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eccentricallygothic · 4 months ago

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Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them…

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . .

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part.

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least.

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown.

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more.

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

“Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire.

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him.

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . .

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

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sweetpumpkinmouse · 6 months ago

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I love that you went more into V’s treatment in the fandom. Because she’s not even a spiteful ex character.

V is more than a just a former crush to N. She is a flawed, tragic character who, because of her circumstances, made terrible choices in hopes of keeping the one constant thing in her life “safe”.

Yes, she’s did terrible things. Yes, she treated N like crap, even if it was for “protection”. Yes, she was a catalyst to Uzi’s breakdown. But she’s also a traumatized individual who projected that trauma onto others. And when learning that Uzi is not just some cheap novelty to N and is dealing with something similar to V’s own experience, she begins treating Uzi better.

Episode 6 displays this by having V being more protective of Uzi. Which is why she said, “Uzi, I trust you,” and never, “N, I love you”. Because that’s not what her arc is about. It is why her sacrifice is sad and impactful.

V isn’t a perfect person, but in her final moments she decided to be a better person for the people she cared for.

This Fandom is Weirdly Misogynistic and Ableist

Yeah great title there bud.

So originally this was going to be a half-baked rant about how people disrespect V, but the more I brainstormed that I came to realize. This fandom in general has a problem with misogyny and even ableism towards not just V, but Uzi as well. Heck, I would almost say Uzi moreso.

When it comes to personality butchering, I'd say V gets it worse. The number of times I've seen people make her sound like some petty, vengeful ex makes me want to rip my laptop screen off its hinges.

And most of the reason they do this, episode 4.

When Uzi and V are together in the cabin, V tells Uzi that it's better to stay distant because she'll have to kill Uzi next. Afterwards saying that N's made friends with rocks before, and that he'd move on from her death just fine.

Now, I honestly love this scene. It's a moment where Uzi and V get to be together and V gets to show her true colors without having to hide them from N. She expresses her desire to kill Uzi, because she believes it'll keep N safe, and tells her about the rock friends to make her feel like she's just some cheap novelty to N. This scene is great.

Yet apparently, some people looked at this scene and saw it as V being jealous of Uzi's relationship with N and wanting to kill her over it.

Now I just have to ask... why. This scene is so easy to understand when you just sit and think about it, so why did so many people default to it being a ship thing?

Maybe because she's just a pantless whore who exists just for people to thirst over. At least, that's what Reddit bros and Discord trolls would have you believe.

Now, I do feel it's a bit stupid to look at an unpopular female character and say "well you'd like her if they were a guy", but with V I have a feeling that's exactly the case.

V's not fan service, she's not a hoe or some crazy ex. She's just trying to keep herself from losing one of the few sane constants in her crazy, messed-up life.

But of course, she can't be an intelligent or deep character, she's just a petty woman upset at Uzi for stealing her man and who needs to put on some pants.

Now Uzi, I'd have to say her treatment is worse. Not just because it's the same sexist bullshit V has to put up with, but because she's neurodivergent.

Okay, that was a lie, she's not canonically neurodivergent. But she does have a lot of traits of a neurodivergent person. Being a social outcast, thought of as weird because of her interests and behavior.

Most people who headcanon Uzi as neurodivergent seem to agree that she could have autism, ADHD, or BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), and I just wanna talk a bit more about her unofficial BPD diagnosis because I think that's the most fascinating out of the three.

In this image I highlighted some symptoms that feel very similar to personality traits Uzi has. Like, it's so similar it almost feels weird to say Uzi having BPD isn't canon.

Now I know what you're going to say, "But Kitty this is just people's headcanons."

And you know what? Fair honestly. But even if Uzi doesn't have autism, ADHD, or BPD, she almost definitely has some form of trauma and you'd be hard-pressed to try to argue with me she's neurotypical.

Uzi's not a pick me, she's a traumatized, possibly neurodivergent, girl trying to hold onto the first friend she's ever made.

Or hey? Maybe she should just suck it up and learn to take care of herself.

Honestly, this post is just a TLDR version of this.

#reblog #murder drones #i’m so sorry if what I said made no sense #my shitty mini V analysis wooo #Long story short V is more N’s love interest #well…former

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shotoh · 2 years ago

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❝ I THINK I… ♡ ❞

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ when they realize they’re in love with you

feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo

cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigami’s scenario, but he’s obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliver’s), maximum self-indulgence

notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons

OLIVER AIKU

honestly, he’d get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, “psh, i’m oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!”

no, it’s because he’s fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that he’s afraid of this. he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting you—the one person he truly cares about—and he believes you don’t deserve that.

you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.

he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when he’s so clearly infatuated with you.

the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesn’t drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while he’s there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. that’s how deep his affections for you have run.

at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.

“oli~! why don’ yer dance wit me?!” you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.

“i think you’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,” he chides. after that he’s draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.

you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while he’s driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.

he lingers a little bit longer to make sure you’re all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes you’re out like a light. that is, until he’s sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.

“love you… oliver…” is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while you’re blissfully unaware,

“love you too, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI RIN

lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: it’s not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.

he spends the next week evading you—declining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings he’s been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.

even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just can’t live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason he’s been doing so poorly is because he and his “little girlfriend” broke up. which isn’t even the case since you’ve both never crossed that bridge.

poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldn’t be surprised by, given how he’s been treating you lately.

but then you’re asking him if he’s okay and rin is utterly taken aback because he’s been acting like such an asshole, yet you’re the one that’s still worried about his well-being.

right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.

when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. he’s honestly doubting if you’ll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. you’re standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.

rin can’t even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, you’re blabbering about how he didn’t have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rin’s head because that is far from what he wants.

all of a sudden, he’s silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.

“fuck, no. i don’t want that all…” his voice sounds like he’s about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if you’ll leave him at any moment. you assure him you won’t as you nuzzle closer into his chest.

“then i’m not going anywhere, rin.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

the thought comes upon him when he’s alone in his apartment. it’s not immediate though.

the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldn’t already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.

even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, he’s constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, he’s woken by the ruckus you’re making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.

but this morning it’s… silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesn’t have practice today. what more could he want?

once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is… leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him food—a couple days ago.

regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but there’s an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.

his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persists—it’s been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and it’s starting to annoy him. he can’t determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.

after all, nothings changed.

just that… you went on an overseas trip. without him.

well, it’s not like he was ever going to be invited since you’re supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.

ah, wait. maybe he’s just lonely.

no, that can’t be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?

the question lingers in nagi’s noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phone’s ringing breaks him from his stupor, and he’s surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.

he’s not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears he’s never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter “hello?”

“sei, you’re awake! i’m glad i got the time zones right!” you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. “y’see i’ve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs i’d think you’d like!”

you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country you’re visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like you’re right here in front of him.

suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. it’s like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, you’re still the sun to his moon.

“angel,” he murmurs as you’re in the middle of talking, and you’re silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.

“come home soon. i miss you.”

ISAGI YOICHI

this boy is a mess! he’s the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and it’s obvious too.

before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because he’s just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. it’s so cute.

however, he’s not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his face—starstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his features—that he’s absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.

well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasn’t actually a date, but c’mon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, he’s in love with you.

isagi yoichi is in love with you.

but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.

with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that he’s afraid to open.

what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? he’s hoping that won’t ever be the case. he’d hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.

god, never in a million years does he want that.

the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.

to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise you’ll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.

on the day of his match, he’s more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts he’ll claim victory and take home the championship cup. he’s just eager to show you a new isagi you’ve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi that’s been vying for your attention lately.

coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where you’re seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the stands—draped in a jersey that reads his name—countless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. it’s a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.

all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.

and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where it’s downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi can’t wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.

ITOSHI SAE

sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.

in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.

as if sae wasn’t already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. he’s constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when you’re with him. it’s to the point where he’s even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before you’re given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesn’t place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.

he’s also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isn’t the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any way—which is very rare but not impossible—he always has a hand on you. whether it’s on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.

it’s not like he’s controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, he’s setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.

on more than one occasion, he’s had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. he’s grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while you’re in his arms.

after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expenses—plane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you don’t want to be a hindrance while he’s working. yet sae counters by saying it’ll be more trouble for him if you weren’t there with him than not, and who are you to object when he’s staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if you’re the whole world to him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if he’s aware of the love he possesses behind it.

it’s natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.

that’s especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while he’s settling himself at his apartment. he’s slightly surprised by the random call. you don’t normally reach out for him at this time since you’re either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.

accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.

“hello? y/n?”

“r-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?” you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.

“where are you?” he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.

“i just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but… s-someone’s–”

kunigami doesn’t need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.

“i’m coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and don’t stop talking to me, okay?”

you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as you’re doing so, kunigami’s already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. he’s never driven this fast in his life, swearing he’s a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.

if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him he’s less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.

as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.

when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.

kunigami’s attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.

“ren, i’m so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-and–” your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbag’s actions.

“shh, princess. it’s not your fault,” he whispers next to your ear, “fuck! if anything happened to you… i… i…” his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, he’s thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.

MIKAGE REO

when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, he’s a bit doubtful. mostly because he’s approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, he’ll discover that they’re mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore he’s very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.

however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way you’re always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. he’s stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.

eventually, they’ll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parents’ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.

reo’s used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever they’re eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.

so to have a person like you by his side, who doesn’t determine his value on such materialistic facets is… refreshing… but also just as frightening because he’s afraid of losing such a precious person like you.

though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking you’re someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.

the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, you’re a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didn’t have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.

then as if he couldn’t have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you don’t have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you don’t want to rely on him for money—that you simply enjoy being with him—but reo counters with similar reasoning.

“c’mon doll, just let me do this for you,” he insists. “you’ve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #aiku x reader #oliver aiku x reader #rin x reader #nagi x reader #isagi x reader #sae x reader #kunigami x reader #reo x reader #aiku fluff #rin fluff #nagi fluff #isagi fluff #sae fluff #kunigami fluff #reo fluff

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crookedteethed · 1 month ago

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ᡣ𐭩 the good girl . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　the introduction (1)

synopsis -- Rafe is infatuated with you, his new secretary; something about a trip to Morocco. Rafe is in debt and wants you to pick up a bag of cocaine from Barry for him.

warnings: 18+ mdni mostly through Rafe's (perverted) pov, cursing, ward is still alive, smut but through fantasies, angst, Slight Dark! Rafe, drug/alcohol usage

a/n: I don't know anything about real estate so please don't take the buisness portions in this series seriously.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter | word count: 3.2k

You and Rafe had four scheduled meetings together before noon, each one dragging on with the monotonous drone of old men discussing business.

Rafe, easily bored, found his attention drifting away from the discussions and towards you. He couldn't help but notice the delicate beauty marks scattered across your smooth crossed legs, a detail he had committed to memory by the third meeting.

He longed for your soft voice as he listened to the sound of flapping cheeks and tedious numbers being tossed back and forth. Every now and then, just to hear it, he would interrupt with a simple question in your ear: "You got that down?"

And in response, you would always give a respectful "Yes sir" or a subtle hum on quieter days.

Rafe would watch you intently as you quickly scribbled down notes about whatever mundane topic was being discussed by the mortgage broker--so you can recite to him later.

Despite the dullness of the meetings, he found himself amused by your presence and secretly looked forward to these moments shared between just the two of you.

And then, like clockwork, that smart ass Pope Hayward would lean in and whisper something in your ear, too, ruining everything for Rafe.

Hayward had worked for R&P, the mortgage brokers for Cameron Development, and would often attend their meetings. He always sat beside you, on the opposite side of Rafe, where he was conveniently hidden behind your body and out of Rafe's line of sight.

Rafe thinks this is a sneaky move on Hayward's part since Rafe had suspicions that Hayward may have a crush on you, which only fueled his anger towards Hayward and the meetings.

If Rafe ever discovered Heyward's true feelings for you, he wouldn't hesitate to resurrect the violence of their teenage years. He'd make you watch as he reminded Heyward exactly who you belonged to, letting Heyward's blood stain his thousand-dollar leather shoes. After all, what better way to prove his love than marking his expensive Italian leather with the consequences of wanting what's his? Some men send flowers – Rafe Cameron sends messages written in bruises and blood.

The boardroom felt thick with tension as Rafe's attention ping-ponged between the financial reports and the way Heyward kept leaning toward you. His knuckles turned white around his Mont Blanc pen every time Heyward whispered something in your ear, every time you smiled politely in response.

The irony wasn't lost on him – Heyward's own secretary sat barely three feet away, yet here he was, hovering over what belonged to Rafe. His secretary. His territory.

By the fourth meeting, Rafe found himself on the brink of madness, his father, Ward Cameron, drawling tone grating on his nerves.

Mentally detached, he fantasized about indulging in a line of cocaine to awaken his senses, only to have his mind wander to envisioning himself ravishing you right atop the conference table in full view of everyone.

His imagination spiraled further, picturing the new maintenance girl he saw a couple nights ago, pleasuring you while you, upside down like a flipped turtle, sucking his cock.

A sudden pang of guilt hit Rafe as he remembered that he needed to order another batch of his "special" supplies from Barry.

He wondered if you, his new secretary, would be willing to make the call for him. His former assistant would have handled it without question, but she was long gone now.

Rafe resumed thinking about you, him, and the maintenance girl having a very sexy threesome on the conference table; he's jolted back to the present as his father's voice rings out, drawing his attention to the press room, where every man's gaze is fixed on him.

The gentle touch of your hand on the padded sleeve of his suit stirs him, and he feels like popping a boner from your warm touch.

He asks Ward to repeat himself.

Ward's voice was agitated, his tone indicating his impatience with his son. "Rafe, I want you to deal with the Morocco situation," he repeated firmly.

Later on, Rafe fumed over his father's request in his newly personalized office. Rafe's response was harsh and tense as he spat at his father, "How fair is it to dump all of this on me?!"

He had initially been planning for a sleek, earthy-toned with a black and brown look for his office. But when you mentioned your preference for dark blue and white, Rafe couldn't resist. After all, he always looked delectable in those colors, you told him (and yes, delectable was the exact word you used). So Rafe dropped his original design and went with a nautical theme instead.

"Well, son," Ward's voice cut through the air like ice, "if you could tear your eyes away from your secretary for five minutes, you might understand why the Morocco deal is crucial for this company's future."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "I wasn't--"

"Save it," Ward interrupted, his calm facade cracking. "I've seen this before, Rafe. The way you look at her, how you've redecorated your entire office to her taste. Just like all the others." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "How many secretaries have we lost because of you? How many NDAs have I had to sign?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Rafe's hands curled into fists, his cerulean eyes darkening with something dangerous. "This one's different," he growled.

"That's what you said about the last one." Ward's laugh was bitter. "And the one before that. Face it, son - you're becoming predictable. By this time next month, I'll be interviewing replacements. Again."

"Look," Ward's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, but Rafe wasn't about to let him finish that thought.

"No, you look," he spits at his father. "You're always pulling this crap on me - sending me off to do your dirty work like some kind of expendable pawn. 'Send Rafe to northwest Africa for two months, with our worst fucking clients' " Rafe said, fake laughing and clapping all the while." Well the joke's on me, isn't it?" Rafe's eyes blaze with anger and bitterness as years of resentment bubble to the surface.

The words flew out of Rafe's mouth like venomous arrows, each one stinging with a sharp and bitter rage. "You wouldn't dare do this to Sarah, dad--your perfect little princess. But me? I'm just the expendable son, right? Send me on a ten hour flight, unpaid, to fix someone else's mistakes!" His voice dripped with disdain as he imitated his father's words in a mocking tone.

But Ward was not cowed by his son's outburst. "Rafe, please just calm down and listen--"

Rafe's words were sharp as he cut Ward off. "Don't play dumb with me, Dad. I know exactly why you're sending me to South Africa - it's a punishment, a way to get rid of me." The tension in the office was thick and palpable as Ward yelled back, their argument echoing off the walls for all to hear.

But amidst the chaos, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity and nosiness. You had been waiting outside Rafe's office, ready to deliver an urgent message about his 3 o'clock lunch meeting with another Mortgage Broker, Dennis Rutherford.

As time ticked by and Rafe's chauffeured car waited impatiently outside, you knew you had to intervene before it was too late.

Bursting into the office uninvited, you were greeted with the sight of father and son locked in a heated battle, their words laced with anger and resentment. This was not just another work disagreement - this was a deep-rooted family conflict that threatened to tear them apart.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen." you awkwardly say, getting both men's attention.

Had it been anyone else, Rafe would have immediately fired them for barging in like that. However, since it was you—and he hadn’t yet had the chance to sleep with you—Rafe merely shouted a sharp "What?!" that made you recoil in fear. He felt awful about your reaction but thought he could make it up to you later when his tongue is knee-deep into your pussy.

"Your 3'oclock, sir--with Mr.Rutherford." You say, trying to mask their intimidation.

"Shit." Rafe cursed, swiping a hand across his growing buzzed head. "Did you call the chauffeur?" he asked you.

You acknowledge with a bow of your head, responding, Of course, sir, as you pass his briefcase into his hands. Rafe longed to refer to you as his good girl, yet with his father present in the room—and after already being seen openly "oogling" you earlier by his father and possibly others—he hesitated.

While escorting Rafe from the office, he looks at you and remarks:

"Join me and Rutherford for lunch."

Your heart races as you scramble to find an excuse. "I-I have a mountain of work to catch up on--"

"I don't recall asking you," he sneers, cutting you off. "I was telling you."

Twenty minutes past the scheduled meeting time, and Rafe had already downed three vodka shots, each one burning away at his paper-thin patience. The bar at Roots, despite its upscale pretense, felt suffocating.

You'd been to countless lunch meetings with him before, but something about today felt different. More dangerous. Maybe it was the way his leg kept brushing against yours under the bar, or how his cerulean eyes seemed to devour you between drinks.

Rafe Cameron, with his old money and expensive tastes, ordered another round. You watched, entranced despite yourself, as the alcohol stripped away his careful facade, revealing something raw and hungry underneath.

"Have a drink with me," he murmured, his voice honey-thick with liquor. His glazed eyes fixed on yours, holding secrets you weren't sure you wanted to understand.

"I believe one of us should stay sober, sir," you replied, fighting to keep your voice steady. The 'sir' slipped out automatically, and you watched his pupils dilate at the word.

A dark smile played at his lips as he closed his eyes, savoring your voice like another shot of vodka. Something about your presence seemed to intoxicate him more than the alcohol – a power that thrilled and terrified you in equal measure.

His hand found your knee under the bar, and you clutched your purse tighter, using it like a shield. Rafe noticed – he noticed everything about you – and his smile turned predatory.

"Just one drink," he pressed, sliding a virgin cocktail toward you. "Let go for me." The 'for me' sounded more like a claim than a request.

Forty-seven minutes in, Rutherford finally arrived to find Rafe thoroughly drunk and dangerously unraveled. The moment shattered as Rutherford launched into a tirade about debts – \$250,000 worth of them, spread across every loan shark in the city.

You shifted in your seat, uncomfortably aware of Rafe's heat beside you, the way his expensive cologne mixed with top-shelf vodka.

"The money's coming," Rafe slurred, but his eyes remained sharp, calculating. "Big deals in the pipeline. Major commissions."

Rutherford's lip curled in disgust. "Better hope so, Cameron. Or things get ugly."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Rafe's fist clenched on the bar, his other hand still burning against your knee, his whole body vibrating with barely contained violence.

His thoughts scattered between the mounting pressure, the need for chemical escape, and the way your pulse jumped in your throat every time he leaned too close.

Without realizing it, Rafe grabbed your shoulder roughly and whispered in your ear, nearly dislocating your shoulder blade in the process.

Rafe's desperation was palpable as he leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. "I need you to do something for me," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "There's a guy named Barry. He's got something I need. I need you to pick it up for me."

Your heart raced as you realized what he was asking. "What is it?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze shifting away. "It's a bag of cocaine," he admitted finally. "I need it to clear my head, to think straight. And I need it now."

You knew the risks, but Rafe's desperation was undeniable. He was in deep trouble, and he needed your help, as you looked in those glossy cerulean eyes of his. "Alright," you sighed, "I'll do it. But this is the last time, Mr. Cameron, what will your father think?"

"What he thinks of me already—that I'm just a Rafe, his screw-up of a son," Rafe replied. Despite this, a look of relief spread across his face, although the predatory gleam in his eyes remained. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled business card, pressing it into your palm with trembling fingers. His touch lingered longer than necessary, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Barry works out of the Bellamy Building on 5th," he whispered, his hot breath reeking of vodka against your ear. "Suite 401. Tell him Rafe sent you. And for God's sake, don't let anyone follow you."

Rutherford watched this exchange with cold calculation, his jaw clenched tight. He knew exactly what was happening – he'd seen plenty of rich boys like Rafe drag their employees into their mess before.

You gathered your things, trying to ignore how Rafe's eyes followed your every movement. Just as you stood to leave, he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise.

"One hour," he hissed. "I need it in one hour. Don't disappoint me."

The weight of what you'd agreed to settled heavy in your stomach as you walked toward the exit. Behind you, you could hear Rutherford's gravelly voice resume his threats, but Rafe's attention remained fixed on your retreating form until you disappeared through the door.

The Bellamy Building loomed like a tombstone against the afternoon sky, its worn brick facade a testament to forgotten glory. Inside, the elevator's slow climb gave you too much time to think – about Rafe's hungry cerulean eyes, his lingering touches that burned like brands, how every "yes, sir" seemed to draw you deeper into his web.

Suite 401 lurked at the end of a dimly lit hallway, distinguished only by tarnished brass numbers. Your knuckles rapped against the door – twice, then three times, just as Rafe had instructed. The sound seemed to echo down the empty corridor.

The door creaked open just enough to reveal a sliver of face: tired eyes beneath greasy long black hair, calculating and cold. "Barry?" Your voice emerged steadier than your racing heart. "Rafe Cameron sent me."

The door groaned wider. Barry matched his surroundings perfectly – disheveled but alert, like a crow picking through society's remains. His office was a study in decay: nicotine-stained walls, flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look diseased, and an ancient desk that had witnessed too many secrets.

"Well, well," Barry's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Another one of Rafe's girls." He studied you like a specimen under glass. "You know, you're all starting to blur together. Pretty. Proper. Corruptible." The last word dripped with dark amusement.

He slid a small package across the desk, but when you reached for it, his fingers trapped yours. You jerked the package away.

Inescapably, Barry's raspy laugh followed you as you ascended down the hallway, bouncing off the grimy walls like a bad omen. "Tell Rafe his debt's getting steep," he called after you, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "And honey? Better watch yourself! Pretty secretaries like you have a way of… disappearing around Rafe Cameron."

Barry's laughter echoed through the grimy hallway, following you like a shadow as you rushed toward the elevator. Each click of your heels against the worn floor seemed to mock you: Pretty. Proper. Corruptible. The words burrowed into your mind, mixing with memories of Rafe's heated stares and possessive touches.

Your mind kept circling back to Barry's words – "disappearing around Rafe Cameron" – like a moth drawn to a deadly flame. The phrase echoed in your head, mixing with memories of Rafe's possessive touches and hungry stares. Each floor the elevator descended seemed to bring a new question: How many secretaries came before you? Where did they really go?

The package felt heavier in your hands as you realized maybe it wasn't just cocaine Rafe was addicted to – maybe it was the thrill of watching people fall into his web, one pretty secretary at a time.

The elevator doors couldn't close fast enough. In its mirrored walls, your reflection looked different somehow – as if Barry's words had marked you, changed you. Your phone buzzed in your purse, Rafe's name lighting up the screen, and you realized with a shiver that maybe Barry was right. Maybe you were already corrupted – after all, here you were, picking up cocaine for your boss in a building that reeked of broken dreams and dirty money.

But that didn't mean you were corrupted by Rafe specifically… right? This was just part of the job. Just another task, like scheduling meetings or taking notes while he stared at you across the conference table. Just another "yes, sir" in a long line of things you told yourself were purely professional. Even if your heart raced every time he got too close. Even if you kept saying yes to things that crossed every line you'd ever drawn.

You were just doing your job. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

Back at Roots, you found Rafe alone, Rutherford's absence heavy in the air. His hands trembled as you passed him the package under the bar, his relief palpable. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and led you to the private bathroom in the back.

The fluorescent light buzzed overhead as Rafe arranged neat lines on the marble countertop. You turned to leave, but he caught your reflection in the mirror.

"Stay," he commanded softly. Then, more vulnerable: "Please."

You watched as he inhaled sharply, his body relaxing as the cocaine hit his system. When he straightened up, his eyes met yours in the mirror – pupils blown wide, but somehow clearer than before.

"Barry mentioned the money you owe him," you say carefully, your voice echoing off the pristine walls of the family restroom. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Rafe's sharp features as he straightens up from the sink, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Suddenly, the mood shifts. His cocaine-induced sniffles transform into something that sounds devastatingly like tears.

"You know what scares me?" Rafe says slowly, his cerulean eyes never leaving your reflection. "Not the money I owe. Not my father. Not even my fucking addiction." His voice cracks perfectly – a rehearsed break he's perfected over years of practice.

"I'm nothing but Dad's fuck-up son. A disappointment. A monster." He laughs bitterly, running a trembling hand through his hair. "But you… god, you're different. You're so good, so perfect. The best secretary I've ever had." His voice drops to a reverent whisper. "The way you anticipate my needs, how you handle everything with such grace. The only one who's ever really seen me, really understood."

His fingers trace your reflection in the mirror, and his eyes darken with something dangerous. "You're too pure for this world, too good for someone like me. The way you look at me like I could be better… like I'm worth saving…" He shakes his head, voice thick with manufactured emotion. "It kills me knowing I'll destroy you too. Just like I destroy everything else I touch. But god, you make me want to try to be better."

Your heart ached at his words. Without thinking, you reached up to touch his cheek, your palm cradling his face as if you could hold his broken pieces together. "You're drunk Mr. Cameron, you don't mean any of these things do you?"

"Rafe," he interrupted, leaning into your touch like a starved man finding sustenance. "Please… just call me Rafe." His cerulean eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

But you noticed, even through the haze of this intimate moment, how Rafe never actually answered your question. Like everything else with him, the vulnerability was a beautiful distraction from the truth.

You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the pain, the self-loathing. It made you want to save him, to prove him wrong about himself. And that's exactly what he was counting on.

Because what you missed, in that moment of compassion, was the calculating gleam behind his tears. The slight upturn of his lips as you fell perfectly into place. The way his hand tightened possessively on your waist, marking you as his next conquest.

"I know I can be a lot sometimes, but I need you to stay my secretary, whatever happens," he whispered against your palm, each word carefully chosen to ensnare you further. His lips brush your skin as he speaks, making the moment feel more intimate than it should. "Because you're the only person in my life who sees me. Really sees me."

The confession lands exactly as he intended – a perfect mix of vulnerability and need that makes it impossible to refuse him. Rafe knows what he's doing, dropping these words like anchors to keep you tethered to him, and the worst part is that it's working.

You hadn't known exactly what Rafe meant by that "Really sees me"--or any of the other drunken babble, but seeing as he was clearly heavily intoxicated, and needed your comfort, that didn't matter now. You whispered back words of comfort, of understanding, unaware that each soothing word was another step deeper into Rafe Cameron's carefully laid trap.

Meanwhile, Rafe Cameron smiled into your palm – a predatory curve of lips that you couldn't see from your angle, the kind of smile that should have warned you that comfort was the last thing he actually needed.

The bathroom's fluorescent light flickered once, casting strange shadows across his face. In that brief moment of darkness, his mask slipped, revealing something hungry and triumphant in his expression. But by the time the light steadied again, all you could see was the broken man you desperately wanted to fix.

After all, the best predators know exactly how to play wounded.

a/n: thanks for making it to the end of this chapter!! as always all likes comments, and reblog keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

Taglist -

@trapistani @alexxavicry @rafestoothbrush @ttrinity @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4rafey @Itristessedureratoujours @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @yoongling @lilithblackkk

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stormvanari · 4 months ago

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Day 1: Fav OC

After Darian Vernworth took the 2023 spotlight, H swoops in for the 2024 spotlight! But why is she one of my favorites? There's a couple reasons:

The Grim Ripper inspiration: while her design evokes more of a plague doctor (and I love them), it's the Grim Ripper that I took heavy inspiration from when it comes to designing H. Moreover, I thought, "I need a harbinger DD." Plus, I like capes and masks, which both accessories are the result of H's story: it all started with forks and knives being constantly thrown onto her Worker Drone self. She wore a mask carved by Tessa to protect herself from incoming projectiles thrown by her bosses but was unable to wear a tablecloth due to a strict dress code. Years later on the exoplanet Lanthanum-57, CYN granted H her signature cape and (upgraded) mask with glass eye sockets.

"Bookbird": I enjoy imagining scenarios involving H collecting random items like bones, cameras, books (gothic fiction is her favorite), and frozen owl pellets (to H, it's like finding gold buried in the snow). She's also a photographer who's always exploring Lanthanum-57 when she isn't actively hunting.

Messy Relationships: H doesn't like being ordered around: she's endured enough abuse from Mr. and Mrs. Elliot, and her theatric squad leader SD-I. As a result, H harbors intense envy towards the Workers being free from control. But meeting the overprotective W begins to change the caped DDs' perspective towards the Workers in particular.

Acts like a birb

#bweirdOCtober #serial designation h #won’t tag the series since these are old art that i already posted but she is my main murder drones oc #H is the protagonist of her story on Lanthanum-57 (an exoplanet) and she's also squadmates with Leader I and Pilot E #the former H does not get along very well and hates more than E for being a bystander of H and I's disputes

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fxntimxmusex · 25 days ago

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⊱ @xxcolorfulmusesxx ⊰

"Here" V gave Lizzy a charm "It's for you to get better grades"

#👓 A Former Murder Drone: ⊱ Serial Designation V ⊰#xxcolorfulmusesxx

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mylove-iv · 2 months ago

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⠀𐔌 . ⋮ make you want it .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ʚ hoshina soshiro x fem! reader ɞ

synopsis: no one in the third division is blind enough to see the way their vice-captain switches up with you, the vice-captain of the first division. somehow their laid-back and cheery vice-captain becomes an absolute menace whenever he’s in your presence and you decide that it’s time that you’ve finally had enough.

genres: romance, suggestive and a bit explicit, mature, 18+ (mdni).

content warnings: profane language, biting, dry humping, manhandling, down bad! hoshi haha.

word count: 4.02k words.

author's note: late birthday fic for my hubby! i really needed down bad! hoshi bc in most fics, he's cool n suave but fuck, i want him desperate (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

‎‧₊ ─ masterlist .ᐟ ༘

As the meeting drones on, you find yourself rapidly blinking away the fatigue yet a sudden jolt to your foot beneath the table startles you awake.

Your eyes fly up to the person who struck your foot and your eyebrows automatically wrinkle in dismay at the sight of Hoshina Soshiro’s pleased grin and mirth-laden wine-red eyes.

Sleepy? He mouths cheekily as you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, a sweet, honeyed smile stretches at your lips and you notice Soshiro’s eyes falling slightly from your eyes to something lower.

Stars, your lips look so fuckin’ soft-

His eyes widen as he’s pulled from his lecherous thoughts when you pull your foot back before landing a solid kick to his shin with the hard heel of your boot.

Soshiro glares as you smile innocently—teasingly—before mouthing back, Hurts?

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

The meeting is adjourned and you’re quick to flick Gen’s forehead, rousing him from his phone as a snarl tugging at his lips while the words “Game Over” is in bold red text is splattered across his phone’s screen.

He turns to you quickly, his mouth unfurling to spew insults but the look in your eyes has Gen biting his tongue as you both stand from the table. “Gen, review the files regarding the energy traces detailed in Tokyo Bay.”

You spare a nod to Mina Ashiro before heading out of the conference room, not bothering to say a word to her Vice-Captain despite feeling the heat of Soshiro’s stare lingering on your form.

Regardless, you busy yourself with reviewing the files in your hand as you unconsciously bite your bottom lip when you read the data provided.

Tokyo is long overdue for another bivalent event.

Your mind races with protocols and plans to approve regarding civilians and even your own soldiers but you’re ripped from your thoughts when you walk into something hard and firm.

The scent of sweetened chestnuts and powdered sugar invades your nose before the documents are plucked out of your hands, “Hoshina,” Your nose wrinkles cutely and a cheshire grin spreads across the said man’s face.

“What do you want?” You ask flatly, your hand reaching for the documents before he’s swiping it out of your reach.

“Just reviewin’ the files again, Vice-Cap.” He murmurs, flicking through your files as you blink at him unimpressed.

“You were given a copy, Hoshina,” You mutter, your annoyance starting to flare and from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, you know that bastard knows how much of an annoyance he’s been these past few days.

“Is that how you speak to yer fellow Vice-Captain and former batch member?” Hoshina teases, wiggling your documents above you just out of reach.

An odd look becomes apparent in your eyes, something subtle and fleeting that even Hoshina couldn’t pinpoint before your irritation is quick to mask it.

“Mh,” You murmur, stepping closer to him, your chest brushing against his as you stare up at him.

Hoshina’s breath hitches as your fingers hook onto the belt loops of his pants before you pull him towards you, his chest flush against yours.

Your eyes intensify and Hoshina is entranced before his eyes slip low to trace the swell of your plush lips. He feels his resolve faltering as your hands wander up the planes of his chest, your touch soft and feather-light enough to tease.

A shudder works down his spine as your nails gently trace his shoulders and Hoshina has to hold back the urge to groan, utterly enraptured by your blistering eyes and the feeling of your body against his.

His arms unconsciously lower as he succumbs to the urge to hold your hips and before Hoshina is able to act on any of his feral impulses, your soft, pliant body is ripped from his.

As are the documents he held in his hands.

You step away from him and he feels a swell of irritation at the sight of your nonchalant eyes, seemingly unaffected by him unlike how you were able to invoke such a profound and heated response from him.

His now free hands are itching to squeeze the swell of your hips and bring your body back against his, yet the glare you shoot his way sends bolts excitement through his veins.

“Last time I checked, it was you who ran your tongue, Hoshi.” You retorted over your shoulder, uttering his name with a false sweetness before you’re brushing past him and disappearing down the corridor.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

During the entirety of the joint training session between the First and Third Divisions, it became known to most officers in both divisions that there were underlying tensions between each respective division’s Vice-Captain.

It came as a shock to many to see Hoshina’s teasings turning sharp whenever it came to you as they usually see him as the lax one whenever Narumi Gen involves him in his childish spats.

Despite it all, you fought Hoshina’s quips with your own that are equally and if not much more scathing and venomous than his own, much to the awe and shock of many.

During dinner, Reno caught murmurs of you and his Vice-Captain, “Apparently they were in the same batch of officers, equally leveled as close combatants too.”

He nudges Kafka and the latter is quick and equally shameless to prod. “What’s up with them though? Vice-Captain Hoshina’s relationship with Vice-Captain L/n seems worse than his relationship with Captain Narumi.” He mutters.

An officer, who Reno recognizes as one from your personal platoon, laughs. “They were close before but Vice-Cap Hoshina ran his tongue too much.”

Reno and Kafka spare a glance to each other as your officer smiles, “Apparently, Vice-Cap Hoshina scorned my Vice-Cap by saying that he’d rather be eaten by a kaiju than kiss her while they were batch officers.”

Their jaws drop at the information revealed because it’s utterly baffling. The surprise is palpable on Kafka’s face much to the chagrin of your officer.

“Exactly, right? Vice-Cap L/n’s such a total babe too.” Fellow officers agree, some commenting on how sweet and hard-working you are too.

“If I were Vice-Captain Hoshina, I would’ve bagged Vice-Captain L/n quick.” Kafka mutters, downing his cup of water as fellow officers quip in on how they’d do the same-

A sudden chill surrounds the table as Soshiro's voice enters their ears, “Who’s baggin’ who now?” He asks with a smile on his face that is anything but friendly.

Kafka chokes on his water as he averts his gaze from his own Vice-Captain’s and many officers at the table bear witness to the uncharacteristic irritation lighting up Hoshina Soshiro’s wine-red eyes.

Soshiro’s eyes trail across the room before they land on your form as you laugh at Narumi Gen’s disgruntled form, teasing him relentlessly with that stupidly beautiful smile of yours that haunts his dreams.

He watches unamused as Narumi wraps his arm around your neck before giving you a noogie.

Soshiro’s jaw ticks, a predatory sense of possessiveness flaring up within him as he sees you and Narumi too close for his liking.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

Soshiro sighs, unconsciously flicking through the civilian evacuation protocols he found sitting atop his desk already signed and reviewed by you. A challenging grin tugged at his lips when he saw that your captain had yet to sign off on such papers.

So, here he is now, standing outside of Narumi’s temporary office at Tachikawa base ready to swipe the door open when his keen ears pick up on a breathy groan of Narumi’s first name.

His body freezes when the realization dawns on him, a feminine voice, so sweet and sultry and so fucking you.

Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s throwing the door wide open before Soshiros’s startled currant-red eyes land on you and Narumi’s forms.

Your captain is hunched over his desk as you repeatedly slap some documents on his head. “Gen.” You mutter again, your groan tapering off breathily that has Soshiro’s core tightening.

Narumi stays silent, grumbling before you smack his head again, a bit harder this time. “Gen, please!” You huff and Hoshina can hear the slight whine in your tone, shooting pure heat into his veins.

Fuck.

Soshiro has a bad, bad feeling that if you were to use the word ‘please,’ he knows he would give you whatever you desired.

Suddenly, Soshiro’s eyes seem to focus and his breathing nearly stops when he takes you in, clad in nothing but so baggy sweats that traitorously hangs loosely off your hips and a skin-tight tank top that hugs your figure so fucking well.

He swallows thickly, at a loss of words before that same infuriating and heated feeling in his gut ignites once more when he originally saw the close proximity between you and your Captain at dinner.

Because fuck, in all of the years he’s known you, all he’s seen you are either the combat suit or the formal attire of the JAKDF but Narumi on the other hand, he gets to see you like this, homely and showing skin that only Soshiro can ever dream of fucking seeing.

The realization has him seething silently, his jaw clenching tightly. He knows. He knows that he has it down bad for you.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

Narumi grumbles, looking up at you to retort back but the scathing glare you send his way has him pausing before he’s hastily snagging the papers out of your hands.

“They should be approved tomorrow, Gen. I’ll even double check these myself and if I don’t see your appro-”

“I got it, I got it!” Your Captain whines, a pout tugging at his lips as his eyes lazily drift from you to the documents-

Suddenly, Narumi’s rosewood eyes meet the man’s standing in the doorway and he doesn’t bother to hide his ire. Your eyes drift to Soshiro’s form and he can’t help but have the selfish urge in him of wanting your gaze to stay focused on him solely.

“Hoshina, what do you want?” Narumi snaps before his eyes trail back down to the document he’s reading.

Your Vice-Captain. Soshiro finds himself thinking as his eyes stay trained on yours.

Narumi’s annoyance becomes all the more pronounced and before he can retort with another snarky comment, you shove his face away causing your Captain to squawk indignantly.

“Vice-Captain Hoshina,” You nod towards that man, you features cooling into a calm mien. “What can I do for you?”

He steps up to the desk before dropping the documents in front of Narumi who grimaces at the increased amount of paperwork he has to review.

“Reviewed and signed them for you, sweetheart.” Soshiro carefully studies your face for any signs of you losing your composure yet he’s mildly disappointed to see that your eyes are only but unamused.

You look at him for a second longer before bending down to Narumi’s level, whispering something in his ear to which he nods and Soshiro feels his fists clench so tightly he knows the skin above his knuckles have turned white.

Before he knows it, you’re brushing past him and like the lovesick fool he is, he follows obediently, ignoring Narumi’s annoyed yet confused hollers.

Soshiro falls into step with you and you don’t bother to acknowledge him, “Yer always with your Captain.” He mutters off–handedly, an underlying sharpness accompanying his words.

You arch a brow yet you refuse to look at him. “He’s my Captain.” Your response is a wry murmur.

Soshiro grins. “Coulda been my Captain if I hadn’t declined.” His grin turns devious as he sees the slight pause in your step. “Guess he had to settle for second best, huh?”

He feels victorious when your eyes finally meet his and despite how they flare with the heat of your temperament, all Soshiro could feel is glee and excitement with finally rousing such a palpable reaction from you.

“Seems like you still have the bad habit of running your mouth, Hoshi.” You spit his name with such venom it has Soshiro’s heart beating faster in anticipation.

Soshiro laughs, bending to your level. “Let’s settle this, yeah?” He murmurs breathily and from the slight surprise lining your eyes, he knows his eyes are blown out with obvious want and need.

Unexpectedly, you smile sweetly, a saccharine smile that takes Hoshina off guard before you’re moving closer, your nose nuzzling against his as your lips nearly touch his.

Fucking tease.

“Yeah, Hoshi.” You hum softly, forcing Soshiro to swallow thickly, his composure starting to slip before you’re pulling away.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

Soon, you both find yourselves in an empty training room, closing the door behind you as Soshiro sheds his jacket to reveal the black compression shirt that hugs each dip and groove of his chiseled torso.

Tension fills the air but you pay it no mind as after thoroughly stretching your limbs, you walk to the sword rack.

Your hand wraps around the handle of a wooden sword, feeling its weight before locking gazes with Soshiro, a smile on your lips but your eyes were another story, deep, alluring, and absolutely irritated

“Is it that you hate me or is it that you hate the fact that you want me?” You hum lowly, the sound of your voice sending shivers down Hoshina’s spine.

He swallows thickly, wine-red eyes involuntarily rolling down your body as he hungrily takes in the skin of your navel, shoulders, and every bit of exposed skin that he is deprived of.

Against his will, Soshiro’s eyes do a double-take and realization dawns on him. Shit, you’re braless?

Your smile turns into a wicked grin, “You want me bad, huh Hoshi?”

Fuck.

Hoshina Soshiro wasn’t sure if you’ve fallen into his trap or he yours.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

He wasn’t given any time to answer you, seeing as you came in hot, swinging your mock blade with a fierce swiftness that gets him going, feeling the high of being the sole recipient of your undivided attention.

Your blade locks with his, straining against Soshiro’s strength before you're jumping back to create space between you, your intense eyes never leaving his and before you know it, Soshiro is barreling towards you.

A yelp tumbles from your lips as he utilizes his weight and the inertia of his dash to overpower you. A certain text tone rings through the room and you’re distracted by it enough to falter slightly.

Hoshina doesn’t forgive you for your blunder and forcefully wretches your blade from your hand, allowing it to clatter to the ground and away from your grasp

Quickly, he tugs at your dominant hand before twisting it behind you enough to make it ache.

Before you know it, you’re being pushed chest down onto the ground, your knees thudding against the mats harshly.

Soshiro grins down at you as you glare up at him, “Distracted, sweetheart?” He taunts as he feels you go lax.

You smile sweetly, “We aren’t kids anymore, Hoshi.” Your honeyed words are nothing but a coy warning.

One that he doesn’t get.

You kick your leg to swipe at Soshiro’s feet and it corrects your form so you’re lying perfectly beneath him. It takes him by surprise, a second too long which allows you to take the golden opportunity.

The world blurs in his eyes before Soshiro finds himself hunched over you, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly-

And shit, the only thing Soshiro can focus on is the feeling of your body pressed tightly against his.

Your heated eyes are on his and Soshiro finds himself unable to move, utterly captivated with how your hand trails down his back, tracing his spine lightly enough to force him to shudder above you.

Suddenly, he feels the cool edge of one of his katana’s barely kissing the skin of neck.

A smile tugs at your lips, cunning and so fuckin’ seductive that it has Soshiro at a loss for words.

“Distracted, Hoshi?” You murmur lowly—taunting him—throwing his words back at him and he has to suppress the urge to groan at how sultry your voice sounds.

A beat passes, maybe two before Soshiro is able to formulate any words. “That text tone, who is it for?” He asks hoarsely, scarlet eyes boring into your own.

Your eyes twinkle mischievously, answering his question in a faux show of submission, “Gen. It’s Gen who texted.” You beam, a smile on your face.

Soshiro smiles tightly. “Is your Captain all you talk about?” He simpers hauntily but the annoyance and irritation in his eyes are clear—too palpable the usually reserved Hoshina Soshiro.

“Jealous much?” You taunt.

He’s silent and you’re ready to tap out and forget this whole ordeal before Soshiro is saying something that causes your breath to hitch.

“I want you.” His words have you pausing momentarily, enough time to allow Soshiro to overpower you once more.

“I want your sleepy, confused looks when you wake up, and that smile that would follow. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed,” Soshiro mutters, his voice holding a certain type of underlying heat.

Like the calculating man he is, Soshiro’s hands force themselves into intertwining with yours before pinning them down, his body warmth mingling with yours as you’re helplessly pinned beneath him. He leans down close, lips brushing against yours.

“I don’t want to fucking share you.” Soshiro confesses reverently like the sinner he is.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

Heat bolts down Soshiro’s body when you lean up further, yours lips almost locking with his and his surprise is apparent in his eyes as your legs tighten around his waist

The world shifts before it resettles and Soshiro’s eyes land on you perched in his lap, your fingers digging softly into the muscle of his shoulders as he fights to sit up, using his arms to support his weight.

You revel in how raw and heavy Soshiro’s gaze has gotten, his eyes no longer looking into yours as they dazedly trail down to focus on your plump lips and you feel his body press closer, lips nearing yours.

But before he’s able to capture your lips, your hand trails across the nape of his neck, your fingertips tangling in the roots of his undercut before gently tugging, eliciting a deep groan that shoots a sweltering warmth into your bloodstream.

“Last time I remember, Hoshi,” You purr softly as your other hand faintly traces the side of his neck, feeling his pulse stutter beneath your fingertips. “You said you’d rather be eaten by a kaiju than kiss me.”

“Do you always have to do that? Pay such close attention to what people say?” He scoffs, vermillion eyes still trained on your lips.

Mischievously, your tongue peeks out before casually running over your bottom lip, and you revel in how Soshiro’s jaw ticks in impatience.

You shake your head gently before smiling teasingly, forcing his dazed eyes to meet yours as you tug at his roots once more, his low and breathy groan echoing through your ears. “Only what you say, Hoshi.”

“Fuck.” His eyes harden and you’re delighted to see clear annoyance simmering in his deep, wine-red eyes.

You’re absolutely fucking pleased to see how much you truly affect him despite that joke of a facade he puts up with you in front of others—thrilled to see how much you can drag him into a state of such want and need that’s a complete opposite from his usual patient and composed self.

Soshiro swallows thickly as he stares up at you impatiently before you’re allowing your lips to curl into a coy smile. His eyes narrow before his hands slither from your legs to your hips, squeezing firmly—a warning.

Your smile widens, never one to mind any risks or repercussions, you move closer, hips grinding against his and you feel how sinfully hard Soshiro is. His eyes are blown out as they are dazed, seemingly utterly drunk on the feeling of you.

You laugh as you tighten your grip in Soshiro’s roots, a deep, throaty groan tumbling from his lips. “I have all the power huh, Hoshi? Being able to sway the Third Division’s Vice-Captain with a mere smile and how you pathetically bend to me and my whims.”

He eyes narrow into a sharp glare, his poisonous tongue ready to spit back something venomous at you but you cup his face, your lips dangerously close to his that it has him fucking floundering, his mind blanking with nothing but you in it.

Soshiros hands—shameless as they are talented—have begun to wander, slipping below the band of your sweats before cupping your ass, taking a handful before squeezing harshly and angling your hips just right so that it forces a faint moan to tumble from your lips.

Stars, you sound so fuckin’ sexy but, your eyes, fuck—

Your dangerously sultry eyes stay locked on his, absolute pools of lust that Soshiro would willingly drown himself in. “You so pretty, Hoshi, so pretty I could cry.” You whisper like temptation and he knows, fuck, he knows that he’s fallen into your alluring trap.

Your lips curl into that devious smile that he absolutely loves, all teasing yet so fucking beautiful. “‘N you’re all mine, mine, huh Hoshi?”

Fuck.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

“Yeah,” Soshiro rasps as one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your roots harshly. “‘M all yours baby.”

Your eyes widen before Soshiro is quickly pulling your lips against his in a searing kiss that has the heat in your stomach coiling tighter as you melt against his hard chest, his hand squeezing your hip possessively as he grinds you deliciously over his aching hard-on.

Barely pulling away for air, Soshiro drags you back as you mutter a weak ‘fuck’ against his hungry lips, his hand trailing back into your sweats before he kneads your ass like the touch-starved man he his, reveling in your restrained whimpers.

Soshiro’s tongue licks the seam of your lips before pushing his way in, savoring how your taste as he shudders from the deep and slow grind of your hips against his crotch and how your nails ruthlessly rake down the muscles of his back and fuck, it hurts so good.

Cruelly, you pull away, panting against his lips as he chases yours but you’re completely breathless when you take him in, swollen and kiss-bitten lips parted in soft huffs as his drunk dazed eyes stare up at you so fucking reverently and hungrily, it has you fluttering.

Soshiro’s usually focused crimson eyes are an absolute sight for sore eyes with how blown out they are with a blatant need and wanton desire, hunger and impatience mingling in a sinful pool of a deep, dark red hue.

And it’s all for you.

But before he can crash lips against yours once more, the kaiju alarm blares through the training room.

Soshiro groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you huff a laugh, one that tapers off into a breathy moan when his teeth bites down on the supple skin of your neck, insistent on leaving marks—his marks.

You cup his face, titling his chin up so his eyes meet yours. A sweet smile graces your face when you see a glimmer of something softer beneath the carnal want churning in Soshiro’s gaze.

Pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, Soshiro feels his heart soften but the long simmering desire he has for you has him wanting more of you, fuck, he needs more.

But before he’s able to pull you in to satiate his greed and hunger, you’re quickly moving off his lap, your legs carrying you to the door in wide strides as he just stares in awe at how your hips sway, your sweats loose enough to allow him a peek of that white lace hugging your skin—shit.

Absolute fuckin’ tease.

You send him a soft, honeyed grin that has the heat in his stomach curling tighter as he suppresses a groan. “See you on the field, Soshiro.” You hum alluringly before you’re out the door.

Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

#𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.°♡༉‧₊#kaiju no. 8: gallery of the vice-captain ༉‧₊˚✧#hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #kaiju no.8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soshiro x you #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #kaiju no. 8 fic #hoshina soshiro fic #hoshina soshiro smut

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