aether and Paimon, standing up from the bench while dusting your clothes off. “There’s no need to apologize, Aether! I’m happy to see you both again!” You say, ignoring the shivers going down your spine.

Aether releases Paimon, and she immediately hugs your face, resting her cheek on your head while petting your hair happily. “It’s good to see you again, [Y/N]! How’s the life of being a traveling artist?”

You laugh and pat the top of her head, watching Aether pull Paimon off you with another apologetic smile. “It’s great! I get to do what I love: travel the world, paint, and draw. I get to visit Liyue and Fontaine much longer compared to when I was still working at my previous job.”

You start to recount your traveling experiences as a traveling artist to Aether and Paimon. You tell them about your commissions, answer their questions regarding your career as a traveling artist, and more. While the three of you are catching up, a huge wave of dizziness hits you like a mitachurl. You clutch your head and close your eyes, your body breaking into cold sweat as you shiver under the warm sunlight. Aether places his hand on your shoulders, steadying you.

Paimon hovers in front of you, looking at you worriedly. “Are you okay, [Y/N]? Paimon’s worried about you.”

You crack your eyes open and smile at her. “I’m not feeling well, actually,” you reply. You tell Aether and Paimon the gist of what caused you to fall ill ever since you step foot into Sumeru: a sickly floating anemo fungus coming to you for help, you putting your customer’s commission to the side to nurse the fungus back to health, and here you are. Sick. The sickness isn’t anything deadly (you hope), but you’re in desperate need of rest, or else you will collapse, and the trip to Sumeru will last longer than you planned.

Paimon tugs on your shirt, ushering you to stand up. “We gotta take you back to your rented house! You need to rest!”

Aether wraps his arms around your waist and has you wrap your arm around his shoulders as he walks you out of Sumeru City. Your legs feel like jelly, making it nearly impossible for you to take more than twenty steps. Aether ends up giving you a piggyback ride back to the house you rented in Gandharva Ville, with Paimon occasionally making sure you’re still alive and breathing.

One minute, you’re on Aether’s back, being carried back to your rental house; the next, you find yourself lying on the bed with Paimon and Aether’s face hovering over yours. The two stare down at you worriedly, wondering what’s the next step.

Paimon snaps her fingers when an idea pops into her head. “We should contact Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette to inform them of their lover’s ailment!”

Before Aether can do that, you sit up and quickly grab Aether’s wrist, startling both outlanders. You shake your head, looking at them pleadingly. Neuvillette and Zhongli cannot see you like this! Sure, you never hide things from the two people you hold near and dear to your heart, but you don’t want them to worry about you! Besides, it’s not like you’re dying! What you have is most likely a minor cold and should pass within a few days. Right?

Aether lets out a shaky sigh, gently pushing you back to lie on the bed. “Okay, okay! I won’t tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about your sickness.”

You sigh in relief, feeling the tension leaving your body after hearing Aether’s promise not to tell Neuvillette and Zhongli about your situation. Despite never hiding anything from the two men you care deeply about, this is the only time you will hide something from them. Not because you don’t trust them but because you don’t want them to see this as an opportunity to pull you away from this career path. While they may not do that, you’re worried they’re going to try to coax you out of this career. Aether and Paimon exit the room after tucking you into bed; they close the door and trade looks.

“We are going to tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about this, right? We can’t hide this from them!” Paimon loudly whispers.

Aether runs his hands through his hair, shrugging. “I guess we’ll try to nurse [Y/N] back to health ourselves and see from there. If they don’t improve within two days, we’ll have to inform both of them about [Y/N]’s situation.”

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A day has passed, and there aren’t any signs that you are getting better. In fact, it seems like you have gotten worse than the day before. Your temperature is worse than before; you’re barely eating, barely awake, and sweating through your clothes, but your hands feel ice cold. Paimon flies to your bed and switches out the wet rag on your forehead with another cold, damp towel. You shudder in your sleep, sighing with contentment when the cool rag touches your scorching hot forehead.

“How is she doing?” Aether asks, peeking into the room.

Paimon shakes her head, her shoulders slumping. “If her illness persists, we’re going to have to take her to see a doctor.”

Thunder cracks outside, startling both Aether and Paimon. Aether peeks from behind the curtains to see rain pouring down outside. If it rained any harder, Sumeru might as well be underwater. Great. Even if Aether were to take you to the doctor, there’s no way he would be able to get you there without you getting soaked.

The rain will worsen your illness, and who knows what will happen? The thunder cracking in the distance and the pouring rain are loud enough to drown out Aether and Paimon’s racing thoughts, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sound of panicked knocks at the front door of the rental house.

Aether and Paimon freeze, looking over in your direction. You barely react to the sounds around you— too exhausted and ill to have the energy to react. Paimon nudges Aether towards the door, gesturing to Aether to check to see who’s at the door knocking like a madman. Aether puts on a brave face and marches toward the front door.

The knocking persists, and there seems to be another person assisting the person who knocked the first time. Great, more than one person to deal with! It’s not the person who rented the house out to you, is it? Archons, Aether sure hope it isn’t. Aether grabs the door handle and swings the door open to face the guests head-on.

Aether clears his throat, “Can I help you— Oh, Archons.” Aether feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

“Where is she?” Neuvillette demands, glaring down at Aether as raindrops pelt him.

Zhongli doesn’t look too pleased either, soaked to the bone. Aether gulps and takes a step back to let Zhongli and Neuvillette enter the rental house. How the hell did Neuvillette and Zhongli find this place? He and Paimon certainly didn’t inform the two refined men of your situation, so why are they here?

Aether closes the door after Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the house. Aether clears his throat, watching the two men wring their clothes, creating a puddle beneath their feet. Aside from the cracking thunder and raindrops viciously pitter-patter on the roof, all Aether can hear is his heart drumming in his ears.

“Aether? Who’s at the door?” Paimon calls out.

Aether, Neuvillette, and Zhongli turn to where Paimon’s voice comes from, only to see the white-haired girl floating out of a bedroom. Paimon shrieks upon laying her eyes on two draconic men standing at the entrance of the wooden house.

Zhongli sighs, brushing his wet bangs from his forehead and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a pleasure to see you two again under this unpleasant circumstance,” Zhongli says, giving Aether and Paimon a fake smile.

Paimon floats over to where the three men are standing and scratches the back of her head. Paimon doesn’t remember informing anyone of your situation, nor does she remember if Aether informed the two intimidating men anything regarding your ailment. The floating girl looks at Aether, only to see him shrug his shoulders in response to her questioning stare.

Neuvillette’s eyes scan the quaint house and clear his throat. “Apologies for showing up unannounced and uninvited. However, Deus Auri and I had a bad feeling, and we had to show up,” Neuvillette said, adjusting his cravat.

“That doesn’t explain how you two are able to find the house [Y/N] rented out in Gandharva Ville,” Aether states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zhongli and Neuvillette stare at Aether, not saying a word. The silence in the house is nearly unsettling but not as unsettling as the thunder continuously getting louder. Aether and Paimon are well aware that any form of precipitation ties to the Iudex’s emotions. The traveling duo isn’t sure if they should lead the two draconic men to where you’re sleeping or try to lie to the men that they got the wrong house and that you left for Natlan yesterday.

The deafening silence is broken by the sound of glass shattering in the next room. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment before running towards where the sound comes from. Neuvillette pushes the door open to see a glass pitcher in shards, and beside the pile of glass shards is you, lying on the ground, unconscious. Paimon shrieks, flying towards your unconscious body; she kneels beside your head and gently shakes you.

Aether loudly whispers, “Paimon, let them get through.”

Paimon’s bottom lip quivers as she backs away from your unconscious body, watching Neuvillette and Zhongli kneel over you. Aether and Paimon quietly leave the room, knowing their presence will not be needed as of now. Neuvillette pulls you into his arms and cradles you, caressing your head while watching Zhongli clean the mess.

You let out a weak cough, body shivering when the cool air of the house fans your skin. Your skin is hot enough for Neuvillette to feel it through his coat. The storm outside worsens as he carries you to the bed, tucking you in. Zhongli pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what to do next.

Neuvillette continues to stare at you, assessing you from head to toe. “You briefly mentioned Doctor Baizhu while we were on our way to this rental house. Is there a way for you to get in contact with Doctor Baizhu regarding [Y/N]’s situation?”

Zhongli nods, now standing beside the Iudex. “Doctor Baizhu is enroute. He should be here very soon.”

Zhongli removes his gloves and places his hand over your forehead, letting out a long exhale. He slowly removes his hands from your forehead and glances at the discarded rag on the wooden nightstand. Zhongli excuses himself and leaves your and Neuvillette’s side for a moment before returning with a cool, wet rag. Zhongli brushes your hair to the side and places the rag on your forehead. The two men can see you visibly relax and sigh with contentment.

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli after the Liyuen man places his hand on Neuvillette’s shoulders. “[Y/N] is a strong woman. She’ll be okay. If [Y/N] can scare a mitachurl away, she can fight this illness.” Zhongli winces internally. Perhaps that’s not the best pep talk, but he’s trying his best to quell Neuvillette’s worries.

Neuvillette places his hand over Zhongli’s hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. “[Y/N] is something else. I just hope this illness passes by without causing any damage,” Neuvillette murmurs.

About an hour later, Doctor Baizhu arrives with his little helper, Qiqi. Neuvillette and Zhongli stand to the side to let the green-haired doctor treat you. Doctor Baizhu rouses you from your sleep for a check-up and medication. Qiqi sits beside you, letting you lean against her as the green-haired Doctor checks your vitals.

After your checkup, Doctor Baizhu hands Zhongli a bottle of medication. “Make sure [Y/N] takes her medications every six hours. Do not let her take it on an empty stomach, as it may cause nausea. I do not recommend traveling while in such conditions; she can start traveling within a week as long as her illness subsides.”

Neuvillette raises his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, Doctor Baizhu, do you know when [Y/N] will regain consciousness?”

Doctor Baizhu pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and strokes his chin. “That, I do not know. I want you to remember, Mister Neuvillette, that [Y/N]’s symptoms are quite severe. She needs all of the rest she can get.”

If Neuvillette had ears, they would be drooping. Zhongli squeezes Neuvillette’s hands, giving him a reassuring smile. Qiqi waddles up to the two men, handing them a piece of paper. Zhongli blinks and unfolds the paper to see a list of items you’re allowed and not allowed to eat.

Qiqi returns to your side and gently pats your head, saying, “Get well soon, [Y/N].”

Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi bid the two men farewell before exiting the rental house. Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi stop in their tracks. The green-haired Doctor chuckles and looks at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who look at them quizzically.

“It looks like [Y/N] has a visitor,” Doctor Baizhu gestures to the floating anemo fungus.

The floating anemo fungus nervously floats towards Zhongli and Neuvillette, drenched in the rain. Zhongli and Neuvillette can’t tell whether the floating anemo fungus is shivering due to being soaked or because they intimidate the creature.

After bidding Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi goodbye, Neuvillette and Zhongli close the front door. The shivering floating anemo fungus squeaks, looking at Zhongli and Neuvillette. Zhongli and Neuvillette return to your room with the floating anemo fungus close behind. When they open the door, the floating anemo fungus makes its way to your bed.

It squeaks, gently nudging at your face. Zhongli steps forward, ready to snatch the floating anemo fungus away from you to prevent it from disturbing your very much-needed sleep, but Neuvillette stops Zhongli. The (now dry) floating anemo fungus makes its way under the blanket to snuggle up against you, providing comfort. Just when Zhongli and Neuvillette assume they’re going to be the ones to snuggle you as you sleep, a floating anemo fungus decides to take their spot instead.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

The very next day, you wake up to be sandwiched between Zhongli and Neuvillette with the floating anemo fungus you nursed back to health lying on your chest. While you’re still sick, you are feeling much better compared to the day before. However, that doesn’t stop Zhongli and Neuvillette from being your temporary caretakers.

“Dearest, you must drink this ginger tea. It’ll soothe your sore throat,” Zhongli says, placing the cup of hot ginger tea in front of you.

You scrunch your face, hesitant to drink the tea Zhongli brewed for you. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Zhongli brewing tea for your sore throat! It’s the taste that you can’t handle! You have tried ginger tea in the past (yes, also brewed by Zhongli), and it ended up not being your cup of tea.

“I don’t like the taste…” You mumble, hugging the floating anemo fungus to your chest.

Neuvillette sighs, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Would you like to drink warm water instead?”

Your eyes light up, immediately agreeing to drink warm water over ginger tea. Zhongli sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You give Zhongli a sympathetic look and then at Neuvillette, who tucks your hair behind your ears.

“I’ll drink both the warm water and ginger tea if it’ll make you two feel better,” you suggest.

Neuvillette shakes his head, “No, no. If you prefer to drink warm water to soothe your sore throat, then that is what you will be drinking. Do not force yourself to drink something you can’t stomach.”

Zhongli sighs in defeat. “Alright, if that is what you wish, I will make Bamboo Shoot Soup for you to eat.”

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli, confused. Before Zhongli can leave the room, Neuvillette gets up from the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Zhongli raises his eyebrows at Neuvillette, who approaches him. You and the floating anemo fungus awkwardly sit there, watching Neuvillete and Zhongli have a stare-down. They’re not going to start arguing with each other, are they? You’re not in the mood to deal with any quarrels.

“I was going to make Consomme Purete for her to eat,” Neuvillette mutters to Zhongli.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow at the Chief Justice of Fontaine. “Oh? She’s going to be drinking warm water, as you have suggested. [Y/N] loves my signature dish, and I believe the soup will fill her stomach and give her plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette frowns. “Are you implying my Consomme Purete lacks nutrients and won’t fill her stomach?” Neuvillette props his hands on his hips.

Oh, dear Archons.

“Neuvillette, that is not what I’m implying.”

“Oh, really? Then what are you implying then?”

Zhongli hands the paper over to Neuvillette. “I’m following Doctor Baizhu and Miss Qiqi’s orders. Miss Qiqi specifically said to feed [Y/N] food with plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette takes the paper but doesn’t read it. “You are still implying that my Consomme Purete doesn’t contain enough nutrients for her to eat.”

“Dear Archons.” Zhongli sighs, rubbing his temples.

You cough to grab their attention, only to cough up phlegm, nearly choking on it. Neuvillette and Zhongli are by your side almost immediately, making sure you’re okay and not choking on the phlegm.

You slump in your spot and hug the floating anemo fungus to your chest, sighing. “I will eat both the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete. I haven’t been eating well, and I believe both of your dishes will not only fill up my appetite but also provide me with copious amounts of nutrients.”

Thankfully, that is something both Zhongli and Neuvillette end up agreeing on. You managed to finish the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete, making both your lovers proud and relieved. Zhongli makes sure you take your medication, and Neuvillette provides more warm water to drink with your medication. Your stomach didn’t churn when you took the medication, thankfully.

By the time it’s nightfall, both Zhongli and Neuvillette are in their dragon forms, taking up all the space on the bed. Zhongli and Neuvillette are curled into a half circle with you between them. You close your eyes and rest your head on Zhongli’s body, feeling Zhongli and Neuvillette curling and wrapping around you.

As you slowly doze off, you hug the floating anemo fungus tightly while Zhongli and Neuvillette each take turns pressing their nose against your head— kissing your head but in their dragon forms.

“Thank you three for being here.” You whisper, shivering.

Neuvillette flicks his tail, draping the blanket over your and their bodies before resting his head beside Zhongli. Zhongli and Neuvillette close their eyes, drifting off to the sound of your quiet snores.

Note: I had this commission delayed due to being busy with my university and other things happening in my life. I actually like how this fic turned out! While I was on hiatus, I had this mental drawing board for this commission and have changed a lot of things in this fic. I'm happy with the outcome of the fic itself. Tama/Kacie, if you see this, I hope you love this fic as much as I loved typing it out :) Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Link to the commissioned version: The Traveling Artist's Ailment (Commissioned Ver.)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 / Short Fics and Others Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

#Genshin impact x reader #Genshin Impact fanfiction #Genshin Impact fanfics #Zhongli x fem!reader #Neuvillette x fem!reader #Zhongli x reader #Neuvillette x reader #Zhongli x reader x Neuvillette #genshinluvr #genshinluvr commissioned fics

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blueeyedgirll · 6 months ago

Text

cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

#emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x bau reader

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churipu · 1 year ago

Note

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

1K notes · View notes

atlaswav · 7 months ago

Text

CATACLYSMIC ☾

INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.

Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.

With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence.

He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.

Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.

Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.

God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.

“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face.

Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.

His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’.

If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough.

“Have you found it?”

You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster.

You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.

“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”

“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”

Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself.

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.

How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write.

Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)

He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project.

The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project.

The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts.

“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”

You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.

Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect.

Statuesque.

His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul.

“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning.

You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.

“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s not good, either.”

You scowl at him.

“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand.

You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.

“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”

You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had.

You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself.

Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings.

His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him.

You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow.

You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman?

“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils.

“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance.

You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist.

Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light.

“It’s deplorable.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair.

“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”

You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh?

“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name.

Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either.

You were so wrong.

More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero.

He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.

Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious.

“Ratio.”

He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”

“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”

“Are you going to stop looking down at me?”

The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?

“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”

You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”

You glare at him. Your chest stings.

He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”

“Why?”

“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”

Your eyes widen.

“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”

You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”

“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”

You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction.

“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”

“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”

His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer.

The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it.

He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant.

You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”

“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”

“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”

“Jackass.”

“Change it.”

You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks.

“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching.

“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”

“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”

“Then learn.”

“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”

“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”

“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”

“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”

“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”

He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line.

“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”

You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research.

Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands.

“I’m done.”

“Show me.”

You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully.

Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines.

But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.

He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light.

“It’s good.”

You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”

“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”

“Huh?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What potential?”

He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy.

You happened to be the one exception.

“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”

“You think I have potential?”

“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”

He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile.

Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas.

—

The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors.

He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such.

But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom.

You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns.

It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions.

You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was.

He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once.

He hated it.

It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him.

Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you.

“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it.

“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”

You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back.

With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again.

But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble.

The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation.

You wanted to slap him.

Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?

You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class.

You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you.

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Tutor me please.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”

“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”

He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”

He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”

You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”

He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”

He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.

But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you.

It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself.

When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door.

You were a picture to behold.

Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head.

You were messing with him again.

Two could play that game.

“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”

“What, like alcohol?” you huffed.

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.

He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be.

His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation.

It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?

“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”

“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed.

“You’re too smart.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“Smart ass,”

“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”

You groaned. “Where?”

He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief.

“You understand?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”

“I won’t. Now get out.”

“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge.

Remarkably, he pulled out two beers.

“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”

A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Wipe it off then.”

A frown. His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall.

“Drink and leave.”

“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness.

“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand.

“I do.”

“Are you lonely or something?”

“No, people are irritating.” Like you.

“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.

“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”

“If you say so.”

Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass.

One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath.

“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.

“What was that?”

“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so. He squints at the ground.

He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.

“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”

“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you hate me?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then why are you like this?”

Your eyebrows raise.

“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”

“...Sorry?”

“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”

You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south.

“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes.

“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.

“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”

“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”

“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”

“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought.

“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else.

As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall.

You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze.

You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?

“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.

“You tell me.”

Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices.

He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast.

“You’re a siren.”

“Am I?”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”

“I hate you.”

“Really?”

“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”

“Are you a masochist?”

“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”

“How? Why?”

“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”

“Are you normally this analytical of people?”

“No, which supports my point.”

“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”

“No. I hate you for it.”

“Let me go then.”

He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door.

“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it.

“Polar opposites.”

“I mean who am I to you?”

He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space.

“Veritas?”

“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.”

You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this.

He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”

“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”

“Night.”

Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill.

written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024

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elizaleclerc · 2 months ago

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it was all by design 🌟

"what if i told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: hunter!reader starts to realize their feelings for xavier, but he's felt this way the whole time...

song: mastermind by taylor swift

word count: 2.1k

author's note: my first l&ds fic everyone cheer! / mostly fluff / workplace romance (i mean this is canon) / im new to this game don't judge / cheeky makeout sesh / he falls first and hard / sarcastic smug xavier (he's a freak) / sweet talk - nothing too spicy / barely proof read oops

It was simple day at the arcade. You and Xavier decided to take the day off from missions and relax with some fun at the colorful arcade machines. You had won more stuffed plushies than you could feasibly carry in your arms, so Xavier held one in his hand delicately, as if he knew how much those little stuffed creatures meant to you.

“Well I better call it a day, I don’t think I can carry any more of these little guys.” You chuckled as your arms began to grow sore, even with the stuffed creatures’ light weight.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be resting your muscles and instead here you are.” He gestured towards your arms filled with plushes. You laughed to yourself, refusing to admit he was right.

The two of you walked back to your car and you dumped all of the plushes in the backseat. As you looked at all of the adorable creatures, a realization hit you. You had no more room at your desk in the office for all of these plushes to fit.

“What are you thinking about? Or are you just admiring your growing collection?” Xavier spoke from beside me. I turned to look at him for a few moments. The Xavier during missions was so different yet the same as the Xavier outside of work. You had come to know him as a close friend, and even shared some flirtatious moments. Most of the time, you pushed those moments aside and decided to see him only as a coworker. But flirtatious fantasies sometimes danced through your mind.

You envisioned his desk at the office. Completely barren; no pictures, no decorations. A piece of furniture completely devoid of any color or personality. You grabbed one of your plushes. This one was a particularly round tomato plush. “Here,” you started, “this won’t fit on my desk, so you can have it.”

Xavier took the plush in his hand and examined it for a moment, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno, it’s up to you.”

For some unknown reason, after the day at the arcade you spent the entire next day thinking about Xavier. During random moments of the day, memories between the two of you kept flashing back into your mind. You would be folding laundry and suddenly think back to his arms brushing against yours like they did during a mission in the forest. You both had heard and felt fluctuations and were on guard. He held your wrist in a swift movement to keep you close. You snapped out of it and finished folding your clothes.

Another memory flashed while you were cleaning dishes. It was a particularly risky mission, and Xavier’s Evol was dwindling. His life was at risk, but he was still willing to put himself in the face of danger in order to keep you safe. When you tried to resonate with him, at first he hesitated. He wouldn’t dare you spend any of your energy or power on him. But in the end, your decision to resonate saved his life. You both thought you’d end up losing the other that day, and the silent air of the aftermath sat heavy. You held each other close, your heavy breathing mixing together.

After your days off were over, and you thought you had finally gotten over yourself, you walked into the office prepared for whatever mission Jenna was going to send you on. But then, you saw Xavier across the room. He was standing talking to another hunter, and you just about lost your mind. He was standing with his arms crossed, clad in his hunter uniform, his head cocked slightly as he listened to whatever his coworker was jabbering about. God, he looked amazing, you thought. Why were you thinking of him in this way all of the sudden?

You had gone over every small interaction, every side conversation, every slight touch that the two of you had ever shared. Was there really something between the two of you, or had you actually gone mad this time. You walked over to your desk, placing one of your newest plushes on the shelf to complete your set.

Your eyes glanced over at Xavier’s desk, not expecting anything to have changed. You did a double take when you noticed something new. A small tomato plush sat next to his computer. That wasn’t the only thing either. A square photo was stuck to the hang wall that every worker had.

Trying to be inconspicuous, you squinted at the photo. It was one the two of you had taken before one of your most recent missions. You were both dressed in your uniforms, and he had his arm around your shoulder as you held bunny ears behind his head. He was smiling, and you were sticking your tongue out. It was the only photo the two of you had ever taken together.

Your head was reeling. This couldn’t be real. You were convinced you were trapped in some Protocore induced dream. “Do you like the new decorations?” Your body jolted as Xavier spoke next to you. You turned to see a smug smile on his face, his arms still crossed.

You were too shocked to speak, but finally decided to say something as Xavier waited for an answer. “Yeah, yeah…it’s nice.” Your voice sounded more exasperated than you’d like. Xavier seemed to read you like a book. Did he know the realizations that you were having?

“Are you alright?” He asked with a slight smile. He didn’t actually seem too concerned.

“Yeah- no, yeah, I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, refusing to make eye contact with him. You saw a slight twitch in his bicep as he adjusted his stance by his desk. Your entire face went hot. “I think Jenna wanted me to look at something in the Archive room, I’ll um…be right back.” You hurried through your excuse to leave the main office.

Your breath had quickened, but you found solace in the empty archive room. Only tech workers were really needed back here to retrieve old files on specific Protocores or important history of Linkon. Thankfully the room was empty, the only sound being your heavy breathing. You sat yourself on one of the empty counters, the space usually used for examining documents. You put your head in your hands, get it together.

You heard the handle of the door slide open, and your heart sank. In walked Xavier, still appearing smug and moving like he rehearsed all of this. “Are you following me now?” You huffed, just needing some time alone to sort through your thoughts.

“Are you done lying to me?” He retorted, moving closer to you, now standing only a few feet away.

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed in a hushed laugh.

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on?” He still held that dumb smile on his face, and your brows furrowed.

“Are you actually concerned for me? Because you’re smiling. Do you know you’re smiling right now?” You asked in a rushed tone; you’ve never seen him behave this way.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Do I have to explain everything to you?" He took a step closer, his body now towering over you as you sat perched on the counter. He leaned down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your legs. Your faces were mere inches apart, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “Do I have to explain why your face flushes when I get close like this?”

Gently, he reaches out and places his warm hand on your knee, caressing it with gentle strokes. With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to trace a path up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Gradually, his touch becomes more confident and sure, sending waves of desire rippling through your body. “Do I have to explain how your breath quickens when I do this?”

He leans in, his breath warm on your neck as he speaks in a soft whisper only meant for you. You can feel the heat radiating from his lips, and the gentle brush of his words sends shivers down your spine. His breath carries the scent of mint and musk, enveloping you in a cloud of desire. The closeness between you is palpable, and every nerve in your body is electrified by his presence. “Or can you put the pieces together yourself?”

“Xavier…” Is all you can think to say. Your breathing was quickening, and your face was flushed.

He sighed, his lips just barely grazing the start of your jaw, “I’ve waited and waited for you to finally feel what I’ve felt for so long.” You take your hands and slightly push his chest away.

You analyze his face and his brows furrow ever so slightly. “You mean- you’ve felt this way about me all this time and never told me?” You brought one of your hands up to the side of his face, your thumb lightly tracing around his cheek.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew you didn’t feel the same way- if you would never feel this way…” He starts, and before he can continue, you speak up.

“But now you know…”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Exactly.” He brings a hand up to your jaw and slowly moves it to the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you now?” Your eyes felt dazed as you gazed down at his lips. He brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip, waiting. “Please, your eyes are saying yes but I need to hear it from your mouth.”

You nodded, snapping out of the haze you were in. “Yes, yes, please.” As soon as the last word was uttered Xavier brought his lips onto yours. He started slow, his soft lips moving in rhythm with yours. He was still leaning on his hands, but he moved them to wrap around your lower back. You never thought he would feel this good on your lips. You let out a slight whimper, and that sent Xavier spiraling. Like a man starved, he quickened his pace and kissed you as if he’d never get the chance again.

“Wait- we can’t do this here.” You took a moment in between kisses to center yourself and remember you were at work.

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Xavier breathed out and went back to kissing you again. Once his lips found yours for the second time you didn’t care anymore either. You wanted this feeling, this burning desire for him to last forever.

You smiled into the next kiss, “Okay,” You moved your hands into his hair, your fingers tugging on the strands slightly. He moaned lightly into your kiss, causing your back to arch.

You almost missed the door handle opening again, and you immediately pushed Xavier off of you. He stumbled back, partially in shock until he realized why. Andrew walked in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from walking in on the two of you. “Um- Jenna is looking for you. The mission assignments are about to be handed out.” He cleared his throat and walked out of the room.

Your own face was flush pink, and once Andrew left the room you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that here.” Xavier laughed to himself. You had no choice but to laugh, really.

You hopped off of the counter, your legs feeling weak. You couldn’t even think about going on a mission right now, nonetheless with Xavier. “Well,” You straightened out your uniform, “I guess we should head back.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chuckled to himself, “until next time.”

Your face flushed at his words, because you knew there would be a next time.

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wandaslovey · 4 months ago

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭

➺ natasha romanoff x inexperienced!fem!bi!reader

*not my gif*

wc ~ 1.5k

a/n: just wanted to warn/emphasize.. reader is bisexual and this is kind of written where natasha is like her “bi awakening.”

a/n: okay so i wrote this months ago to dip my toes back into writing again… it’s definitely not my best work, but i wanted to get a natasha fic out there on my blog since i only have wanda fics on my master list rn.

cw: really none except that reader is an extreme overthinker

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

“natasha, be for real right now. you know i don’t like going out.”

“c’mon. you’re young and beautiful and full of light and energy. you should be going out there, breaking boys hearts and making new friends.”

god she was insufferable. she was calling me beautiful? does she not see herself?? and breaking guys hearts, what’s that about?

“‘tasha you should know better than anyone that i’ve been steering clear of men lately. i just don’t want to be in a relationship right now.”

really the idea of it was wholly overwhelming. the thought of having to open myself up to rejection, make myself so vulnerable in front of a man (especially).. god knows there is a increasingly small percentage of men worthy of my vulnerability.

“oh god (Y/N), you don’t need to be in a relationship to have some fun. just let loose a little, that’s all,” she encourages with that devious little twinkle in her eye. an amused smile was playing on her lips and i knew she found my “uptightness” entertaining at times.

“are you saying i should go around having sex with random men?” i raise my eyebrows in accusation, though i knew i was taking her implication a step too far.

she rolls her eyes, a smile touching her lips.

“you know what i mean… i think a little kissing will loosen you up in a good way.”

i give her a look, one that clearly shows the fact that i think she’s being absurd before i turn back around and go back to scrolling on my phone.

“what was that look?” she asks, turning her body towards me in the swively chair that sat in front of my desk. she was hugging one knee up to her chest, the other dangling from the seat.

“nothing,” i mumble dismissively, shaking my head as i truly didn’t want to broach this subject with her at present.

“no no no, that wasn’t nothing. that was something. . . what, do you have something against kissing?”

her tone implies an edge that she didn’t really believe i had anything against kissing.. which would make her partially incorrect. i didn’t have anything against kissing, i was just extremely inexperienced and that made it all the more daunting.

“can we not talk about this? you seem all too invested in my ‘suggestive conduct.’”

suddenly she’s out of the chair and padding across the hardwood floor to where i was sitting criss cross applesauce in the middle of my made bed.

“this i have to know..” she sits next to me, seemingly effortlessly turning my body towards her so i’m facing her and she plucks the phone out of my hands, setting it beside her.

“you always dodge me when i start talking about things like this.” her facial expression was sinfully amused and i could sense that she was not going to let this go this time. i find myself swallowing a lump in my throat as for the umpteenth time, i’m taken aback by her beauty.

her orange red hair slightly wavy from her shower earlier and parted down the middle. her face was bare of any makeup which i felt only made her green eyes jump out more against her skin.

“nat, c’mon..” i plea with her to drop it, hoping she would lose interest in the subject.

she smiles at me, tilting her head as she takes in my slightly abashed expression.

“you’ve never been kissed before, have you?”

“no, no i have. it’s just been awhile,” i shrug, still trying to dismiss the subject by being nonchalant about it.

“how long?” she presses.

“like 5 years almost,”

“five years??” her mouth gapes slightly through her smile, her eyes bright and eager as if she was thoroughly entertained by this information.

“and that was your first kiss?” she adds after i hadn’t said anything.

“well no, it was my second kiss technically.”

“okay so, let me get this straight, you’ve only ever kissed 2 guys in your life and the last time was 5 years ago?” she tries to clarify to which i just nod my head and then shrug.

“why?” she asks, sounding genuinely surprised at learning my lack of experience.

i sigh, peeling my eyes from my lap to look at her as i reply. “i just didn’t have good experiences either time and it turned me off from really wanting to try it again. that’s all.”

“they weren’t good at kissing?”

“well.. i mean they were both fine, i guess. i don’t have much to compare it to. i just didn’t really want to kiss either of them. i just did it because i was afraid to hurt their feelings. then afterwards i ended up regretting it because it wasn’t that good enough for it to justify doing it casually.”

she nods her head once at my words, taking in my explanation.

“and now? you’re afraid your next experiences will be the same?”

“um well.. yeah i think so. i’m also just embarrassed by my lack of experience. i’ve just gotten it in my head that i’m a terrible kisser.” i cast my eyes down again, feeling a little

embarrassed at having admitted this to her.

she smirks, the sound causing me to shrink further into myself even though i could tell she was trying to muffle her reaction.

“now why would you think something like that?”

her voice had a bit of a suggestive edge to it, causing my body to be on even more alert.

“i don’t know… i just do,” my eyes were still downcast, my fingers fidgeting with the hair tie around my wrist. it was quiet between us for several beats and i feel my face start to heat up in the silence.

just as i was about to say something, anything to break the silence, i feel her fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to look at her.

“you think you might want some practice?”

she asks me out of the blue. her eyes were intent on mine, a sinful, unabashed smile on her face. immediately, my heart rate picked up and i had to remind myself to breath normally as to not have an outward reaction to her question.

“wh..huh?” i ask confused, my mind already beginning to feel foggy at the thought of kissing the natasha romanoff.

“well now i’m curious to know if you are a bad kisser or not.” she was shameless. confidence in her suggestion practically radiating from her form. her eyes slowly travel down my face to my lips before she flicks them back up to my eyes.

“will you let me kiss you? i won’t bite,” she slowly leans in closer to me, her eyes naturally drifting to my lips again.

“i..i can’t.” i breath out, my lips parting as i breathe through my mouth. my eyes were scanning all over her face, frantic as i try to find an excuse to weasel out of this.

i want to kiss her.. i really do. but if i really was a bad kisser and she found out, i would be utterly mortified.

“nat…” i try, leaning back just slightly to put a couple more inches distance between us.

she follows my movement, leaning her body forward as i lean back, closing the gap i created as soon as it was there. i’m assaulted by her smell. it was like cinnamon, vanilla and sandalwood and completely intoxicating.

“don’t think about it too much. i can practically hear the overthinking in that head of yours,” she smiles.

“wh-what if i’m bad at it?” i try to reason with her, to save both her and myself from this experience. she shakes her head, that amused smile still playing on her lips.

“shh.. sweet girl. just relax your lips and follow my lead, okay?” one of her hands reaches up and tucks some hair behind my ear. her fingertips linger on my jaw as she leans in closer. i am utterly captivated, unable to even think properly as i find myself in the most surreal situation.

i close my eyes when her face was merely centimeters away. i can feel the warmth of her face and the tension, almost palpable now that we were so close. i tilt my head up ever so slightly, anticipating her lips against mine.

as i wait, it feels like the seconds drag on. i can hear my heart beating in my ears, smell vanilla and cinnamon and taste natasha’s breath on my tongue.

i was about to peek my eyes open when i finally feel her lips press against mine. it starts out as a close mouthed kiss, but after a mere couple of seconds, her lips part and i easily follow her lead through the kiss. she pulls away all too quickly, and i find myself immediately missing the loss of her lips.

“was that so scary detka?” she murmurs, her voice sounding even lower than normal.

i couldn’t be too sure how i looked to her, but my vision seemed hazy and i was almost positive i had a drunk expression on my face.

i shake my head from side to side.

“no.”

she hums and then brings a hand to my face, ever so gently brushing the back of her knuckles against my cheek. “ty tak milo nevinen. eto dragotsenno.” she leans in again, kissing me more firmly this time. i respond eagerly, meshing my lips around hers.

my insecurities and worries melted away the longer we kissed, the space between our where my body ended and hers began becoming lost.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x you

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celestie0 · 4 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony drabble no1. new neighbor

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ drabble summary. you visit your new next-door-neighbor's house to welcome him to the neighborhood only to find issue with the fact that's he's insanely hot (note to any potential new readers: you can read this before starting the main storyline if you'd like!)

ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ words. 2.4k

a/n. hiiiiii welcome to this first ihm drabble!! i just had an idea of writing a small scene of when ihm gojo & reader first met so :0 cracked this out in an hour. hope you enjoyy!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

There were a great deal of possibilities you had expected to see when you rang the doorbell to your new next-door-neighbors house, but none of them were quite what you had ended up seeing at the front door when it had swung open.

Perhaps it could’ve been a newlywed couple, looking stressed beyond belief with thin lines under their eyes over the agony that comes with moving into a new home with a partner. It could’ve been a teenager, possibly a broody one, because your parents moving the family out to some random town right in the middle of your high school years would’ve made any kid emo. Or it could’ve been an old wrinkly man, grumpy and a little sore to the eyes and entirely too irritated by someone ringing his doorbell because it fucked up the frequency transmitter on his hearing aids.

Instead, when the door flew open, your neck craned up to meet the eye contact of the most stupidly hot and handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Well, at least certainly in all of this smalltown in Dayton county. They don’t build men like that here. With stunning blue eyes that stare deep into yours, hair that’s boyishly shaggy yet looks so soft at the same time, tall, muscular, broad shoulders. And the soft cotton of his pajama long-sleeve shirt with the matching plaid pants clinging to the curves of strong biceps and thighs has you full-fledged staring at this—…dare-you-say, incredibly husband-material of a man.

You almost forget you have a boyfriend for a second. And, for the record, your boyfriend is a sexy piece of ass too (Choso if you’re reading this please know that I love you very much and Gojo would have to fight a feral bear to steal me away from you). But, god, was it a crime to find another man attractive occasionally?

He blinks at you, eyes wide like he was equally as shocked to take in the appearance of you. You’re also sure the last thing he expected was a visitor right now at 2:33pm on a Tuesday, but you had finally seen all the UHAUL trucks pulled up in his driveway and the men moving furniture into his house leave the neighborhood, so you felt now would be a good time to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” he finally says to you, rubbing the back of his neck like it’s sore, “uhh…can I help you?”

You’re momentarily speechless. “Oh! I’m—” you take a pause to breathe because words are suddenly unspeakable without at least a gallon of air in your lungs, “I’m y/n, I live next door.” You point to your house. “I just saw you moving in and so I…wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!” You hold out the paper plate wrapped in tin foil that you were holding. “I made some pumpkin bread for you.”

The corner of his mouth curls up slightly, eyebrows raising pleasantly. “Oh, that’s really sweet, thanks,” he says with a tone that suggests he’s surprised by the hospitality and you briefly wonder where he’s moved here from. He takes the plate from you and balances it on his palm.

An awkward silence.

“Uh, did you wanna—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind himself, “did you wanna come inside?”

You blink at him.

“I mean, the place is kind of a mess right now, but—”

“Yes,” you cut him off.

He smiles at you, relaxed now compared to that hesitance from before, and he uses his back to push the door open more while stepping aside for you to walk inside, and walk inside is exactly what you do.

The house is a little cold, with no heater running, and incredibly empty. It’s pretty much the exact copy layout of your house, as all houses in the neighborhood are, except the color tones within this one are much brighter. The foyer is crowded with stacked cardboard boxes, some open and some not, with styrofoam sprawled all across carpet and hardwood, and you take a moment to admire the seafoam green loveseat pressed flush up against one of the walls.

“Got it on Facebook Marketplace,” he tells you, and you glance over at him to see him watching you assess his furniture, “lots of surprisingly good finds on there.”

You smile at him and stand up straight.

“I’m Satoru, by the way,” he says, leaning his shoulder against the door now before crossing his arms, “sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself to you earlier.”

“Ohh, no worries. You’re probably tired from moving in?” you ask, trying not to feel awkward in this essentially-a-stranger’s house.

“Very,” he laughs.

“What made you move here?”

“Oh, just, uh, my job. My family’s out here too, so figured it’d be nice being a little closer to them. But I was in a bit of a rush to close on something out here, so I just bought the first place I could find.” He peers in towards the house, eyes darting across his empty dining room. You notice slabs of deconstructed wood are leaned up against the wall. “But it’s nice. Neighborhood’s nice too.”

“Oh yesss we have wonderful people maintaining it!” you tell him.

He flashes you one of those smiles again. “You’ve lived here a while?”

“Yes! I was born and raised here, actually,” you say and then point a finger in the direction of your house, “that’s actually the only house I’ve ever lived in.”

His eyes widened. “Wow, that’s rare.”

“Yuppp. Just my mom and I now.”

“Oh, is your mom the one that was out gardening yesterday?” he asks. “Pulling out weeds on the edges of the driveway?”

You sigh. “Yes. That’s her. Er, at least I’m pretty sure it is, because I always tell her not to garden anymore, but she never listens to me.”

He lets out a well-meaning scoff, and you wonder if he’ll ask you more questions about it, but he lets the conversation settle into a silence instead. You discretely steal a glance at his left hand when he untucks it from his crossed arms to scratch at his jaw, and you notice there’s no wedding ring on his finger.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks.

You blink at him. “Oh, I—…sure.”

He leads you into the kitchen, which you notice is mostly set up with all the appliances out on the counters and glass cabinets filled with ceramic sets of mugs and plates. He has an espresso machine set up in the corner of the stover counter, and you follow him right up to it.

“Woooow an espresso machine, I’ve always wanted one of these.”

He flits his gaze to you with a smile on his face before he grabs the handle of the portafilter, twisting it to release it from the machine, and then he presses some button that pushes steam out of it. “It’s worth it if you’re a daily coffee drinker.”

You sigh, leaning your elbow on the counter as you watch him. “Oh, I survive off of coffee, please. I work as a night shift nurse at the ED over on Main Street, so I need all the caffeine I can get.”

“You’re a nurse? That’s good to know,” he says, measuring out beans on a small digital scale. You turn to face him a little more, entirely intrigued by the process now. “If I’m ever in a life or death situation, can I give you a call?”

“If you’re still able to give me a call, then you’re not in a life or death situation.”

He gives you another one of those smiles, a little cheekily lopsided this time, like he’s really enjoying this conversation with you. It’s probably something that’s pleasantly mentally stimulating to his exhausted mind as he’s likely spent the last three days or so talking to no one except the UHAUL truck people and the melancholic memorabilia within his boxes of stuff. It was as easy as any small talk could be, this conversation, and it’s coming a little too naturally for your own liking as well.

He puts the beans in the grinder, and you hear a whirring sound as they are ground into fine particles that release a rich aroma of bitter into the air.

“This seems awfully tedious. I take back my desire of wanting an espresso machine,” you comment, pushing your knuckles into your cheek now as you perch yourself up by an elbow on the counter.

He laughs as he sifts the grounds into the portafilter, breaking up any clumps, and then he twists it onto the espresso machine before placing a mug underneath it. “Yeah, there’s a steep learning curve with it, but once you perfect it, it’s pretty easy. A lot can go wrong that can affect the quality of the shot though, for sure.”

“Like what?” you ask, a little too interested.

“Uhh, you can over extract, which leaves kind of a bitter taste, or under extract, which makes it taste sour. Usually depends on the ground size or the tamping. Plus, when you switch beans, you’ve gotta experiment on the settings all over again.”

You hear the whirring of the machine plus the delicate steady drip of the espresso into the mug. “I have a headache just listening to that. Why bother at all?”

He nods his head slowly, glancing at the watch on his wrist, and after a set amount of seconds has passed, he turns the machine off then peers into the mug. “Well, taste it and see if it’s worth it,” he says, handing the mug to you.

You take it from him, the fragrance of coffee immediately making your mouth water. And you take a delicate sip of the coffee, a slight bitterness hitting your tongue followed immediately by sweetness from the crema that has your eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh wow. Incredibly worth it,” you say.

He laughs. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Gosh no, I’ll just have it like this, please.”

You both chat a little bit more as he makes himself a cup too. You notice that he has his coffee black, as essentially an Americano, which he pours over ice in a shiny glass even in the cool of autumn.

Apparently he’s a real estate agent, selling properties a little out further than the county line, in more posh areas than here. Like all those cliff-side homes you see when you’re driving further out of town and always sigh to yourself wondering if you’ll ever get to live in a pretty house like that someday.

His parents live nearby as well as his younger sister’s family and he has a niece who’s four years old. And you want to ask so badly if he has a family of his own as well, but if he did, wouldn’t they be here with him?

“Holy shit this is amazing,” he says through a muffled mouthful of the pumpkin bread you brought for him, “you made this from scratch?”

No. You used a pre-made mix. “Oh gosh, yes, I’m something of a little baker, if you will.”

He nods, letting out an indulgent sigh as he chews, eyes shutting close tightly in satisfaction of the taste and you find it amusing. He has a physical build that you could only assume requires an immense amount of discipline, but it’s kind of cute to see he’s somewhat weak for sweets.

You glance at the time on your phone. “Ah, I have to get going. I need to take my mom somewhere, but um, it was really nice meeting you! Hopefully I’ll see you around in the neighborhood?”

He nods his head, “oh, yeah, definitely.”

Your cheeks warm a little.

He walks you to the front entrance, and you briefly glance out the window into his driveway. “Oh. There’s a boat.”

He walks up right next to you, his arm pressed against your shoulder as he stands close, and you note that he smells so nice, like shampoo and clean laundry. The softness of his pajamas brushes against your skin and it makes you borderline dizzy.

Choso would be pissed off to the nines if he knew you were feeling things for your next-door-neighbor. Cut it out already, you think to yourself.

“Oh they finally brought my boat in,” he comments, “sweet.”

“That’s yours?” you ask, turning to face him in surprise, “it’s huge!”

“Yup, just bought it,” he says, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he walks up to the window to peer out the blinds. “A beauty, she is.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a she, it’s an it.”

“To you, maybe. But to me?…she’s so much more than that,” he says, but there’s some self-regarding hint of satire in his voice.

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping your shoes back on at the door. “It’s kind of…lengthy though. Where are you going to park it?”

He shrugs. “Probably right out there. Where it is right now.”

Where it is right now?!?! The hull is dangerously close to the entry of your driveway. There’s no way that would be agreeable with you. How are you supposed to pull your car in?

“Um. I’m pretty sure I’d have difficulties pulling my car in if you parked it there,” you tell him politely as he opens the door for you and you step out onto the concrete step of his front entrance.

You turn around to face him and see him squinting his eyes at his boat with inspection of your concern. Sorry for sounding repetitive, but it's seriously shocking. The way he looks. The way that small little expression—his eyes narrowing, brows furrowing, bottom lip slightly jutting out, all paired with the haphazard way his hair falls over his eyes—makes you stare at him like he’s some Grecian sculpture. It was a little concerning.

But, at the end of the day, attraction is merely cognitive, is it not? A social construct, if you will. Something that can go away just as easily as it comes, and then arrive once more as easily as it went away.

A pattern you’ll eventually realize a lot with your new next-door-neighbor, Gojo Satoru.

“Nah,” he says, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

[end of drabble]

a/n. alternate universe where they fuck on the marble countertop of his kitchen island on first encounter pls

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