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sturnioz · 8 months ago

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‘DRIVERS PLEASURE’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 2.2k

❝do you want me to help you with that?❞

content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, car head, oral (m receiving), blowjob, handjob, small mention of spitting, mention of hair pulling, possible exhibitionism,

You sigh softly as you glance at your reflection in the sun visor mirror of your boyfriends car, fingertips grazing the corner of your lips, erasing any excess lipstick that may have smeared during the ride and that your mascara hasn’t left any smudges on your eyelids.

You rushed when Matt had suddenly asked you out on a last-minute date and you were more than desperate to see him, having not been alone with him for a long period of time due to his busy schedule.

You had rapidly searched around your bedroom for the most suitable and clean clothing you could find, and hastily applied your makeup, your eagerness to finally see him overshadowed any concerns about your appearance until you you were parked outside the restaurant with just a few minutes remaining before you had to make it inside for your dinner reservation.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I look okay,” You tell him, adjusting the strands of hair framing your face. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you continue, “I don’t feel okay.”

Matt raises his eyebrow as he asks, “Why?”

“I rushed to get ready before you picked me up, so my makeup is all messy, and my outfit looks silly, and—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Matt interrupts your rambling, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he gazes at you from the driver's seat. “I think you look pretty. Really pretty,” You side eye him sceptically, but Matt chuckles, his teeth gently biting down on his bottom lip as he widens his smile. “No, seriously, I mean it… you look beautiful.”

Your head turns towards him and your heart swells at his compliment. The adoration and affection reflected in Matt’s eyes is enough to make you a little overwhelmed and without hesitation, you lean over the console and cup his face, pressing your lips against his.

Matt’s surprised exclamation is muffled by the kiss, caught off guard as he didn’t expect you to kiss him so suddenly, but he allows himself to melt into your touch. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with more love and urgency.

Every kiss you share with Matt feels like the first, sweet and tender. His lips on yours leaves you feeling dizzy as if you’re intoxicated, and you yearn for more, yet it never escalates beyond heavy make-out sessions with wandering hands that fail to explore beneath the clothes.

Surprisingly, you don’t really mind. You didn’t want to push or rush into something that might ruin what you have with Matt. The relationship is still new, having only become official a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to rush into anything… However, there are moments when you crave for him. Badly.

As always, you’re the one to break away from the kiss and an amused chuckle leaves you as Matt follows your lips, his own still puckered and waiting for you to return. Giving him one quick kiss, you suggest that it’s probably best for you both to go wait inside, unfastening your seatbelt and preparing to leave until Matt’s voice echoes throughout the vehicle.

“Wait!”

His raised tone startles you and you jump as his hand extends out, firmly grasping your wrist to prevent you from opening the car door. Your movements freeze, and you gaze at him with concern swimming in your eyes, unsure of what’s happening and why he’s reacting in such a certain way.

You notice the pink hue tinting his cheeks and the flush that spreads across his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath he takes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of what, and under different circumstances, the sight would’ve been hilarious. However, you were too worried about his sudden outburst to laugh.

Matt struggles to form a coherent sentence, and the grip his fingers have on your wrist tightens as he lowers his head to look down at his lap. Your gaze follows, and your eyes widen when you see the obvious tent in his pants.

Your hand rips free out of Matt’s grip as you slap it over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter which makes Matt’s cheeks grow even more red.

“Wa—wait, I just—It’s like—” Matt stammers, his hands flailing in the air in a panicked manner before he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to cover the bulge, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “Shut up. Stop. I have no control over that—”

“Matt, it’s okay.” You reassure him as your hand drops from your mouth, unable to hide the smile on your face. Truthfully, you’re a little flattered that a simple kiss can make Matt react like that. It boosts your ego immensely, and the thoughts that run through your mind are wild.

He continues to act embarrassed, tugging his shirt down further to hide himself but the friction of the shirt rubbing over the material of his jeans makes him tense up, eyes widening as a stifled grunt seeps past his lips.

“Matt…” You call out his name and his head turns to finally meet your eyes. You feel confident, maybe too confident as you say your next words, “Do you want me to help you?"

“Help me?” He repeats, blinking at you. “What do you—Oh. Wait. No. I swear, it’s fine. Just give me a few minutes and it’ll—oh shit.”

Matt curses, hissing through his teeth as you decide to bravely place your hand on his upper thigh, squeezing the skin beneath your fingers as you lean in closer to him, the centre console digging into the stomach. His gaze flicks between your hand and you advancing towards him, unsure on where to look until your nose is barely brushing against his own.

He swallows thickly at that look on your face, silently asking him the same question again and he struggles to find his voice, bobbing his head slowly in a short nod. He lets go of his shirt, dropping his hands to his side limply as he watches you work the button of his jeans, popping them open and pulling down the zipper before your hand dips beneath the waistband, cupping his through his boxers.

Matt exhales deeply, body relaxing into the driver's seat as he observes your actions with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and fists clenching at his side.

You’re giddy as you free his cock from his boxers, the sheer size of them sending a thrilling buzz to your cunt and you meet his eyes with a surprised grin.

“What?” His voice is quiet as he questions, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re big, Matt.”

Matt’s tongue prods at his cheek, trying to fight off the urge to smile at your compliment as his chin tucks into his chest, unable to look you in the eyes. His cheeks grow warm with a slight pink hue, but his mouth drops open with a sharp intake of breath as you slowly wrap your fingers around him the best you can.

Your lips hover above his cock, letting a wad of spit sit at the tip and using your thumb to smear it over the slit and head of his cock, causing his hips to jerk upwards.

The sound of him whispering curses through airy gasps and grunts is enough to urge you downwards, taking his tip into your mouth, letting it lay on your tongue for an experimental taste before pushing your head further down, taking his cock into your throat and swallowing around him.

“Oh my go—fuck.” Matt suddenly whimpers loudly, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his skin, nervous eyes glancing around the restaurant's parking lot to see if anyone was lingering around outside.

He was thankful to have brought you both out near nightfall, but he was even more thankful that he had decided to park a few spaces away from the building itself, tucked away beneath a tree and barely any street lights

You struggle not to smile at the effect you have on him as your bob your head, exaggeratingly moaning to send vibrations down his cock and again, his hips jerk upwards at the sensation, and a guttural sound rips from the back of your throat as he accidentally chokes you with his sudden movements.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He repeatedly apologises to you, his hand coming down to affectionately smooth the back of your head, ringed fingers getting tangled in your hair and he tugs without realising when you hollow your cheeks around him, the burn on your scalp sending a shiver down your spine.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him once you take your mouth off of him to breathe, using your hand to continue jerking him off as you gaze up at him.

Matt struggles to keep his eyes open as he nods, untangling his fingers out of his hair to press his palm on your cheek, putting at your bottom lip and you lay a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb.

Matt smiles giddily at that, head lolling to the side and resting against the fogged up windows, breathing unsteady as he continues watching.

It completely erased from your mind that you’re currently giving Matt head in a public parking lot until you hear a distant car horn in the background, and usually, under any different circumstance, you would have stopped everything and asked to be driven away out of pure embarrassment from possibly getting caught.

But seeing the blissful look on Matt’s face, and how strangely nice it feels to have him in your throat, tasting him on your tongue, you don’t care.

You almost wouldn’t mind if anyone walked by and caught the two of you in this position.

“I think I’m gonna cum soon,” Matt breathes out heavily before his eyes widen. “Yeah, no—shit—you’re definitely gonna make me cum.”

“That’s okay.” You coo softly, giving him the sweetest smile before you swallow around him once again, tightening your throat around his cock and he grunts, his hand resuming its position on the top of your head again.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” The pet name sends you spiralling and your cunt clenches around nothing, arousal building in the pit of your stomach.

You move your head faster, working at a pace that has his thighs shaking. His cock fucks your throat raw and you can breifly hear him calling out your name, tugging at your hair slightly to get your attention and pull you off of him, but you resist and shove your head down further, the tip of your nose touching his navel.

“Fuck… do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around him for confirmation and Matt whines under his breath, voicing ‘you’re so hot’ as his hand falls from the top of your head to your free hand that’s resting on his knee for balance.

His fingers thread through your own, intertwining them tightly, thumb caressing over your knuckles in small circles, and the second you squeeze his hand back, to let him know that you’ve got him, he cums in thick spurts down your throat with a moan.

Matt’s thighs trembling beneath you, but you take no notice, too busy making sure you’ve swallowed every drop he’s giving you, sucking him dry until he’s physically unable to give you anymore and is begging for you to release him, too sensitive to continue.

His cock falls from your mouth with a wet plop and you sit up in your seat, taking a quick glance in the sun visor mirror like you had done earlier before, and you stifle a laugh at how you’ve definitely ruined your makeup this time.

You reach for your purse and open it up, grabbing a few facial makeup wipes that you carry with you and try to clean yourself up as best as you possibly can, even though there was no use.

Matt is panting heavily beside you, body twitching as he comes down from his high and he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regulate his breathing before he’s tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers.

He’s buttoning up his jeans, casting you a glance as he pulls up the zipper, watching as you finish completely wiping the smudged lipstick off of your lips and dabbing the mascara excess under your eyes.

“I think we missed our dinner reservation by the way,” You joke, a chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your phone to check the time. You did miss it. “Sorry.”

“That’s a shame,” Matt says, his voice dipping low. “I’m still hungry.”

You feel a little guilty, “We can go get takeout—”

“No. Not for that,” Matt immediately shakes his head and you turn to look at him. “I’m hungry for something else. Something better.”

“Better?” You repeat, raising your eyebrow suggestively as you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as the corner of your lips threaten to curl up into a smirk. “And what would that be?”

“You.”

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

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uluvjay · 1 year ago

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Transfer proof- L. Norris

Lando Norris x Influencer reader!

In which a makeup brand sends you a lipstick that claims to be 100% transfer proof and you need your boyfriends help to put it to the test

Warnings?; making out, hints to sex/oral, can’t think of anymore

Part of my 1k celly :)

“Hi guys! Today we are trying this liquid lipstick from the Brand Lynn’s beauty! This liquid lip claims to be one hundred percent transfer proof, vegan, and cruelty free!” You started smiling at your phone that was being held up by your tripod.

“I am going to be wearing this throughout the day and putting it up to multiple different test.” You explained.

Opening up the lipstick you gave it the basic smell tests, before applying.

“There’s no fragrance which I like, and it’s a beautiful red color so I’m very interested to see if it’ll actually hold up to its high claims! You smiled.

“I’m going to be putting it up to a few test! One will be how it lasts while eating, the second will be with drinks, the third will be how pigmented it stays through the day, and the last is to see how it lasts with kissing.”

You give a small goodbye and stopped the recording for the clip to be later added into a whole video, and set off the find Lando for his help.

“Lan baby?” You called to the man as you entered the living room.

“Yeah?” He smiled at the sound of your voice.

“I need your help with a video” you asked giving your best puppy eyes.

“Nope, not again. You’re not staining my face with whatever crap you have this time” he denied at the flashbacks of the last time you had brought him in for help.

“But I promise you’ll like this one!” You tried but all he did was shoot you a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m being serious, it includes one of your favorite things” you smiled as you sat next to him.

“What is it?” He groaned dramatically.

“I need you to make out with me” you spoke

“You need me to make out with you?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah! And it’s not funny, I’m trying to test out a lipstick and I need to find out if it’s kiss proof.” You explained

“Oh baby, you should’ve just said that in the first place. I’ll never turn down getting to kiss you” he smiled as he sat all the way up and pulled you onto his lap.

His hands immediately slipping under his shirt you sported as you made yourself comfortable on top of him.

“Thank you” you smiled.

“Anytime baby” he softly replied before dipping down and pressing his lips against yours.

You two sat like that for a while, lips attacking each others while his hands ran from your hair down your body and yours ran through and tugged on his soft curls.

All was well until you could feel him beginning to grind his hips up and his hands move up your back in attempt to unclasp your bra.

“Lando!” You scolded as you pulled away from him.

“What?!” The boy laughed

“I asked you to kiss me, not fuck me” you depended.

“You’re literally on top of me kissing me like your life depends on it! What did you expect from me?” He whined as you once again smacked his hands away.

“To not be a horny little shit for once” you laughed as you got off of him, not caring to mention the lipstick that had in fact transferred and now covered his lips.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To make lunch and test this lipstick out other ways” you called out behind you.

“But babyyy, I have plenty of other ways for you to try it out” he whined, getting up and following you to the kitchen.

“I’m not giving you head Lando!”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #jays1kcelly

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inkdrinkerworld · 28 days ago

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happy halloween, hope you're doing great!

if it isn't already taken, i think prompt 9 + spencer would be really cute

“Stop squirming, you’re gonna mess up your face paint!”

Spencer smiles as you squirm at the cold face paint over your nose.

“It’s cold, and it tickles.”

Spencer laughs then, kissing your lips that aren’t done yet. “Baby, you don’t squirm when you’re doing your make up, it’s almost the same thing.”

You shrug, “It’s different when someone else is doing it for you.”

Spencer and you are going as characters from the Wizard of Oz, you as Dorothy and him as the Scarecrow, but Spencer wanted a scary twist to your sweet characters.

He’s currently painting wounds onto your cheek and forehead, his own gashes already applied.

“I’m almost finished, you look adorable.”

You frown, your face relaxing when Spencer tuts. “I thought I was supposed to look scary?”

Spencer shakes his head, “Scary? No darling, you look a little gnarly but not scary.”

You pout, “Can’t I be a little scary?”

Spencer smiles, “I mean you could be, just not as Dorothy.”

You whine just as Spencer finishes up his artistry and he leans down a bit to kiss your lips. “Spencer I wanna be scary.”

He chuckles, “Maybe I just know you too well for you to be scary,” the words are whispered against your lips. “You’re as harmless as a mouse.”

You groan, tipping your head away from him making him chase your lips. “No kisses.” You decide, Spencer laughing as he tips your chin down towards him.

“None?” He asks, his nose nudging your own. You shake your head, “Oh I’m terrified, we’re going to go the whole night without one single kiss?” Spencer’s teasing you but you like the idea.

You smile, nodding. “The whole night, until I scare you.”

Spencer nods, kissing the hinge of your jaw. “I’m already scared, angel. I’ll die without a kiss,” he pulls away and mumbles, “So will you.”

“I won’t, you’ll see. You’ll suffer all night till I scare you and then you’ll be begging for a kiss.”

It doesn’t happen exactly happen the way you want it to, Penelope buys shots and three Long Island iced teas and you’re all over Spencer, red lipstick kisses sitting neatly on his face beside his faux scars.

If you don’t remember in the morning, Spencer will tell you that you did scare him and nothing else.

#spencerreid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #inkdrinker’s halloweek celebration

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ghostofhyuck · 9 months ago

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NCT Dream and the things that make them go insane (18+)

cw: suggestive, mentions of sex.

AN: Did I took inspiration from Xiaodery's 'Don't go insane' challenge? yes I did. Lol don't take this too seriously. Also minors dni!!!

Mark Lee ; random moans

Yes Mark, you're not the only one who makes random moan noises. You know that type of noises you make whenever you stretch your body? or when you're eating a delicious food? You're very vocal when it comes to making those kind of noises and sometimes it just caught Mark off-guard. It's not intentional but it reminds him of the sounds you make whenever you two have sex. Sometimes he tells you to not do it, and you'll innocently ask him why. He might not resist of taking you there, that's why.

Huang Renjun ; revealing clothes

LISTEN Renjun doesn't care what you wear. He's not very protective when it comes to your outfits since it's your body after all. BUT when you're practically naked around your apartment, he'll start praying for his life. You tend to be comfortable wearing just an oversized shirt and panties or maybe a tank top and cycling that shapes your body perfectly. But it'll have Renjun fighting his inner demons. (he loses it.)

Lee Jeno ; tight-fit clothes

Now this one is different. Jeno just couldn't resist it when you're wearing clothes that's tight-fit enough that it curves out your body, especially your boobs and ass. He'll stare at it the whole day and he'll be embarrassed when he catches himself looking at it. But there are moments where his hands will trail over your body when you're wearing those kind of clothes. Oh and he loves ripping it for some reason ??? especially your leggings, he'll just buy you more he convinces.

Lee Donghyuck ; random touches

Donghyuck will start questioning you whenever you touch him randomly. It'll be just innocent touches like his cheeks or squeezing his arms, but when you have your hands in his thighs, Donghyuck will just stare at you, "???" or when you unconsciously touched his abs trailing it up and down, his mind will go blank and start to think that you wanted something. It'll give him mixed signals and he'll end up horny though.

Na Jaemin ; wearing his clothes

At first he adores it, whenever you steal his hoodie and wear it. It's very wholesome and you look small in his clothes. But when you're just wearing his top over your panties, he just couldn't resist it. Jaemin thinks that you look hot in his clothes especially after a round of sex, he'll be fighting the urge to take it off from you and just fuck you again.

Zhong Chenle ; makeup

Chenle would probably love the idea of messing your makeup. He loves your red lipstick and thinks you're seductive whenever you apply lipstick and ends it with a pout, he would probably kiss you afterwards, the messy, aggressive type where your lipstick smudges all over you and him. Chenle probably indulged at the thought of how you put so much effort on your makeup and thought of ways of ruining it by making you writhe under his touch and cry because of the pleasure.

Park Jisung ; seductive dances

Oh Jisung will be astonished at the way you moved. Especially when you two are dancing inside a club, you'll be swaying your hips left and right, feeling the music and rhythm, Jisung would be hype by it but he'll go crazy as he watch you dance sexily in public. He'll be the type who'll hold you close to him as you grind against him and perhaps even make-out a little bit on the dance floor.

#nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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oneforthemunny · 1 month ago

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all dressed up |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie won't come to a halloween party with you, so you decide to go by yourself... in a costume you know he won't approve of. based off of this prompt :) thank you to whoever sent it in! you can read the rest of my spooky stories series here!

contains: smut. minors dni. language. dom/sub themes- really dom/brat themes lol. all pre-consented ofc. spanking, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex. daddy kink. eddie's a little more of a hard dom in this. mafia themes but nothing graphic.

You saw the mess of curls move behind you once, then again, snapping towards your frame with a fury that had you fighting back a shiver, trying to remain casual and unbothered, applying your lipstick on in the large vanity mirror.

"What are you wearing?"

Your lips pursed, rolling them to keep your own triumphant grin back. His tone, the sharpness and snapping of his words, eyes still boring at you through the mirror; you had him right where you wanted.

"A costume." You hummed, so casual it made Eddie's head spin. Your eyes finally met his in the mirror, calm and vacant of the usual bratty, defiant glare he was expecting. "It's Halloween, Ed. You're supposed to wear a costume."

Eddie's snort follows before you can finish your sentence, posture straightening just enough to look menacing, his own expression still calm but entirely unimpressed. "So you chose to wear that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, dramatic enough that you were sure he saw it- you wanted him to. "What's that supposed to mean?" You eyes narrowed, meeting his challengingly through them mirror, though you didn't turn around to face him.

Eddie nodded slowly, no signs of aggravation, or irritation even at your snarly mood. "Stand up f'me." His voice hardened, slipping into commanding that had your body jolting, eager to please. "Let me get a good look at you. See the whole thing."

You scoffed, despite the rush of excitement that was flooding red hot through your entire body, pushing your small stool back from the vanity. The dress barely covered your ass, resting just below the swell- dangerously short. Eddie's chest roared with possessive furious heat at the thought of you bending over, showing anyone what was between your legs, what belonged to him.

"You look pretty, baby." He didn't miss the way your shoulders fell, slumped with shocked disappointment. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm an angel." You batted your eyes sweetly, a purr to your tone that had Eddie's heart jumping.

"You sure are." Eddie matched your tone, effortlessly flirtatious, lips curling in a half grin.

"I don't have my wings and my halo on yet." You smoothed the white material of your dress down, smoothing out a wrinkle.

"You don't have your dress on either, do you?" Eddie cooed, his tone soft and light. You almost missed his question.

"Yeah I do." You frowned, looking down at your dress. "This is what I'm wearing."

"Oh, baby," Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's cute, but you're not going out in that."

"Yes, I am." Your voice was fierce, already snapping with fight.

"C'mon," Eddie scoffed with a slight smirk, rolling his eyes lightly like you were so silly, like it was a teasing joke you were playing on him. "You're not wearin' that out, sweet thing. Especially not with me not around. Go on and change into something else."

"I'm not changing." You huffed, nose scrunching with annoyance. "I'm wearing this, and if you don't want me wearing it without you, then you should come. Like you said you would."

Eddie nodded slowly, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. "I told you, baby, I can't come tonight-"

"-You don't want to come tonight." You snapped. "There's a difference."

"Hm," Eddie hummed, exhaling slowly, eyes still on you so fiercely you were beginning to squirm.

"You said you would come, Ed." Your voice teetered off into a whine, turning to him with pleading eyes.

The same fight you'd had for the past week, since Eddie pulled out of going to Nancy and Jonathan's Halloween party with you, claiming he was "too busy". You knew the truth. That he was uncomfortable being around your friends, people who might judge him, side eye him with fear when he came in.

"No one's going to care that you're there. You're coming with me." You pleaded, trying to rationalize with him.

"I told you, I'm busy." Eddie's tone clipped with harshness, eyes scanning over your frame.

Your lips pressed together, arms crossing over your chest in fury. "Fine." You snapped. "But I'm not changing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." You growled. "I like what I'm wearing, and I think other people will like it too." It was a low blow, one that you knew was risky, might send Eddie over the edge and break his calm exterior- which was exactly what you wanted.

He knew that, which is why he swallowed back the commanding bark in his throat, though you didn't miss the way his nostrils flared.

Nails tapping against your folded arms, your lips twisted. "I thought you'd like what I had on, too." Your tone was still harsh, but filled with an edge of a sultry purr at the end, hands sliding down your hips suggestively. "I thought you liked it when I dressed up for you."

You were definitely playing dirty now, you both knew it. But Eddie allowed it, allowed you to walk towards him, straddling his lap, legs spread and on either side of his spread thighs so your dress rode up, exposing the tiny, lacy white g-string underneath.

"Thought you liked it when I wore a little costume, hm?" Your nose was brushing his, lips tickling when they ghosted over his.

His jaw clenched to keep himself from breaking, to keep from kissing you and pinning you to the mattress, fucking you until you were a pliant mess under him, knees knocking when you walked afterwards, still leaking him down your thighs.

"I do like it." Eddie's voice was strained, swallowing back a flustered shake. "Love it when you dress up f'me, you know that."

You hummed, soft and airy, your hands wrapped around his neck, nails raking over his skin. "So come with me tonight. See me all dressed up." Your lips brushed over his, just light enough to drive him wild, have his hands twitching.

"You don't even have to dress up, Ed. Just come with me." You grinned, nipping at his bottom lip, smug at how his breath hitched. "I'll be dressed up enough for the both of us."

"Not in that dress, you won't." Eddie's eyes met yours, hard with challenge. "Told you, you're not wearing that dress out."

You blinked at him, scoffing before pushing back, sitting back on the tops of his thighs. Eddie couldn't help but look under your parted legs, lacy panties fully on display and barely covering your slit.

"Yeah? You won't be there to stop me from wearing it." You snarled, pulling your legs down onto the red carpet beneath you with a stomp.

"I'll wear whatever I want." You growled, standing between Eddie's legs, pushing the dress back down and into place, smoothing out the wrinkles. Your gaze met his, eyes narrowed with anger, a gentle snarl on your lips that told him your were about to say something mean.

"Maybe I'll find someone there who actually appreciates my costume." You turned with a scoff, barely stepping out from between Eddie's legs before a strong hand caught your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

A gasp tore from your chest, shocking realization flooding your system as Eddie hauled you over his knee, pinning each of your wrists to the small of your with his hand effortlessly.

"Wait! Wait! Eddie-" You squirmed frantically, trying to loosen his grip while he wasted no time shoving your dress up, leaving you bare in your tiny panties.

"Wait, no, I-I'll change, Ed. I was just- oh!" You squealed at the impact, his hand leaving a stinging impact on your left ass cheek.

Eddie didn't lecture you, didn't coo at you until you were sniffly and babbling while he spanked you. Instead, he stayed silent. delivering thundering hits to your backside, heavily focusing on the underside where your thighs met your ass- where he knew people could see the lasting handprints in your dress. It was calculated and mean, left your sniffling and wailing with each hit, shamelessly soaked and grinding onto his leg.

"I'll change! I'll change my outfit!" You wailed, hips lifting and thrashing to the right, trying to twist and avoid his burning assault on your ass.

"Stop it, Ed! I said I'll change!" You huffed, stomping your foot onto the ground, bratty and demanding. Eddie's cock strained behind his dress pants at the sound, delivering another hard spank to the center of your ass, that echoed through the room with a resounding clap.

"Stooop!" You whined, high pitched and nasally, wriggling in his grip. "You're gonna r-ruin my makeup!" You could feel the prickling of a sob threatening to take over, a floodgate that would be much worse than the few tears that had already slipped out.

"I'll be good! I'll change my dress! Ok? I will, Ed!" You howled at the next two blows, leaving your spine arching, lifting off the silk sheets.

"Look at me." Eddie finally spoke in a gravelly growl, his free hand catching your jaw, holding you up to look at him. Your eyes shifted to his, blinking back tears and fighting back wet, pitiful sniffles.

"You gonna listen to me now? Ready to be good for me?" Eddie's voice still wasn't in it's usual coo, but softer than before, leaving your lip wobbling.

"Yes," Your voice squeaked, teary though you tried to fight it.

"What do you say to Daddy?" Eddie lifted a brow, sternness still in his features. "For being so mean before, what do you say? Hm? What do good girls say when they've been mean and bad?"

"'M sorry." You muttered, eyes dropping from his gaze with bashful shame.

"Look at me." Eddie growled, hand tightening around your jaw lightly. "You know better. Need me to take you in the office, hm? Go get the paddle?"

"No," You tried to shake your head, stiffened by his grasp.

"Then what do you say? Let me hear you, loud and clear. And you better keep those eyes on me when you say it. You know how you're supposed to do it." Eddie's voice was harsh, enough to leave you shaking with fear and pleasure, throbbing between your legs. He didn't miss the way your hips rocked down on his leg when he spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry." Your pitch raised, voice wobbling when you spoke up, your eyes locked on his. "I won't be mean anymore, Daddy. I'll be good. I-I promise."

Eddie hummed, satisfied, his grip loosening on your cheeks, letting go of your hands. Your arms ached, wrist rubbed sore from the chafing of skin on skin. Eddie settled you back, perched on the edge of his thigh, fighting back a grin when you hissed at your raw backside touching his pants.

"That's a good girl. That's my good girl." Eddie cooed softly, pulling you into his chest, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. "You know I hate having to be mean to you like that, but you have to listen to my rules, baby."

"I-I know." Your hiccupy voice was soft, chest heaving with a cry you were still trying to swallow. "I just... I really want you to come with me tonight, Ed." You squeaked, tilting your head back to look at him.

"I know you don't want to, but... it would mean a lot to me if you did." You whispered, fingers nervously toying with the edge of his shirt. "I just want to be with you and my friends. I don't-I don't like it having to be separate all the time. I just want one night where- where it feels normal."

Eddie's chest ached, pulling you closer to him. He was going soft, he was sure of it. Soft and ruined completely by you- not that he minded.

"I'll go with you tonight." Eddie hesitated, eyes flickering down to yours carefully, watching yours fill with excitement, lighting up at his words. "But, I'm having Gareth and Max wait outside. In case any shit happens-"

"-It won't-"

"-Just incase." Eddie cut you off, giving you a pointed look that had you nodding, curling back into his hold. "And, you're still changing."

You bit back a smile, nodding. "Yeah, probably can't wear this now." You giggled lightly. "Kinda ruined it."

"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't ruined it yet." Eddie grinned, hand squeezing your waist just to hear you squeal before he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you.

"I do like this costume." His lips hovered over yours, curls from his bangs tickling your own forehead, leaving you squirming.

"But I think I want it," His lips pressed to yours, a full kiss that lasted far too shortly for your liking, eyes barely closing in pleasure before he pulled back.

"All," Kiss.

"To," Kiss.

"Myself."

You whined into his mouth, his thigh strategically moving between your legs, bumping with your clothed pussy, teasingly.

"You think you can do that for me?" Eddie's breath ghosted over your lips, dragging over your cheek, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Think this can be just f'me, baby?"

"Mm-hmm." You whimpered, hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him back towards you, closer and closer. "Just for you."

"Just for me." Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing barely, leaving you jumping with excitement.

"You do look so pretty though. My pretty girl, always." Eddie praised softly, pushing off the mattress to look at you fully. You whined, fist balling around his shirt, trying to keep him close, flush to you.

Eddie batted them away gently, his hands sliding down your frame to your legs, wrapped around his waist, spreading them gently. "I do think you should keep on these," Eddie rasped, finger tracing over your clothed slit, down the seam of your panties while you arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Please, Ed, please." You begged, mind already spacing with needy pleasure.

"Shh, I got you, baby. I'll take care of you." Eddie soothed you gently, hands cupping under your knees, pushing your thighs back to your chest. "I've got you, sweet thing. Just hold your legs up f'me. Can you do that?"

You nodded eagerly, shaking hands grabbing at your kneecaps, jerking them towards your chest in a tight grip. Eddie grinned, sliding down your frame, knees sinking into the carpet. "Good girl." Eddie growled, hands on your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed, grinning at how you gasped.

His fingers ghosted over your slit again, pressing in and giving a gentle, teasing rub over your aching clit that had you crying out, nails digging into your skin before he finally hooked your panties to the side. Tongue tracing down one lip, down the other, then right to the middle, just a featherlight, teasing that had you squirming in frustration.

You were close to voicing your frustration, the whine caught in your throat when Eddie's face pressed into your cunt, nose brushing with your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. Your hands moved to his hair, pulling him in closer and closer, hips swiveling down, pressing further and further into him. He didn't stop until you were crying out, breathy and broken, babbling on and on, "'m gonna cum, E-Eddie, I'm- oh!" music to his ears.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, stilling himself when he filled you, stuffed full of his cock, grinning at the glassy, love stricken look in your eye. "You are an angel, hm? The prettiest fuckin' angel I've ever seen."

Nails sinking into the mattress, you balled the silk sheets in your hand as he started to move, slow but deep rolls of his hips into yours. "I-I don't have my wings on." You babbled brainlessly, mind spinning and reeling with pleasure. "O-Or my- oh! Right there, Ed- Or my halo."

"Don't need it." Eddie sucked a breath in between gritted teeth, his strokes coming faster now, sending your eyes rolling back.

"You're always an angel. Prettiest- fuck- prettiest angel in the world. My pretty angel." Eddie reached for your chin, grabbing it so you looked at him through fluttering lashes. "You're my pretty girl. You know that? You know it, don't you, baby?"

"Ye-Yes." You clenched at his words, and for a moment, he saw stars, letting out a deep groan of pleasure.

"Let me hear you." Eddie's grip tightened around your jaw. "I wanna hear you say it. Say you're my pretty girl."

"I-I'm yours, Ed." Your head tilted back, tummy tightening as you teetered closer and closer to your orgasm.

The small slap to your cheek had you gasping, attention pulled back to Eddie. His brows furrowed, lips in a tight, concentrated line. "That's not what I said." Eddie shook his head. "Thought you were gonna listen to Daddy?"

"I-I am." You whined, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling Eddie in closer to you.

"Then do what I said." Eddie tilted his head towards you, looking down the slope of his nose at you. "Say it. I wanna hear you."

You bit back a whimper, gasping at a particularly perfect stroke that had your vision blurring. "I-I'm you're pretty girl."

"Who's pretty girl?" Eddie coaxed, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. His breath ragged, chest starting to heave- you knew he was close too.

"Y-Yours." You choked out, tears of pleasure brimming your waterline.

"That's right." Eddie growled, folding himself over top of you, lips catching yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slid between your bodies, circling your clit just right until you were writhing, scratching down his skin as you came undone, his own release following shortly after.

You were late to the party.

Not that either of you minded, really. And it wasn't like anyone there dared to say anything either. Even Nancy, who just gave you a wide smile when she opened the door.

"You made it!" She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry. We had to take the dogs out." You lied easily, eyes cutting over to Eddie's with a small smile.

Nancy's brow raised gently, though she said nothing. "H-Hey, Eddie." You didn't miss the way her grip tightened on the door, opening it wider so you two could walk in. "Glad you could come."

"Yeah. Thanks for havin' me." Eddie nodded, stiff with an unusual uncomfortableness. He felt awkward being in his street clothes- ripped jeans and chains, a band tee (a Dio shirt you claimed would be perfect- "a devil and an angel!"), instead of the usual designer wear he'd grown so accustomed to. He felt truly back in high school, just as nervous as he was then.

Your hand slid down the leather of his jacket, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Um, well, drinks and snacks are in the kitchen- you know where the kitchen is." Nancy looked at you with a nod, the music growing louder and louder as soon as you entered the house.

You followed her through the house, passing by the numerous people, ignoring how they'd stop, still, eyes wide and stare when Eddie passed, whispering in shushed tones behind your back.

"Help yourself to whatever." Nancy smiled, motioning to the array of alcohol. "I got you Bacardi Breezers, a whole pack." She gave you a teasing smile.

You laughed back, shaking your head, giving a slight shiver. "Oh, great. It'll be just like senior year all over again." You smirked. Eddie's interest piqued, though he kept his gaze nonchalant, scanning the room, making a mental note to ask you about that later.

"I'm gonna go make sure no one's broke anything, but I'll be right back." Nancy nodded, giving your arms a gentle squeeze, before shimmying through the crowds of people.

"You want anything?" You asked, reaching for the colorful glass bottle out of the pack.

"No." Eddie shook his head.

"Not even a beer?" You lifted a brow, turning back to him. "They have Miller."

"I'm good, baby." Eddie nodded sweetly, eyes catching with a guy who was staring, narrowing his gaze just barely before he looked aways. "You get whatever you want."

You looked over at him, twisting the bottle in your hand. "Can you open this?"

Eddie obliged, of course, cracking it on his belt buckle- a trick he learned from years ago, from when he still saw half of these people every day in the hell that was high school.

You took him to the living room, finding a corner tucked away from the beer pong set up in the middle, the people drunkenly dancing and chatting.

Eddie sat down in the small arm chair, hand around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You hissed, face crumpling for a moment, wiggling to a comfortable spot.

"You hurting?" Eddie frowned, head ducking towards you.

"No, I just forgot." You muttered, bashfully. "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?" Eddie lifted a brow.

"You know I would." You smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I think I like this dress better." You looked down at the long, silk, white dress you'd swapped the other out for. "Looks more angelic."

"Anything you put on looks angelic, baby." Eddie grinned playfully, positively sweet and silly. His face fell after a moment, scanning the room, looking to make sure no one was watching- he couldn't dare have someone see him like this, boyish and silly and so, so in love.

You giggled, pressing the bottle to your lips, taking a quick swig. "Thank you for coming with me." You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the feathers of your halo headpiece tickling chin.

"C'mon," Eddie muttered lightly, squeezing your hip. "Do anything for you, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie nodded, looking down at you. "You've ruined me. Made me soft."

You giggled, pulling back to look at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"For you? No." Eddie grinned softly. "Best thing that's ever happened to me. You know that."

You beamed under his praise, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into a sloppy make out right there in the corner of the party, and Eddie felt like he was sixteen again.

"You're so sweet." You hummed, starry eyed and airy when you pulled apart. "So good to me."

"You deserve it." Eddie muttered, cheeks pricking with a heat he couldn't fight off. "Plus, this isn't all bad. Better than I thought it would be." He looked around the room. You both seemed to blend in, get lost in the crowd now, everyone else doing their own thing while you watched.

"Really?" You grinned widely. "Told you it would be fun."

"Yeah, you were right." Eddie nodded, eyes rolling down your frame. "Plus you were right, I do love to see you in a costume." He growled, leaving you squealing with giggles.

971 notes · View notes

planetsano · 1 year ago

Text

synopsis ⌒ ⭑⭒ (name)! (name)! what’s it like being a water girl for blue lock 11? being the sweetest little mascot the whole team wants to put their cock in?

warnings ⌒ ⭑⭒ female reader, gang bang, orgy, group sex, double penetration (same hole, vaginal sex), anal sex, spit, oral sex (giving and receiving), squirting, mlm sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, love triangle, pining, very girly hyperfeminine reader, aged up characters, pro au, mdni.

pairing(s) ⌒ ⭑⭒ rin itoshi x reader x isagi yoichi (main), blue lock 11 x reader pairings, various x pairings.

word count ⌒ ⭑⭒ 11.2k.

Being Blue Lock 11’s water girl was honest work.

How (Name) got the job honestly wasn’t because of any credentials or any kind of degree to further her chances, but instead, she had a pretty face and the personality of a golden retriever puppy which made it very easy for her to become sort of a “personality hire.” Ego knew it was a position that had to be filled but he didn’t want to do it himself. The trivial and petty details needed to be taken care of and that’s exactly what she handles. Water Girl is the official title but these days you’ve almost become more like a personal assistant to the team in various ways.

(Name) has come a very long way since her very first day. It’s not that she was bad at her job per se— but she’s clumsy and a little.. airheaded. (Name) would often do things like trip over her own feet and send the things she was holding flying into the air. The sweet thing couldn’t help it too much. How could she? She was nervous and wasn’t the athletic type, never was, and never will be.

Now it’s been about a year since then and she’s a bonafide professional! Or so she likes to say.

Her morning started the same as any other, with the soft chimes of her pastel-colored alarm clock gently pulling her from dreamland. Stretching like a content kitten, she hopped out of bed, excited to start her extensive morning routine. The first stop was her vanity table, adorned with all sorts of makeup and skincare products. She giddily picked up her favorite rose-scented cleanser and began washing her face, humming a cheerful tune to herself.

After the refreshing cleanse, she moved on to the rest of her skincare routine, carefully applying toner, serum, and moisturizer, all infused with the latest beauty trends— she’s been on his K-beauty kick recently. With a smile, she looked at her glowing reflection in the mirror, already feeling ready for the day. Next came the fun part— makeup. She typically liked experimenting with different looks, and today’s theme was soft and flirty, with a touch of shimmer.

(Name) meticulously applied foundation, blush, eyeshadow, and a winged eyeliner. As the finishing touch, she added a glossy, bubblegum-pink lipstick to complete her signature look. She already had what she was wearing planned— her favorite pair of high-waisted, blush pink leggings that hugged her curves just right and a matching sports bra completed with a white, knitted cropped sweater. Simple, comfortable, and cute. There wasn’t much else to it.

(Name) was soon grabbing her car keys, the cutest keychain from her collection dangling from the D-ring. Her tote bag was slung over one shoulder, filled with her daily essentials like lip gloss, a compact mirror, a cute notebook, and her iPad. She held a large basket in her arms filled with goodies for the team. (Name) practically spent all night preparing everything! She worked hard on these cupcakes too.. they better enjoy them!

She headed out the door, hauling everything to her vehicle. As she approached her car, she couldn’t help but smile at the glossy black paint and the adorable heart-shaped air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. It looked significantly better after the repair— but it wasn’t her fault! That pothole was in her way.

Despite all that, she loved her car! Even though she wasn’t much of a car girl to begin with— decorating made her feel like she was driving in her little wonderland. However, she still needed to call her dad when the mechanic was speaking in literal tongues every time she went in for an oil change.

After loading everything into her car, she made sure to bring a tumbler of her favorite homemade French vanilla iced coffee, a protein bar in case she got hungry, and a playlist of her favorite songs ready to accompany her on the ride. As she buckled up and turned on the engine, she couldn’t resist taking a moment to check herself in the rearview mirror. Lip gloss tended to make its way on other parts of her face— so cute but messy at times.

Upon getting there, she types in the code to gain access to the training facility. The electronic lock emits a soft beep, and the heavy metal door slowly hisses open. Stepping inside, the air is noticeably cooler and filled with a faint hum of machinery. Fluorescent lights line the corridor, casting a sterile glow on the metallic walls. She made her way down the halls to her “office.” It was just a locker somewhere tucked away near the staff’s office.

Ego used to be able to tolerate her in his office but he ended up getting her area because he just couldn’t handle the chatterbox she was and the playful antics that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She was trouble and Ego was well aware. Her presence had a way of brightening up the most serious of situations and while some appreciated her for it, Ego found it a constant distraction. No matter how attractive she was.

Her locker was decorated with a collection of cute stickers, fairy lights, and a small potted plant. Fake, of course. She placed all her things in the space before heading to the team’s locker room. The automated light system turns on revealing rows of neatly arranged lockers, each placard with the team members’ names.

The hum of ventilation filled the air as she walked further in, her footsteps echoing off the polished tiles. The scent of fresh laundry and a hint of antiseptic cleaner lingered, creating a familiar and almost comforting atmosphere. She knew that within these walls, victories were celebrated and defeats were dissected. As she glanced around, memories of past games and silly stories flooded her mind, a small smile gracing her lips.

(Name) made her way through the rows of lockers, the soft, ambient light from the overhead fixtures casting gentle shadows. All boys got their small gift bag with items that were tailored to their personal preferences plus a cupcake she spent all night baking herself.

After that was all done, she grabbed the clipboard ornate with all sorts of cute stickers courtesy of her and notes scribbled on by the team with Blue Lock’s logo etched into the back. She went over the checklist for the day, as she stepped out of the locker room. It only took a few strides down the hallway to get to the equipment room, where a manicured finger grazed over assignment number one.

The first item on the list was to prepare the team’s water bottles. It usually consisted of making sure to fill their bottles with fresh, ice-cold water and lemon and then arrange them neatly in a cooler outside. Also filling up a “refill station” cooler that the team could use throughout practice.

It wouldn’t have been so much of a pain if it didn’t have been carried to the training field.

“Oh great.” She pouted softly. She had to do this all by herself? She can lift it but did she want to? No, her nails don’t have insurance. She looked at her Apple watch with furrowed brows, one of the early birds should be arriving soon...

“You need to stop leavin’ us this sugary shit all the time, princess,” Raichi says. He’s leaning up against the wide door frame, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the pink frosted cupcake up to his lips. Half of it is gone, clearly signaling he started devouring it on his way to the equipment room where she was.

“Jingo,” (Name) breathes out his name in a sugary and needy cadence— relief. Her voice is sweet like honey to Raichi’s ears but he’ll never say it to her face. There’s just something about the way she says his name that scratches a certain part spot in his brain and in return he finds himself feeling a particular way. He’s prickly because he’s 50/50 in his thoughts about her. On one hand, he’s almost certain that she knows exactly what she’s doing, and he can’t stand that her charms have this much of an effect on him. On the other hand, he’s not sure. There’s this doubt that she knows her effect and it pisses him off to no end that he can’t fully read her intent.

Usually, he can easily deem someone an “asshole” or not but when he looks at her, all Raichi is met with are these pretty eyes and he doesn’t see any hidden intent. It’s quite the opposite and in return, it evokes feelings of wanting to protect her. Raichi is quite the.. character though, everything must be difficult with him. It’s just in his chaos-inducing nature. His mental process is: she can’t not know how hot she is but there’s also this… air about her that makes people compelled to feel endeared by her. Simply making the notion of her using her visuals to essentially influence people to get what she wants goes against why the guys can’t help but dote on (Name).

He watches her stance as she dusts her hands together before aimlessly wiping her palms on the material of her pale pink Spanx. The look on her face screams damsel in distress— pretty pout on her glossy lips and her brows pinched in a furrow. (Name) didn’t catch what he said to her previously, clearly wrapped in her little conundrum of how she was going to get this to the field by herself before practice started.

“Can you help me, pretty please? It’s too heavy to lift on my own.” She says. He chooses to stay silent, merely looking at her with slightly raised brows as he finishes the last of the pink velvet dessert in his hand.

“Please? I made you cupcakes!” (Name) stomps her foot a bit, finding herself a little frustrated because her time was ticking and practice was starting in less than thirty minutes at this point. Ego liked to give her a hard time about her time management, even going as far as to mention a replacement if she “couldn’t get her act together.” It was an obvious scare tactic, he was just annoyed with her performance as it was not up to his standards. Everything under Ego’s ship had to be executed to his liking and he wouldn't settle for less.

“You made everyone cupcakes.” He deadpans as he balls the wrapper up and tosses it into a nearby can. His eyes trail back to hers after the fact.

“But that one was special because it had your name on it and I made it specially for you.” He can’t lie, she’s adorable. The way her demeanor is in the moment, slowly becoming more and more frustrated with his lack of cooperation. Not to mention the way she misuses the word— something she’s been saying for a while in the way she uses it so confidently.

“Specially?” He questions, pushing off the door frame so he can enter the room in its entirety. “It’s especially, you ditz.” He closes the gap between them, only leaving a couple of centimeters between their respective frames, and (Name) feels like she can feel his body heat radiating from him, she was always convinced that his blood ran hot just like his temperament. She doesn’t budge though, only continuing to stand her ground with the cutest little scrunched-nose smile. She was attempting to hold it back which made Raichi offer her the smallest bit of a smirk.

(Name) was a flirt and she was good at it.

“Move out of the way.” He mumbles surprisingly softly, his head tilted downward as he looks at her. He does so until he tears his eyes from hers to finally get his hands on the water cooler. Now that he has it, he sees that it may have been too heavy for her to carry by herself. Raichi lifts it with ease though, his biceps contracting as he does so. “Come on, I’m not hauling this shit outside for you by myself.”

As they walk side by side with each other down the empty hallway, Raichi’s eyes begin to drift to her more than he’d like. In the brief moments that it happens, his golden-yellow irises study his favorite parts of her face. The long lashes that seemed to flutter upon her upper cheeks with every blink she took, the cutest nose that she liked to put the tiniest bit of blush on, her pouty lips that were tinted with a light cherry shade— it made Raichi sick the way she so effortlessly made him feel. Despite her looks, there had been something irritating him; something that had been on his mind for a while he just couldn’t shake. Raichi was never the type to beat around the bush and become passive in his feelings. He would address this eventually when they’re met with the field.

The blond places the water cooler down in its designated spot at the end of the benches where the paper cups had been already placed.

“Hey,” Raichi calls for her, his expression unreadable as he looks at her.

“Hm?” (Name) looks at him with curiosity, her hands shading her eyes from the sun and her lips parted slightly.

“Is it true you’re fuckin’ Isagi?” He has no shame in the question but it really shouldn’t have been much of a shock from his lack of general etiquette to begin with.

“You! Are such a guy, Jingo!” She says incredulously, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder.

“What? It’s a question.” His brows are low, not finding an ounce of humor in his query.

“Isagi is sweet.” She responds.

“That ain’t what I asked you.” Raichi raises a brow.

“Why does it matter, huh?” (Name) lets out a little laugh, tilting her head a bit.

“It matters because I’m askin’ you.”

By this point, it was no real secret that quite a few of the guys harbored feelings for (Name) over time. She was just too good at what she did. Her bubbly personality and genuine kindness leave an endless trail of admirers in her wake.

The way she interacted with each member of the team made them feel special as if they were the only ones in the room. Her charisma was magnetic and drew people in effortlessly. Her “innocent” flirtations, the playful twinkle in her eyes, her infectious laughter— it had a way of making the guys’ hearts race.

“Oi, oi, oi. Less talking, more working.” Tabito whistles at the two as he approaches them, a few more boys trickling in behind him.

“Shut up, dickwad.” Raichi quips.

“No fighting, please.” (Name) sighs as she lifts a sheet on her clipboard.

“Hey.” Tabito’s voice rang out as he sauntered over to where (Name) stood not too far from Raichi.

She glanced up, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Hi, Tabito.”

He stretched his arms outward casually, his arms folded across his chest. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Mmm, nothin’—” (Name) replied with an innocent shrug, her eyes sparkling upward at him as she grinned down at her.

Raichi rolls his eyes at the interaction, choosing to lace up his cleats. His nasty expression contradicted the light-hearted banter in the room. He watched as (Name) and Tabito exchanged playful words, his gaze flickering between them and the task at hand.

As the banter continued, Raichi’s mind wandered back to the countless moments he had witnessed between (Name) and the other guys on the team. He couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at him, though he did a good job at keeping his emotions hidden behind his rough exterior. It seemed as though it were the Hunger Games when it came to (Name), and she was the prized gem whether she realized it or not. Raichi had a hunch that he wasn’t the only one who’d been smitten with this broad— for a while.

The boys continued to trail in one by one, sometimes in pairs like Reo and Nagi. But (Name) continued to do her daily checklist without issue as they all became settled— doing warm-ups until Ego showed up.

Practices were usually easier to handle than official games. It’s understandable; there’s high pressure and strain put on the players which essentially makes (Name)’s job, a real job. Tending to their personal needs was all that mattered as far as she was concerned. She had witnessed the team’s transition from practices to official games countless times, each time realizing just how much pressure and strain the players were under. Her role extended beyond just providing physical support; she was there to offer emotional support as well, ease pre-game nerves, and make sure that each player was mentally prepared to give their best on the field. Men are typically.. less in tune with their emotions than women are. It helps.

(Name) had taken on the role of the Blue Lock’s unofficial mascot because of this, particularly in Bachira’s eyes. However, there was a not-so-subtle undercurrent of aggression amongst some of the guys and Bachira. he had a way of hugging and showering her with affection that seemed innocent and endearing, but those who knew him well were aware that he knew exactly what he was doing. He expertly played the role of an adorable puppy causing a bit of mischief— something everyone adored, yet his intentions were akin to a mischievous younger sibling sticking their tongue out at their older sibling behind their mom’s back, knowing full well the game he was playing.

“(Nickname)!” Bachira says in a sing-song tone as he approaches from behind, covering her eyes with his hands. He gives her a cute smile as he looks at her from over her shoulder. “Guess who?”

“Bachi?” Her little name for him makes his heart skip a beat, an excitable giggle leaving his lips as he uncovers her eyes. She turned to face him and couldn’t help but smile as Bachira enveloped her in a warm embrace, their cheeks pressed together in a hug. His personality was contagious, and his affectionate demeanor always managed to tickle her spirits.

“Pretty, pretty girl~♡” Bachira’s playful tone made her smile softly, the endearing nickname earning a sweet laugh from her. She takes his face into her hands, smiling as she squishes his cheeks together.

“Weren’t you supposed to tone your hair a couple of days ago?” (Name) teased, an amused glint in her eyes as she ran a hand through his bangs— the color still a brassy yellow shade.

Bachira’s expression turned sheepish, and he scratched the back of his head with a bashful grin. “Ah, yeah, about that… I kind of forgot about it~ I need your help. I’m not good at this stuff like you. Come over and help me.” Before she could answer, she’d been cut off by a familiar voice.

“Come over without me too, Meguru? Cheating on me right in front of my face?” (Name) and Bachira both turned to find Isagi, walking over with a small smile on his face.

“Yoichi! Hi,” (Name) said, her voice sounding almost dreamlike as she greeted him. Her heart raced in her chest as she looked at him, but she couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement wash over her— good and tingly feelings all over.

No doubt about it, Isagi held a special place in her heart. Raichi's intuition was spot on, their bond was undeniable. They enjoyed their time together; both.. inside and outside the bedroom. However, it wasn't an official relationship per se. They danced on the fine line between friendship and something more, both enjoying the freedom that came with it.

Honestly, it was a connection built on physical attraction initially, and over time a genuine care for one another formed, making it all the more sticky especially for (Name) for.. various reasons. Isagi was the kind of person who could effortlessly bring a smile to her face and warmth to her heart, she felt like she was a little girl in school again. Something exciting to keep her anticipating what’s to happen next. It also helped that Isagi was cute as a button.

It happened at an after-party of a press conference nearly half a year ago— the drinks had been going and the two had gotten very close as the night progressed. All it took was a single look at him through her lashes and one too many flirty touches left on his arms and chest. He asked if she wanted to leave early and she agreed without a second thought. Of course, they played it off nicely, leaving not at once but one by one about ten minutes apart. Isagi fucked all her sorrows away, leaving both of them tangled into the sheets breathless. It’s been like this ever since but, Yoichi does have plans.

“Don’t hog (Name) all to yourself!” Bachira punched his shoulder, his tone had a teasing lilt to it.

“I don’t hog her, you little..-” Isagi reached over to put him in a light headlock, the both of them giggling and playing like they were still kids at recess. She smiled as she looked on at the two, feeling grateful that they found each other when they did.

(Name) looked over her shoulder and happened to lock eyes with the ever-so-brooding captain of the team: Rin Itoshi. Her smile falters a bit, brows pinched in a displeased furrow as a heavy feeling settles in her chest, leaving her feeling a bit helpless. She didn’t like the feeling— she didn’t like it at all. She was a relatively happy girl who didn’t like being taken out of character, she prided herself in that.

“So, (Name), are we helping Bachira with his hair today?” Isagi asked, his curiosity piqued. His voice held a hint of playfulness, but underneath, there was a trace of vulnerability. He’d been testing the waters—wanting to see whether or not he could crash this little “private party.”

As he spoke, Isagi’s eyes flickered between (Name) and Bachira, trying to gauge their reactions. His grin, although friendly, was subtly tinged with an edge. It wasn’t just curiosity driving him; it was jealousy that simmered just beneath the surface. In the moments that followed, Isagi’s body language revealed more than just his words. He subtly moved closer to (Name), not wanting to be left out of the conversation or, more importantly, her attention.

“Huh..?” She turns her head back to Isagi and Bachira, shaking her head as if she’d been trying to snap out of something. But Isagi had already noticed that she seemed off like she was bothered by something or rather someone.

“Oh, sure— if Bachi doesn’t mind.” There’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. By this point, Bachi managed to wriggle free of Isagi and made his way over to talk to Nagi and Reo who weren’t too far from where they stood.

“Hey,” Yoichi calls for her gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course! I’m okay.” She answers as she nods her head. Her smile seems more genuine this time, not like before a few seconds ago. Maybe she’s managed to suppress whatever she had been feeling— a fleeting wave of emotion only elicited by a trigger.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, his voice lowering an octave or two. He just barely takes a step closer, pretty blue eyes filled with worry.

“No, Isagi,” she answered delicately, her fingers nervously twirling a strand of her hair. “Why would I be upset with you?”

Isagi's concern deepened as he noticed her anxious gesture. He reached out, gently touching her arm. “Just making sure..”

(Name) glanced down at his hand on her arm, a fleeting moment of comfort in his touch. She sighed and looked away, her gaze fixating on a nearby bench.

“Is it about him?” Isagi asked.

“What?” Her brows furrowed and she followed his gaze to the distant figure of Rin. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Is it about him?”

“I'm not talking about this right now, Isagi,” (Name) replied, her eyes returning to Isagi's, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. They were narrowed, threatening him silently. It had been an almost incredulous expression as if she couldn’t believe that he was choosing to carelessly bring this up right now of all times. Isagi was a smart boy, he knew to leave it. (Name) kept a leash on him in a way, despite the sweetness of her demeanor and face— she was capable of having a mean streak.

As the team was immersed in their practice drills, the words hung in the air like an unspoken echo.

“Isagi!” Reo calls him over, both her and Isagi looking over to where the trio stood.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Isagi says, his lips pressed together in a tight line as he gives her a final glance before jogging away.

(_ _ ) . . z Z

The training facility buzzed with energy as the team went through their practice drills, Blue Lock’s technology seamlessly integrated into every aspect of their training. The walls of the facility were adorned with holographic screens that displayed real-time data and strategy simulations. The air was filled with a familiar sense of intensity only they understood as the team, focused on honing their skills for the upcoming game.

As the practice session neared its end, (Name) caught sight of Ego observing from a distance. He stood by a large holographic display, analyzing the players’ performance metrics. They managed to exchange eye contact which is when Ego signaled to (Name) to come where he stood. She nodded in acknowledgment and made her way past the field. She’ll never get over just how tall he is in comparison to her as she practically cranes her neck to look up at him.

“See me in my office in five minutes.” He requested, adjusting his glasses further onto his face with his middle finger. Ah, he was so intimidating sometimes— especially when his glasses had a glare. Ego was nice enough to her though, even if he was a little scary.

“Okay!” She nods quickly as he dismisses himself, barely giving her enough time to acknowledge his request.

Reo had been watching the exchange from a distance and couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her— he walked over a piece of minty gum being chewed by his pearly whites. With a grin, he asked, “In trouble?”

(Name) giggled at his words. “I hope not,” she replied.

He leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, if you need someone to come to your rescue, you know where to find me,” he said, popping his gum. “You know how intense Ego can be.”

She matched Reo’s gaze, tilting her head, and offered a gentle pat on his cheek. It was how seemingly ignorant she was about little things like eye contact; a historically intimate, sometimes even taboo action. Reo recognized that he was flirting quite openly, fully aware of it. However, her natural charm had him feeling somewhat.. disoriented one could say. He’s almost certain that she wasn’t picking up on his advances but rather, she was just being herself. Reo felt like he was out of his league, realizing he needed to step up his game to get his point across.

“I'll remember that,” she replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. As Reo pondered how to navigate her, (Name) continued the conversation with a hint of innocence that seemed to come naturally to her.

“So, Mr. Shining Armor,” she began, a playful twinkle in her eye, “If I ever need, like, an alibi or something, you’d totally have my back, right?”

Reo grinned. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’d hire you a lawyer if you really needed it, but you’re a good girl, no? You wouldn’t even need an alibi to begin with.”

A playful pout formed on (Name)’s lips as she huffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot in playful protest. “Says who! I can hang with the best of them!”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ve got about two minutes to get to Ego’s office.” He says matter of factly.

“What! You’re lying!” Her demeanor shifted to one of mild panic as she glanced at the time on her wristband. With a swift and almost comical spin, she hurriedly dashed off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. “I’ll talk to you soon!”

She made her way to Ego’s office, knocking briskly before letting herself in. His office was a blend of sleek design and advanced functionality. The walls had the same interactive screen she had seen earlier. The AI was amazing, she had never seen anything like it until she landed this job. It was capable of anything it seemed, projecting game footage, tactical analysis, and real-time player stats that all just scratched the surface of it. Ego pulled up her “profile” one day, it had information that she didn’t even give consent to give out. Weird? Yes, but she’s seen worse since she started here.

As she entered, the screens adjusted to her presence, dimming slightly as if they were on standby mode. Ego stood at his desk, which was more like a command center with all of the digital interfaces and gesture controls. He motioned for her to take a seat, and she obliged, settling into a chair near to his own. Ego’s gaze met hers, his usually stern expression softened slightly by the bluish hues of the various screens.

“I wanted to talk to you about something important, (Name).” She listened attentively as Ego spoke to her.

“A very important game is near, so I need you on your A-game, (Name),” Ego said, making her furrow her brows just a bit in curiosity. “Yes, you’re the appointed water girl; however, you’ll also have other duties such as acting as an.. on-call personal assistant of sorts. I need you to keep them happy and stress-free no matter how ridiculous their requests are.”

“Requests?” She blinks at him and tilts her head.

“Yes.” He didn’t seem as though he was willing to explain. Ah, of course. Ego never liked to be questioned anyway.

She let out a sigh but her usual warm smile appeared once again as she reassured him, “You can count on me, Ego! ” A cute smile grew on her lips, and she saluted him playfully. Ego’s eyes rolled at the gesture, though a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

“Alright, enough theatrics,” he said, his stern exterior softening just a touch as he adjusted his frames. “I trust you, (Name).”

(_ _ ) . . z Z

The final whistle blew on the starry-lit soccer field, the tension of the intense match at an all-time high as Blue Lock emerged victorious. The crowd roared with excitement and the stadium lights illuminated the scene like a grand stage. The team had just delivered a performance for the ages. The players had gathered in the center of the field, their eyes still shining with the intensity of the match— the pure satisfaction and euphoria coursing through their veins. It felt as though the energy surrounding them had been visible, deep blue. Signifying power, confidence, and authority. All things that they had been representing in that very moment as they went home with the win, the opposing team had long since exited the field leaving Blue Lock to celebrate amongst themselves.

They all exchanged sloppy hugs and high-fives, congratulating each other on a game well played— jumping on each other and dog piling on top of one another.

Isagi couldn't tear his gaze away from (Name) who had been working just as tirelessly throughout the game— an essential presence on the sidelines throughout the night. Her eyes sparkled with pride and admiration as she watched them all celebrate their triumph. Her hands had been interlocked with Anri’s own as they cutely jumped with each other. Both were so excited as Ego stood not too far next to them looking as pleased as he possibly could look for him, his hands had been placed in his pockets with an odd posture. It’s not long before he’s exiting himself amongst all the chaos.

Amid the post-game frenzy, Isagi felt an overpowering surge of emotion. Ignoring the paparazzi cameras and the cheering crowd, he made his way to (Name) on the sidelines. He had no clue what he was doing, his feet seemingly moving on their own as he grew closer and closer to where she stood.

With the world as their witness, he gently took her by the hand and pulled her close, their hearts beating in sync but her reasoning with the excitement of the victory and Isagi’s because he was about to put everything on the line.

“Isa..?” (Name)’s voice has always been sweet but he thought it sounded more sugary when she said his name.

With the stadium lights casting a halo around them, Isagi looked deeply into (Name)’s eyes and was swept away by the heat of the moment: he kissed her. Time seemed to stand still as they locked lips.

As Isagi closed the gap between them, his breath hitched, and he could feel the warmth of (Name)’s breath on his lips. Their faces drew nearer, eyes closing in unison, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. His hand, trembling ever so slightly, cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing her skin as he tilted her head gently.

(Name)’s lips were soft and inviting, meeting his with a tender, tentative touch. It was a gentle exploration, like two puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit. Isagi’s heart raced as he felt the electric spark of their connection. He could taste the sweet excitement of the victory on her lips, mixed with the saltiness of the sweat on his lips from the intense game.

Their mouths moved in perfect harmony, a dance of love and longing. Isagi’s other hand found its place on the small of (Name)’s back, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed together, fitting like two halves of a whole.

The kiss deepened, and their tongues met— a gentle and passionate duel as if they were pouring every ounce of their emotions into this single, stolen moment.

As their lips moved in sync with one another, a hush seemed to fall over the stadium, even amidst the continued celebrations. The two were lost in the intensity of their kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the heat of the moment.

The paparazzi were momentarily stunned by this unexpected display of affection but they quickly recovered, cameras capturing the raw, unfiltered emotion that flowed between one of the star players and the sweet little water girl. The team began to realize what was happening soon after, confused looks on some, angry expressions on others, and a few who just seemed to be happy for Isagi. The stadium had long since erupted in a new wave of cheers and applause.

Isagi eventually pulled away from her lips, breathless and flushed but wearing a smile that spoke volumes.

“Yoichi..?” She blinks up at him, finding it hard to process what had just happened and more importantly, what it all means. “What was that?”

“I want everyone to know that I want you.” He confessed.

The aftermath of Isagi and (Name)’s intimate moment hung in the air, a delicate whisper during the fading cheers in the stadium. However, the serene atmosphere shattered abruptly as (Name)’s desperate cries pierced through the celebratory echoes. The transition from the warmth of the kiss to the chilling urgency in (Name)’s voice unfolded like a sudden storm.

“Rin—! Rin you’re hurting me! Rin Itoshi! Let me go!” The harsh urgency in (Name)'s voice resonated through the narrow hallway, her plea filled with both physical pain and emotional distress. She struggled to keep her footing, her feet almost stumbling as she tried to keep up with Rin's determined strides. The locker room loomed ahead, its cold, metallic door reflecting the dim light from a flickering overhead bulb.

Rin’s face was a tumultuous sea of emotions. Anger and frustration bubbling at the surface that almost always remained cool and collected, made him deaf to the celebration’s distant echoes. His fingers clamped around (Name)’s upper arm like an unyielding vice, pulling her along a path she desperately wished to escape from. The last thing she wanted was to fight but it was clear that not only had the festivities been forgotten in Rin's mind, but any chance of him enjoying them had been cruelly dashed. Not like he was the celebration type anyway.

The tension crackled like static electricity in the space between them. Despite the lingering thrill of the victory, the atmosphere inside the locker room weighed heavily upon them, contrasting sharply with the post-game excitement. Amidst the disarray of his teammates’ gear, Rin’s voice dripped with frustration as he confronted (Name).

“You, should really fucking know better, (Name).” Rin’s penetrating gaze remained fixed upon her, the tension palpable between them. (Name) looked upset and disheveled as looked up at him, never once backing away from his gaze. She shot back with a voice trembling with exasperation and frustration, “What do you want me to do, Rin? You don't want to be my boyfriend, but you get angry with me when I get attention from someone who actually wants to be with me! In public!”

Rin's jaw clenched and his brows furrowed in response to her words— clearly, she’s been talking about Isagi. Rin wasn’t stupid, not that they had been trying to hide it well to begin with. “Isagi of all people.”

(Name) couldn't contain her anger any longer, her voice raising as she spoke. She made sure to point a mean finger at him, poking his chest as she did so. “Don't talk about him like that. As if you treat me better than him. You’re crazy!”

Just as the tension reached its height, the locker room door swung open, revealing bewildered-looking teammates as they all trickled into the room. They heard a commotion coming from inside and decided to investigate. Although they had all been listening piled on top of each other seconds before Isagi finally pushed through.

“Did we walk in on somethin'?” Raichi asked. (Name) and Rin exchanged conflicted glances, gazes torn between the intensity of the game and the unresolved issues in their relationship. Rin looked particularly unbothered by the exchange though, it should be a talent with how he can keep his demeanor a thorough constant even in the most stressful situations. Most of the time.

“Yes!” (Name) exclaimed, but Rin quickly retorted. “No,”

“What’s going on?” Isagi asked, closing the gap between him and her. He had a worried look on his face as he looked down at her.

“Nothing, we just had a discussion is all.” She answered.

“No. Let them know what’s mine is mine.” Rin stated, causing her heart to skip a beat. She hated that— her heart often betrayed her brain so often, especially when it came to Rin. She was mad at him!

“Excuse me?” Isagi tilted his head, brows furrowed as he took a step closer in Rin’s direction.

“Please, not right now. We just won a big game..” (Name) said, her voice carrying a heavy solemnity as though she were deeply concerned. She absolutely couldn’t stand when they fought. When any of them fought, really. Rin’s jaw clenched again, but he refrained from saying more for the moment, his gaze locked onto Isagi. It’s at that moment when Rin takes his hand and grabs a hold of her face, turning her head towards him and planting a sloppy kiss right on her mouth— an act that shows his possession of her.

The locker room fell silent as they watched this display of affection, leaving everyone, including Isagi, momentarily stunned.

(Name) blinked in astonishment, her cheeks hot, and her heart raced. She didn’t expect such a public display of affection from Rin, especially during their argument. His actions spoke volumes, and despite the tension that had filled the room, there was a sense of raw passion in that kiss.

Rin finally pulled away from the kiss, his intense gaze still locked onto (Name), as if daring anyone to challenge his claim. It was a bold move, one that left no doubt about his feelings, even if it had created an even more complicated situation.

(Name), her voice shaky but filled with a mix of emotions, whispered to Rin, “You didn’t have to do that..”

In a bold move of Isagi’s own, he closed the distance between himself and (Name), taking her face gently in his hands, and he leaned in to kiss her. The locker room seemed to hold its breath as Isagi’s lips met (Name)’s in a tender kiss.

Isagi felt his body respond immediately to her kiss, his cock hardening against his leg. He could feel her soft lips pressing against him, and he could hear her whine softly into the kiss. Maybe it’d been the heat of the moment, but being watched— having all eyes on him as he essentially marked his territory had him reeling. It felt similar to being on the field.. having someone feel threatened by his very sense of self only for him to claim the goal as his. This felt no different.

“I—” (Name) stood in the center of the room at a loss for words, her heart torn between the two men who both held a special place in her life. She could feel the intensity of the emotions radiating from Rin and Isagi, their heated argument having morphed into something far more complex. The situation had already taken an unexpected turn, and the tensions between Rin and Isagi were undeniable. Rin reached out for (Name) but Isagi acted on the same instinct— both of the men simultaneously closed the distance between themselves and (Name), their lips meeting hers in a kiss that’d been rather rough and unpoetic.

The room descended into a breathless hush as the trio partook in an impassioned, electrifying kiss. It was a tempest of emotions and longings, where Rin and Isagi’s competitive spirits transcended the realm of sport, now manifested in the fervor of their lips upon (Name)’s. Each kiss was an assertion of ownership, a silent declaration of their claim on her heart.

Unspoken desires smoldered beneath the surface, like coiled embers ready to ignite. Both Isagi and Rin may have carried a secret yearning for one another, one that was concealed beneath the shadow of their shared affection and feelings for (Name) and their ongoing rivalry. Perhaps it was a whirlwind of emotions, a silent tug-of-war between jealousy and attraction. Neither dared utter the truth if there were any, and yet deep down there existed an unspoken curiosity about what it would be like to bridge the divide that separated them.

Past the competition, their emotions churned frequently with high ups and low lows. With frustration intertwined, it blurred the fine lines that separated friendship and rivalry. Hours spent together on and off the soccer field had woven a tapestry of connection, a bond that transcended the boundaries of just being teammates but friends. The bond, though sometimes frayed by the throes of their shared affection for (Name), added another intricate layer of complexity to their relationship. It was as if they constantly teetered on the precipice of something more. But truthfully? Neither of them wanted to even entertain the thought. Or so they tell themselves.

The remaining teammates were initially taken aback, exchanging enigmatic glances among themselves. Some wore the cloak of astonishment, while others concealed their intrigue behind veils of confusion. A few remained adrift in the sea of uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate the tempestuous waters of this unexpected turn.

The locker room that was once heavy with tension and discord, had metamorphosed into a simmering crucible of passion and desire. The air itself seemed to shimmer with the intensity of their emotions, like molten steel in a crucible, forging something new from the raw elements of longing and affection.

The taste of desire and longing hung heavy in the air, and what had begun as a spontaneous act was now evolving into something far more passionate and consuming. As the trio’s kiss deepened, the locker room seemed to pulse with an almost palpable energy. The boundaries between all of them blurred, and for that suspended moment in time, it seemed as though everyone knew where this was heading.

Rin’s hands moved to cup her breasts upward, pushing them together before harshly pulling down the babydoll pink top to expose her bra.

“R—! Rin!” It was similar to a chirp, the way (Name) said his name. She looked breathless with her lips glossy with a mix of both Rin and Isagi’s DNA— oh, shedding flustered. Like a sweet little rabbit who got her cottontail pulled by a big bad wolf.

“Shut up.” Is the only thing he muttered into her neck as his large hands continued to grope her.

“Is this really okay, Captain?” Isagi asked, blue irises narrowed deliberately trying to evoke an emotion out of Rin by using his title.

Rin pulled away from her, his chest heaving as he met Isagi’s intense gaze. “It’s not like they haven’t been thirsting after her like mutts.” Rin retorted his voice low and possessive, a defiant challenge in his words.

Rin’s next response was a sly, almost wicked statement. “Give them a show,” he whispered, his words laced with provocation as he locked onto Isagi's gaze, fully aware of the effect his words would have on their audience.

The next moments for (Name) seemed to blur into a haze. Time lost its meaning as she found herself caught between Rin and Isagi— Isagi’s hand found its way to her throat from where he stood behind her. Slender fingers wrapped around her delicate and sensitive neck while Rin’s hands roamed.

“Look at what you did..” Isagi presses his erection into her, his thick shaft snug against the pillowy softness of her ass.

“Yoichi..” She gasped softly, brows furrowed as she was directed to look upward.

“Yoichi..” Isagi mocks her softly, his own voice going up an octave. “Shh. You’re real quiet..” Isagi whispers directly into her ear, his breath hot and shaky as he speaks to her in a lower tone— his words sending a shiver down her spine. His tone, honeyed in arousal and heat, carried a note of urgency that left her heart pounding. “This is how you act with him?” His question held a weight of not only a weight desire but possessiveness; and jealousy.

“She knows her place and her limits,” Rin answered for her as his fingertips skillfully unclasped the heart clip that held her bra together. (Name)’s tits had a delicious drop under their weight, her buds hardened rather quickly not only because of Rin’s stimulation but the temperature in the locker room had been chilly.

Bachira virtually had no qualms about palming himself through his shorts, his cock stiff with a perverted little expression on his face as he watched the scene unfold. Truth be told, this isn’t the first time he’s done something depraved like this. See, Bachira had a bit of a fixation on voyeurism and exhibitionism. It was almost as if he was in the room by himself, enjoying his sight before of him like he were at home watching the perverse bookmarks on his burner account on Twitter. This to him was even more of a treat— not only does he get to watch but he gets the luxury of having others watch him.

“See what your effect is on all of these perverts?” Rin asks, his voice low against her ear. “And yet you still walk around clueless, these little skirts and small tops.”

Isagi makes the next move with hands sliding down behind her waist where fingertips unzip the back of her skirt. His thumbs hook into the material of both her mini and the panties she wore, pulling both garments down in haste.

“Fuck me.” Raichi groaned, he put up a desperate attempt to hold onto whatever sanity he did have but he hasn’t gotten laid in weeks and this is probably as close to (Name)’s pussy as he was going to get. So help him god if any of this gets out to the press he’s going to fucking lose it. He starts palming himself through his shorts too, only gaining the courage to actually pull himself out when he catches a glimpse of Bachira who had been holding his cock at its base, rubbing his frenulum with the pad of his fingertip. Its head was leaky— comically so as it dripped slowly onto the floor below him where he stood. Raichi spits into his hand before he wraps it around him, giving it a firm squeeze before stroking himself slowly. His balls are heavy, it's embarrassing to say that he has to be careful. He doesn’t want to be the first guy to cum, especially in this kind of situation.

The room had been filled with breathy moans and explicit sounds and statements as they all became meshed together in, let’s not mince words: an orgy.

Reo and Nagi seemed to have fallen into their solace between each other, lips locked in a fervent kiss as their clothed clothes rubbed against each other, it wasn’t very long before they’d been frotting bare against each other. Yukimiya follows in both Raichi and Bachira’s footsteps by pulling out his cock and jerking himself off, imagining that (Name) was the one who was touching him, kissing him, making him cum anywhere he wanted to.

Isagi’s mouth is hot on (Name)’s cunt as she sits on the bench, her legs propped up on either side of her to keep her legs open and spread. His pointer finger and middle spread her lips apart as his tongue delves into the heart of her sweet pussy, causing rivulets of her sticky essence to drip down his chin. Isagi was always a messy eater— he was one of those types who liked to eat pussy for his pleasure. He could be between her legs for hours if she let him but she gets a little restless because she ends up wanting to get fucked after her second orgasm on his tongue. Isagi and Rin were different in that regard. It’s not because Rin didn’t want to or like foreplay: he just preferred to fuck because he could do it for hours when time permits.

Rin looks down at her while she holds his hard cock in her hand. Her tongue feels warm, slippery, and wet as she circles it around his cockhead. He watches her build up her momentum as she starts to suck on it instead— she always did this and that alone would make him cum if she tried but she makes it a point to prove she can swallow him whole without gagging. (Name) says it feels more rewarding when he can cum down her throat too— it’s probably what she was working towards right now, slowly taking him inch by inch. She knows her limits though it seems because she’s using her hands with what she can’t get down to.

Rin thinks he likes this position: he’s standing over Isagi in both a literary and metaphorical sense. He’s on his knees serving his girlfriend while she focuses all her attention on him— doing her best to make him feel good. Rin’s compliance to all of this carries a certain weight of unresolved tensions, it feels more like a means of control than the genuine connection between Isagi or any other teammate in this locker room. In Rin’s head, he’s doing them a favor. He tosses a mere glance at the rest, eyes focused on the depraved displays of lust in front of him.

“..Shit. That feels good.” Tabito’s eyes are closed shut as Chigiri’s mouth wraps around the head of his cock and Hiori licks up and down his shaft. The redhead’s looking up at Tabito through lash lines that seem a little too feminine— he’s holding a piece of his hair tucked behind his ear as he slowly envelops Tabito’s growing cock. Hiori’s hands are both wrapped around his shaft and Chigiri’s as they work along Tabito’s cock, often meeting at the top of his cock to share a wet tongue kiss.

Tabito didn’t think he could get any harder but here he is now, trying not to blow his load prematurely all in their pretty mouths. There’s a part of Tabito that feels a small amount of shame— or perhaps something akin to embarrassment as he gets his cock sucked. Maybe it’s the overall absurdity of the situation: the entire team getting essentially cucked by the water girl everyone wants to be balls deep in and the two dickheads who have had a one-up on them all the entire time. Another reason is probably because he’s one of those men who prides himself in being an Alpha male of sorts— bragging about how many women he can pull but once again, here he is getting his cock sucked on by two pretty boys.

Isagi’s lips encircle her clit, applying gentle suction as he slips his pointer and middle into her slit. Warm walls encompass his digits as he rocks them a certain way he knows she likes. (Name) is already finding it difficult to focus on sucking Rin off with Isagi between her legs like this. Her free hand finds its way into Isagi’s hair, giving him a gentle grip as she tries to ground herself. As he continues to suck on her sensitive bud, his actions become more fervent— sloppier and more urgent. Isagi could feel her insides twitching along his fingers, that’s why. She’s close and he wants to be the first one to make her cum in front of everyone. (Name) can’t help but tear her lips away from Rin’s cock, her hand continuing to jerk him off as she looks down at Isagi.

“I’m—!” She nearly chokes on her cry as she feels the initial push over the edge— then the dips come and she’s shaking. “—cumming, I’m cumming..!” (Name) repeats over and over again as she basks in the complete and total absence of control she has over her body in that very moment. It’s pretty— it's so pretty. She almost looks helpless but the sounds she’s making are making them spin. Isagi’s mouth is still attached to her core, following her body as she moves around. She rides out her high like this and Isagi only pulls away when he’s satisfied.

“Hah.. dammit..” Baro has been keeping to himself this whole time. The interesting thing about him is that he’s really a gentleman. He’s never been in a situation like this before but he’s also never been this turned on in his life. Baro also just learned that he likes to watch, his cock has been twitching in his thigh for almost thirty minutes. He’s making a mess in his boxer briefs because he can feel himself getting wet. The way his cock is jumping is enough friction to cause stimulation, when (Name) cums, he has to grab himself at his base to keep him from cumming. Baro looks down at himself, pulling up the inseam of his shorts and underwear to let the tip of his cock peek out. It jumps again, the cool air hitting its shiny and glistening tip as it drools. Precum leaking onto the floor.

The trio shifts their positions so that Rin is lying on the bench while (Name) straddles him, sheathing his cock at its hilt— Rin’s hands on her ass as she adjusts to him. It’s been a while since she’s had him because of a little disagreement they had. Well, in actuality it was everything but little. They hadn’t been “seeing” each other for the past couple of weeks as they usually do because of Rin’s.. approach to how he handles certain things. Specifically when it comes down to having conversations involving emotions and how to deal with them in healthy and effective ways. The “what are we” conversation didn’t go as she’d planned for it to be. He gave her a vague response that resolved nothing which in turn made her spiral, but it’s not like she‘s some sort of loose canon. She had her moments, yes.. but when it came to Rin he brought something nasty out in her that only he could.

“Don’t look at me,” (Name) says softly, her voice carrying a tone of resentment that holds no real weight as she grabs his face to make him look in another direction. Isagi is behind her as he prods his cock between her supple ass cheeks, ever so gently pressing the tip onto her puckered hole. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips when he saw how she jolted upwards, reaching behind her to shoo him away from that part of her.

“Hng— Isagi, not there. It’s been too long..” (Name) looks at him from over her shoulder. Isagi thinks she looks cute like that: brows pinched in a furrow with a pout on her lips she doesn’t even know she’s sporting. That’s alright. Her pussy seemed more appealing anyway, even if Rin’s cock had already been working its way into her. It was going to be nearly impossible to try to squeeze himself into her, Rin was already big admittedly— the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. But Isagi the issue here was that he didn’t like sharing. He leans over, lips connecting to her neck in a sweet kiss.

“Then can you take both in here..?” Isagi’s fingers gently brush against the same pussy that was currently stuffed with Rin’s cock. Isagi almost wanted to scoff— it was big and she was tight enough to make her grip around his shaft. He hated how much his cock was drooling, it was almost a little embarrassing.

“No, Yoichi.. I don’t think I can fit both.” She says. “I’m not prepped at all, pervert..” Her eyes are closed in a hum, as she reaches to hold the back of his neck into place while Rin plays with her clit. His eyes are low and lidded as they hone in on the precious little flower between her legs. He’s starting to move now, slowly, but he’s gotten a bit impatient. The fluttering around his dick isn’t helping either— he’s almost entirely tuned out everyone else.

“Then you’re going to try, right? For me?” Isagi pressed another kiss into her skin and his eyes flickered upward and over to Bachira who had seemingly inched his way over to the three, a bright-eyed look in his eye as he looked at (Name) like she was a pretty prize, adorned with the wrapping paper and bow. Rin gives him a skeptical look from the corner of his eye but doesn’t say anything. Rin tolerated Bachira more than other players for whatever reason. Unfortunately, he thinks that Bachira may have grown on him over time. Rin would never admit that but he’s sure if it had been anyone else, he’d be beside himself but Bachira isn’t touching her so it’s acceptable.

“Meguru,” Isagi hums. He reaches around to grab a hold of her face to make her look at Bachira, placing another kiss on her cheek. “She’s so pretty, right? Prettier than the last time, you think?” Isagi looks over at him again with a knowing grin.

Last time.. that was supposed to be a secret between the three of them. Now she’s feeling embarrassed and a little bit like a slut. But it was a one-time thing! That night they were supposed to be toning Bachi’s hair, they had a little bit of wine— too much wine. One thing led to another and she ended up getting spit roasted with Isagi in her pussy and Bachira taking her mouth. If she wasn’t so out of her mind she’d say something— or maybe she wouldn’t, it was the truth after all. But they are going to get in trouble afterward, they made a promise and totally broke it.

“Mhm~! ♡” Bachira nods. “She’s a tough girl, she can take it.”

“We didn’t get to try last time but you think (Name) can fit two inside, right? She's doubting herself like a ..silly girl? Is that what you call her when she’s being clumsy?” Isagi flashes another smile, yet Bachira succumbs to his impulses, bridging the distance to share a kiss with (Name) before tenderly transitioning to Isagi, his lips moving in a gentle but firm kiss.

Rin doesn’t say much. It's odd but he’s soon pulling himself out of her so that they could shift into another position— one that could accommodate her more comfortably than the one she was in currently. (Name) assumes a reverse cowgirl position, while Rin supports one of her legs from behind the knee to establish a stable anchor. Isagi mirrors the action, both positioning their cocks at her pussy— one that seems too tight to fit both. Bachira’s been hovering, leaning over to spit right onto her pussy.

“You can do it! ♡” Bachira chirps, a chuckle adjacent to a giggle leaves his lips when she reaches out for him— he lets her with no question. She held onto the nape of his neck, fingers intertwined in the soft brassy hairs. The shuffle of footsteps echoed as the onlookers encircled the four, creating an impromptu audience. It’s almost like a.. circle jerk but with a view. All of their dicks are in hand, stroking themselves to the sight. The attention is getting (Name) off, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t. Her cunt was visibly pulsating around nothing, her need to be absolutely filled to the brim was growing and the task of taking two cocks into the same hole seemed less daunting and more like a necessity.

“Holy shit..” An involuntary hiccup escapes her, accompanied by a restrained moan. It's the sensation of something notably large making its initial attempt to enter. They both push into her inch by inch and the grasp on Bachira’s hair is far less friendly. He doesn’t mind though, it feels good for him. “Oh my god—!”

It's a stretch that initiates with a subtle and controlled tension.. gradually intensifying until it teeters on the edge of discomfort. As she reaches the peak— both of their lengths halfway, a satisfying ache ensues, accompanied by a paradoxical sensation of relief as the apex passes. It’s a blend of pain and pleasure, as the muscles protest against the stretch while simultaneously yielding to the therapeutic pull of her walls, leaving her with a lingering sense of being full beyond imagination and gratification.

“Christ..” Rin says under his breath, letting out an almost shaky breath. It’s tight— it’s probably the tightest thing he’s had since he fucked her ass the first time. It’s an enveloping pressure that molds around him, both hard and soft. It seems as though his cock and Isagi’s are battling for room within her but there just simply wasn’t any.

“Look at you..” Isagi on the other hand can’t get over the view— none of them can. He’s only ever seen things like this in hardcore porn, never in real life. She’d stretched beyond belief, both cocks inside of her completely to the hilt. He doesn’t know what to do with himself other than stare and wait for her to permit them to move. Bachira’s making good use of himself by playing with her clit, lips locked onto her own as she reached to play with his cock.

She breaks away from his lips momentarily to look at Isagi with a darkened gaze before uttering the words, “Fuck me.” Rin misses not a single beat as he reaches upward, grabbing a handful of her hair at the base to yank her head back. Both men start fucking into her at a worrisome pace, one would think they’d be a tad more generous but it was clear there had been no more patience left. They wanted to cum in a hot and willing cunt. Their cocks both push and pull at alternating times, hitting different targets deep inside of her. She’s not catching a break between the two of them and it’s making her vision hazy.

Chasing after a high becomes the focal point of everyone’s agenda. Every touch seemed to be heightened amongst everyone, sending waves of euphoria through each of their bodies— there a sense of urgency surged through the air as something inched closer and closer. Her vision had been completely obscured by the overwhelming euphoria building in her core, the harsh lighting of the locker room becoming almost soft and blurred. Her tits jump at every impact of a pump, hardened buds getting licked and sucked on by Bachira. Some images she can make out when she comes to like: Baro, Yukimiya, and Raichi stroking themselves, Reo bent over on all fours while Nagi fucks him from behind, Chigiri and Hiori in a 69 position while Tabito alternates between Hiori’s ass and Chigiri’s mouth.

Unfortunately, she can’t hold it together anymore. It's the peak of pleasure, sensations converging into an intense climax—a symphony of ecstasy where every touch, breath, and heartbeat harmonize in sublime rhythm. Her mouth hangs open into a sweet little ‘O’ and she starts to shake uncontrollably, her cunt becomes a geyser as she squirts on Isagi’s lower half in short bursts. It’s a chain reaction: guttural moans breaking out as the onlookers begin to cum, multiple cumshots had and soiling the floor where they stood.

“Ah— fuck.. fuck.. fuckfuck—” Isagi’s hips start to falter terribly as he sputters out curses. Both he and Rin cum at the same time, filling her abused and beaten hole with their seed. Isagi doesn’t know it, but he’s overstimulating both (Name) and Rin because he’s the type to fuck through his orgasms until he absolutely can’t move anymore. Their cum sloshes inside of her and it’s enough to start oozing out of her, down her ass, and dripping onto Rin’s balls.

“Stop fucking moving.” Rin barks at Isagi before he eventually tires himself out, he slips out of her first then Rin carefully follows suit. The rest oozes out of her slowly and onto the bench, shallow breaths making her chest rise and fall.

As the echoes of pleasure subside, a serene aftermath settles in, wrapping the room in a cocoon of shared intimacy. In the dim glow of the aftermath, bodies rest, breaths sync, and the hazy ambiance settles.

She deserves a promotion.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #isagi yoichi x reader #rin itoshi x reader

3K notes · View notes

cadavercowboy · 10 months ago

Text

Just Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).

The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.

You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together.

This is all Bucky’s fault.

Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.

It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you.

And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.

You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky.

But you can’t.

Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there.

In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether?

As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device.

Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night

You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else.

Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI

So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial.

Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you.

It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise.

If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.

“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.

You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.

“Send me your address.”

“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”

You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”

The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”

Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak.

Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep.

There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.

With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.

By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier.

Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.

You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you.

Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.

“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”

Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”

The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.

“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”

“So?”

Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.

“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.

It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”

“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.

You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.

“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”

Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question.

“I’m here to finish what I started.”

He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.

In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.

“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.

“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”

He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.

“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.

“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat.

Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.

“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.

“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”

Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.

“Buck. Please.”

You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.

“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”

Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.

A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.

As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him.

Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you.

Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.

Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy.

With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#ummmmm hi? LOL #coming back from unannounced hiatuses with dumb fics is my brand now i guess #just dipping my toes back in a teeny bit #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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schmidtsbimbo · 1 year ago

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★ Older bf Mike Schmidt Headcanons ★

𖦹 Warnings: afab reader, pet names, slightly suggestive, age gap relationship, perv!mike if you squint

⋆｡°‧Requests are open! Comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ♡

―୨୧⋆ ˚ A/N: thinking about older bf mike has had my brain mushy all day and I had to get it out of my system so this is super short , this has not been proofread ^_^

Olderbf!mike who isn’t too much into pda but still holds your hand because he knows you love it, occasionally wrapping his arms around your waist or shoulders when he’s feeling a little bolder. However, when you’re both alone he cannot keep his hands off of you. He’ll sneak up behind you while you’re cooking and snake his hands around your waist from behind, his head resting in the crook of your neck. When he’s driving his unoccupied hand is always resting on your thigh, his thumb gently rubbing small circles against your skin.

Olderbf!mike who loves how different your aesthetics are. You show up to gatherings in pink tracksuits or small skirts and tight shirts, mike trailing behind you in his blue jeans and grey zip up sweater. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom in a plain T-shirt and boxers while you’re doing your makeup, admiring the way you apply your favorite pink lipstick on your lips and the way you bat your eyes in the mirror after applying mascara

Olderbf!mike who almost never calls you by your actual name. He calls you all sorts of names like sweetheart, baby, princess, and his absolute favorite name to call you being pretty girl. so much so that he has it as your contact name on his phone. He used to be a little hesitant to call you any of these names in public but three months in any trace of hesitation was gone

Olderbf!mike who is incredibly overprotective at times. After the Garrett incident he can’t even fathom losing you too, if you go anywhere he’ll be right by your side. Nail appointment? Random shopping trip? Hair appointment? He’s right there trailing right behind you. If for whatever reason he can’t go with you, he bought you some pepper spray that you thought was a little excessive but he insisted on it because “you never know”

Olderbf!mike who secretly eats up the age gap between you two. Sure, when he found out your age he was a little hesitant about the whole thing but it certainly didn’t stop him. He still gets a little sheepish when you drag him out to hang out with your friends and he realizes the age difference really does affect some of your interests

Olderbf!mike who can’t help but sneak a glance up your skirt when you drop something and bend over to pick it up. He can never keep his eyes off you, especially when you wear low cut shirts. He thinks you don’t notice but you definitely do. You’re almost teasing him and using it to your advantage when you notice, wearing something a little provocative when you want a small favor from him

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike afton #mike fnaf #Rosie writes ―୨୧ #mike schmidt headcanons

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callmedaleelah · 2 months ago

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modern!sukuna ryomen x shy!reader

sometimes hurtful comments are inevitable, trying to understand that it was a light joke doesn’t make the hurts gone

warnings : dom!sukuna, sub!reader, angst to comfort, no (y/n) mentioned, writing in second person pov, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The hum of the car engine filled the air, a constant, soothing sound that contrasted the swirl of nervous energy churning in your stomach. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap, fingers gently twisting the fabric of your dress. Sukuna, as always, looked completely unbothered. His focus was on the road, one hand resting casually on the wheel while the other draped over the console between you.

You stole a glance at him, feeling the usual mixture of awe and intimidation that his presence brought. Everything about him was sharp—his jawline, his eyes, his mind. He commanded respect without even trying, a force of nature that made people fall in line without question. It was no wonder that people at work feared him, or at least treaded carefully around him. Sukuna was known to be tough, short-tempered, and damn near impossible to please. Yet somehow, with you, he was different. You didn’t always understand why, but you knew he liked the way you were—quiet, obedient, a perfect contrast to his dominant personality.

Today, though, was different. Today, he was taking you to meet his work colleagues for the first time. Sukuna rarely mingled outside of work, and when he did, it was with a close-knit group of men who, like him, commanded attention. You were nervous. Not because you didn’t want to meet them, but because you wanted to make a good impression. You didn’t want to be the weak link, the one who couldn’t handle the intense atmosphere that undoubtedly followed Sukuna wherever he went.

“Don’t worry about them,” he had told you earlier, his tone dismissive, as though your concerns were trivial. “Their opinions don’t matter.”

You knew he meant it, and that should’ve been enough to ease your nerves, but it didn’t. You wanted to make him proud. You always wanted to make him proud.

As the car slowed at a stoplight, Sukuna finally broke the silence. His voice was deep, low, commanding your attention. “Listen,” he began, his eyes still on the road ahead. “There’s a few people you’ll meet today.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes fixed on him, waiting for more. You’d never met any of his colleagues before—he liked to keep his personal and work life separate. Today was an exception, and that only made you more anxious.

The car came to a stop outside the restaurant. Sukuna parked, cutting the engine, and silence fell over the space once more. You immediately reached for the rearview mirror, checking your reflection. The soft makeup you’d applied earlier was still intact, but you felt the need to freshen up, your nerves spiking as the reality of meeting his colleagues hit you again.

Your eyes drifted to the red lipstick in your bag—the one Sukuna loved. It was bold, a stark contrast to your usual soft and neutral colors, but whenever you wore it, he always told you how beautiful you looked. His favorite. You applied a fresh coat, feeling a small boost of confidence as the rich color bloomed on your lips.

“I’m ready,” you said softly, turning to him with a nervous smile, hoping for his approval.

Sukuna glanced at you, but instead of the usual compliment, his expression darkened. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as they fixed on your lips. The shift in his mood was instant, the tension palpable.

“You’re not going to get out of the car with that red lipstick,” he said, his voice low and stern.

Your smile faltered, confusion flooding your mind. His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air between you. “B–but why? Don’t you like it?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of his intense gaze.

Sukuna leaned closer, his frown deepening. His thumb reached out, brushing lightly across your cheek in a gesture that should’ve been comforting, but his words held a firm edge. “I do. I really do. But that’s only for me to see. You can’t let them see you in that sexy color, with those sexy lips, woman.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Sukuna’s possessiveness wasn’t new, but it still had the power to catch you off guard. He wasn’t asking. He was telling you, and there was no room for argument. But you didn’t understand. You had worn it for him—for his approval, for his eyes. Didn’t that matter?

“But… I wore it for you,” you said softly, your fingers trembling slightly as you fidgeted with the hem of your dress. “You said I look beautiful with this color.”

Sukuna’s small smile faded entirely, his expression growing serious. He cupped your face in his large hand, pulling you closer until your foreheads nearly touched. His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. “You heard me, babe,” Sukuna’s voice was a deep rumble, his words deliberate, “you can’t let them see you in it. And I don’t want to repeat it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you swallowed hard, nodding in quiet submission. This was what he liked most about you—your ability to listen, to follow, to do as he said without argument. It was one of the reasons he kept you so close, why you were the one person in his life he softened for. But now, in this moment, all you could feel was the sharp edge of his possessiveness.

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip for a brief second before he pulled back, releasing your face. His gaze lingered on you, his frown still etched into his sharp features. You bit your lip, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in your chest. You hated feeling like this—unsure of yourself, second-guessing every move. You’d wanted to look good for him, to make him proud, but instead, you felt small under the weight of his stern gaze.

Sukuna was already shifting to get out of the car, unbuckling his seatbelt with a practiced motion. Before he could step out, he threw one more comment over his shoulder, the tease in his voice barely masking the possessiveness underneath. “Unless, of course, you want to seduce my friends and see their boners, it’s up to you.”

Your face burned at his crude words, a mix of embarrassment and frustration bubbling up inside you. You quickly turned your head, pretending to rummage through your purse for the makeup wipe, desperate to wipe the lipstick away. Your fingers trembled as you found the small packet, your mind racing. You could feel the hurt settling in your chest, heavy and unshakable, as you quickly wiped the bold red from your lips. You didn’t want to argue with him. You didn’t want to push back. But his teasing words had stung, leaving an ache that you couldn’t quite shake.

The glossy shade of your natural lips returned as you swiped a clear gloss over them, trying to regain a bit of composure. The red had made you feel bold, confident. Without it, you felt exposed, vulnerable, like a shadow of yourself.

Sukuna had already stepped out of the car, moving with his usual confidence. He didn’t look back as he rounded the vehicle to your side, but you knew he expected you to follow without question. By the time he opened your door, you were doing your best to smooth the hurt expression from your face, forcing a small, polite smile.

You stepped out of the car, your eyes instinctively dropping to the ground as you adjusted your dress. Sukuna extended his arm toward you, and you immediately took it, your hand resting lightly on his bicep as he led you toward the restaurant entrance. His presence was a double-edged sword—comforting, yet overwhelming. You were always aware of the power he held, the way he dominated any room he entered. Now, as you clung to his arm, you wondered how much his colleagues would see you as an extension of that power or if they’d see you as something weaker, something softer.

As you neared the door, Sukuna’s hand briefly tightened on your arm, pulling you a bit closer. “You’re with me,” he said, his voice low, meant only for you. “Don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Just remember that.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar warmth of his control wash over you, comforting yet confining at the same time. You’d grown used to it by now—the way he shielded you, the way he wanted you all to himself. His approval was all you wanted, and even now, despite the ache in your chest, you clung to the hope that you could still make him proud.

As you stepped into the restaurant, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. The room was filled with the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses and cutlery, and a sense of sophistication that immediately made your nerves spike again. Sukuna, as usual, was unbothered. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on a table near the back, where a few familiar faces were already gathered.

“There,” he muttered, nodding toward the group. You recognized them immediately from his earlier descriptions. Toji sat with his arms crossed, his muscular frame practically commanding the entire corner of the restaurant. Suguru leaned back in his chair, a small, knowing smile on his face as if he was already reading the situation before you even approached. And then there was Satoru—impossible to miss, his striking features and confident grin setting him apart from the rest. Nanami, however, was more subdued, quietly sipping his drink, his sharp eyes barely lifting from the table as you and Sukuna approached.

The moment you stepped closer, you could feel their eyes on you—curious, assessing, waiting for your next move. Your grip on Sukuna’s arm tightened, and he gave you a slight glance, as if to remind you to stay close.

“Finally,” Toji said, his voice rough and unapologetic as he eyed Sukuna. “Thought you were ditching us.”

“Had to bring the girl,” Sukuna replied, his voice cool and detached, though there was a possessiveness in the way he spoke about you. He pulled out a chair for you before taking his own seat, his hand brushing lightly against your back as you sat down beside him. The simple touch grounded you, reminding you of your place at his side.

Suguru’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than the others, his smile widening slightly. “You must be special if Sukuna’s bringing you around us.”

You blushed under the attention, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table as you fought to keep your composure. Sukuna shot Suguru a sharp look, one that immediately silenced whatever teasing comment might’ve followed. His gaze shifted back to you, a silent reassurance in his eyes.

Satoru leaned forward, his grin playful, clearly enjoying the tension. “So, Sukuna’s finally letting us meet the girl, huh? I gotta say, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you’d find someone who could handle you.”

“Shut it, Satoru,” Sukuna growled, his voice holding an edge of warning.

You lowered your gaze, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You weren’t used to being the center of attention, especially not in a group like this. It was overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite belong. But as always, Sukuna’s presence grounded you, his dominance over the situation a reminder that you were under his protection.

The rest of the meal went by in a blur of conversation, laughter, and occasional teasing. You stayed quiet, content to observe and take in the dynamics around you. Sukuna’s hand remained close, whether on your back or brushing against your arm. It was his way of keeping you anchored, reminding you of your place at his side. And despite the tension and occasional embarrassment, there was a certain comfort in knowing that, as long as you were with him, you didn’t need to worry about what anyone else thought.

The car ride was quiet, far too quiet for Sukuna’s liking. Normally, after a social event like this, you'd be filling the space with small comments—complaining about how overwhelming it was, laughing about someone’s joke, or complaining about how tired you felt. But today, you sat curled up in the passenger seat, eyes glued to the window, your lips pressed in a tight line. There wasn’t a single word from you.

He glanced over at you a few times, wondering if it was just the usual post-social exhaustion. He knew that meeting new people drained your energy, and today’s lunch had been a lot, with all of his friends and their partners gathered. But something about your silence didn’t sit right with him. You weren’t just quiet—you were withdrawn, avoiding him in a way that made the back of his neck prickle with unease.

But he kept quiet, not wanting to push. Sukuna knew better than to force anything out of you, especially in this state. Instead, he waited. He was good at that—waiting until the moment was right, until you were ready.

The tension in the air between you two was palpable as you both walked into the house, neither of you saying much. You immediately went to the bedroom, slipping out of your shoes and beginning to take off your earrings. Sukuna watched you for a moment from the doorway, his brow furrowed in thought. Something was definitely off.

He headed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower, letting the water run over him as he tried to shake off the nagging worry that gnawed at him. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe you were just tired. Maybe…

But when he came out, dressed in the pajamas you’d picked out for him—something soft and comfortable, a stark contrast to his usual sharp attire—he found you still sitting at the vanity, quietly putting away your jewelry. The air between you was still thick with unspoken tension.

Sukuna approached you, standing behind you and leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. He looked at your reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face. “You’ve been too quiet,” he murmured, his voice low as he gently wrapped his hands around your neck, massaging the tension out of your muscles in that way you always liked. He could feel the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you seemed to tense even more under his touch.

You sighed softly but didn’t look up at him. “I’m just tired,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned your head slightly to place a small, soft kiss on his jaw.

It wasn’t convincing, and Sukuna could feel it. He could see it in the way your eyes darted away, in the way you avoided looking at him in the mirror for too long. Something was wrong, and it was gnawing at him, but he didn’t press. Not yet.

When you moved to the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, Sukuna followed you, sitting beside you, his eyes still lingering on your face, searching for something—an explanation, a sign, anything. His mind raced, thinking over the events of the day, trying to figure out what could have caused this shift.

“Was it because I didn’t let you wear the red lipstick?” he asked suddenly, his tone cautious. His eyes softened as he waited for your response, wondering if he had unintentionally hurt your feelings. He knew how much you liked wearing that shade, and he had been the one to tell you to tone it down today. But that couldn’t be it… could it?

You barely glanced at him, shaking your head. “No. I’m just tired.”

You turned your attention back to your phone, and Sukuna felt a flicker of frustration in his chest, though he quickly pushed it down. You were always quiet around new people, but this… this was different.

“Can you come cuddle me, please?” you asked suddenly, your voice softer now, almost fragile.

Sukuna let out a soft sigh, shaking off his thoughts. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe you just needed some time. He slipped into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, spooning you from behind. He could feel the tension in your body, but he didn’t say anything, just rested his chin on your shoulder and held you close.

As you lay there, curled up in his arms, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the lunch, about how you’d avoided his gaze, how you’d been distant the whole time. He knew you better than anyone, knew when something was bothering you. And though he tried to tell himself that it was nothing, that you were just tired, the feeling in his chest told him otherwise.

But for now, he held you close, his hand gently rubbing your arm, trying to soothe the unease he felt creeping up inside him. He knew you’d talk when you were ready.

The morning after that quiet night, Sukuna woke up to find your side of the bed cold and empty. He groaned, instinctively reaching for his phone and finding a text from you:

Morning, love. Pilates class today! Didn’t want to wake you—see you later! xx

Sukuna buried his face into the pillow with a huff, feeling a strange bitterness creep in. Normally, you’d rouse him with soft kisses, lingering hugs, and sleepy whispers before heading out. Today, though, you’d slipped away quietly. The day already felt off.

Later that evening, Sukuna returned home, still feeling the nagging sting of the morning. The house was peaceful, and as he stepped into the living room, there you were—curled up on the couch, reading the new book he'd bought for you last week. You had your reading glasses on, a sight that never failed to make you look irresistibly cute. Sukuna couldn’t resist; he leaned down, kissing your cheek and giving you a soft peck on the lips.

“Hey,” you greeted him warmly, looking up from your book. “Hard day?”

Sukuna only groaned in response, plopping down next to you on the couch, his expression still a bit grim.

“You left me alone in bed this morning,” he mumbled, his voice laced with playful complaint but also something deeper.

“Sorry,” you said, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I had pilates class.” Leaning over, you kissed the corner of his lips, hoping to soothe his mood. “I’ll go get dinner ready. You can shower in the meantime.”

Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you as you moved toward the kitchen. His frustration from earlier lingered, but he pushed it down and went to shower, letting the warm water relax his tense muscles. When he came back, refreshed but still unsettled, he found you arranging his dinner on the table. The aroma filled the room, and he approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your neck. You giggled, your usual light-hearted response, telling him to sit and enjoy his meal.

But as Sukuna sat down, his eyes scanned the table, and his brows furrowed. There was only one plate. He looked up just as you placed a glass of water in front of him, and then you sat across the table with a soft smile, hands resting on your lap.

“Where’s your plate?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Oh, I already ate before you got back,” you answered with a smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Sukuna’s gaze darkened slightly, his jaw tensing. “Why?”

“I was… hungry?” you replied, your voice unsure.

Sukuna took a slow sip of water, trying to calm the growing frustration in his chest. “Yeah, no. You never miss a chance to have dinner with me,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You fidgeted in your seat, the weight of his stare making you feel small. “But I was hungry, Kuna…”

He exhaled sharply, setting his glass down. His voice was quieter now but firmer, edged with concern. “You fell asleep on this table once, waiting for me after overtime. Your stomach hurt because I took so long, but you didn’t eat until I got home.” His words hung heavy in the air. “Now you’re telling me you couldn’t wait?”

Your smile faltered. The light mood you had tried to create dissipated, and you saw the shift in his expression. He knew something was wrong, even if you didn’t want to admit it. You had never been one to open up easily, but Sukuna also knew when to push, especially when you were hurting.

“I was just hungry,” you repeated, but your voice was weaker this time, barely above a whisper, your eyes lowered like a kicked puppy.

Sukuna reached across the table, his large hand gently squeezing yours. His touch was soft but commanding. “Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

You hesitated, unable to meet his gaze. The words you had been holding onto since yesterday weighed heavily on your tongue, but you didn’t know how to explain it. You knew he had been joking, but his offhand remark had hit you harder than you wanted to admit.

Finally, after a long pause, you spoke, your voice small and shaky. “I didn’t like what you said yesterday. About the red lipstick…”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed, listening intently as you continued, the words spilling out faster now.

“When you said I could wear it if I wanted to seduce your colleagues... it made me feel like a slut.” Your voice cracked slightly. “I just wanted to wear it for you—because you said it makes me prettier.”

Sukuna's face softened immediately, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter, pulling you closer. “Okay, babe,” he murmured, his voice deep and calm, cutting through your hurried explanation. “Breathe. You’re talking too fast.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your confession still heavy in the air. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“No,” Sukuna said firmly, cutting you off. He stood up, tugging your hand gently, and you followed his lead until you were seated on his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He tilted your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes. His gaze was serious but full of warmth and understanding.

“If you ever hear me say something like that again, you can slap me right there and then. Do you understand?” His voice was low, each word slow and deliberate, as if he needed you to truly take in every syllable.

You nodded, feeling shy under his intense stare, but a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

He brought your hand to his face, guiding your fingers to gently rub his cheek. “I never want you to feel like that again,” he whispered, leaning in, his lips brushing softly against yours before deepening the kiss. His hands held you securely, and for a moment, all the tension, the doubt, and the hurt from the past few days melted away.

In his embrace, you finally felt understood, his kiss telling you all the things words sometimes couldn’t.

#daleelah writings 🐭#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk au #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you

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astraystayyh · 4 months ago

Text

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick.

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth.

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within.

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

…

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party.

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore.

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers.

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?”

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne.

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “Même magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit.

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes.

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch.

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood.

A week ago.

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request.

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem.

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively.

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.”

He knew.

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.”

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings.

“What did he do?”

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke.

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking.

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.”

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes.

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom.

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again.

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him.

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him.

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle. “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp.

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body.

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter.

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are.

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then.

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most?

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes.

Could it be?

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered.

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use.

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer?

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?”

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks.

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine.

Breathe.

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.”

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time.

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin.

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.”

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw.

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.”

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.”

“What do you want from me then?”

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.”

He remains silent.

“Hyunjin, please.”

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.”

8 minutes.

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce.

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face.

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales.

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing.

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in.

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down.

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers.

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him.

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared.

Cute.

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads.

Time’s up.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both.

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm.

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him.

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you.

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right.

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over.

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground.

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach.

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.”

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.”

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders.

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last.

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.”

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you.

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge.

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too.

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach.

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other.

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.”

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.”

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again.

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.”

One month later.

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it.

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him.

He really missed you.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight.

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

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