#game set match. idiots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintobio · 7 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.

rule #1: even if the world crumbles down in front of you, never, ever trust sylus with your heart. because even the fiercest flames can't match the danger of loving a man like him.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. villain!reader, reader works for onychinus, reader is not l&ds!mc, set in the N109 zone, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, baby doll, darling, sweetie), unprotected sex, throatfucking (m!receiving), cunnilingus (f!receiving), cum-eating, slight dom/sub play, spitting, hair-pulling, spanking, biting, choking, overstimulation, bondage, blindfolding, lots of jealousy, possessiveness, yandere themes, stalking, blood, violence, usage of guns, allusions to prostitution, killings, death, *coughs* that one harley+joker scene.

♱ notes. 8.2k words. inspired by this song bcos i can’t stop thinking abt him for days

“Boss is looking for ‘ya.”

It was already nighttime when you emerged from the library, only to encounter the eccentric twins, Luke and Kieran, lounging on the window sill as if they had been waiting for you to come out of your bat cave. They always donned their signature uniforms of leathered attire and beaked masks, an outfit reminiscent of Sylus’s mechanical crow, Mephisto. Behind their silhouettes, the red glow of the blood moon poured through the window, casting an eerie, crimson hue across the dimly lit hallways. Any normal person would have found such an atmosphere disturbing.

But that was the N109 Zone for you—a dark, lawless, enigmatic place you called home.

“Is he in his room already?” you asked, quietly closing the door behind you. In your arm was a thick book, an archival file you had spent nearly two hours searching for. It contained records of historical events, of life before the Chronorift Catastrophe of 2034, before the Deepspace Tunnel was opened. Sylus had tasked you with finding the file for reasons he didn’t care to disclose.

A curious Luke tilted his head and swung his feet in the air as he pointed at the book. “Let me guess,” he began with a teasing tone, “Is that book some sort of Kama Sutra?”

Kieran’s snigger followed. “I bet it is, since it’s her birthday in a few hours.”

“Very funny,” was your quick retort. “It’s a history book, you idiots. Sylus needs it for something.”

The twins then let out a teasing coo. “Aww, so no birthday ‘fun’ for you?” asked Luke, “I thought sleeping with your boss would have its perks, too.”

Although his comment was meant to be a joke, you bristled at his jab at your professionalism. It had been a few years since you started this kind of relationship with Sylus, with him being your boss and the leader of Onychinus, and with you as his personal assistant and, well… escort.

In and out of the N109 Zone, Sylus was a popular man for both good and bad reasons. His notoriety was mostly for his influence, and sometimes for his crimes. He was known to be unforgiving—a brute man who carried no conscience towards his enemies. One wrong move and you’d find yourself six feet under. Perhaps, that was what you admired so much about him. His aura, his domineering persona, his dangerous charm. He had mastered the art of seduction, the sin of hunger and desire. His power. There was no one like him.

And so, you were the happiest woman alive when what began as an unrequited admiration eventually blossomed into something more. Spending more time with your boss played a pivotal role in gaining his interest towards you, because day-by-day he started to learn how much of an asset you could be for him. You were his prized possession. You were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Despite Luke and Kieran’s constant warnings of the abyss you were throwing yourself into, you were willing to be a pawn in Sylus’s game of chess. You wanted to be the Queen next to a King. Because that meant you were too valuable to simply set aside.

Yet Sylus was never one to clarify the nature of your relationship. He’d often say there was no need to clear up such a silly thing. All you knew was that when Sylus needed you, he had to have you. In all ways. He’d still act professional and distant depending on the audience. But behind closed doors, he spoiled you like a princess, treated you like a queen, and worshiped you like a saint. He was a sadistic, draconic man towards others, but he always had a gentle spot for you. Only for you.

And that was a spot you would never, ever share with anyone else.

“Whatever. I gotta go see him,” you excused yourself from the two, just as one of them tossed a black box to you. “Is this my present?”

The twins jumped down from the window sill in perfect sync. “Advance happy birthday to the princess of Onychinus. Make sure to open the gift when boss is around.”

Your lips spread into a smile as you held the box in your free hand. Luke and Kieran giving you a gift was the last thing you would expect from them. “Why, thank you—”

“Yeah, yeah. You should go see him now,” said Kieran, pushing you forward by the shoulders. “Can’t keep boss waiting.”

By the time you reached Sylus’s door, the twins’ distant, mischievous chuckles then echoed down the hall. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head before grasping the door handles, stepping inside of Sylus’s bedroom with slow, measured steps. You didn’t know why you were nervous. As the door shut behind you, the familiar scent of leather, cardamom, and sandalwood immediately enveloped you like a fragrant, hallucinatory mist. However, his king-sized bed lay empty with the sheets still perfectly arranged. There were no signs of him anywhere, until the sound of cascading rainwater drew your gaze toward the bathroom, where his tall figure was visible through the frosted glass. He was engaged in a steamy shower, clearly unaware of the intruder that entered his room just now.

“Boss?” you called out, standing by his bed. “I’ll leave the file on your nightstand.”

Receiving no response, you placed the book on the bedside table and waited for him patiently. Should you stay or should you leave? It usually depends on Sylus’s mood. There were nights where he wanted to be left alone, and nights where he craved your presence. His lack of response may be a sign to exit his room. But as you prepared yourself to leave thinking that Sylus purposely ignored you, a certain black velvet box resting on his nightstand suddenly caught your eye. Unlike the typical small box that might hold a ring, this one was more rectangular in shape and you were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was your curiosity that led you to touch the soft surface, wondering what lay beneath it.

Is it for me…?

“They say curiosity kills a cat.” Sylus’s deep, resonant voice broke your trance as he stepped out of the shower. Wrapped in nothing but a white towel around his waist, his muscular form was on full display as he approached you with assertive footsteps. Every curve of his muscle flexed as he moved. And his carnelian eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners of his thin, pinkish lips curving upward when he walked closer to you. “Touching my things without permission. Are you asking to be punished, kitten?”

Your heart raced as he closed the distance. Yet, maintaining composure around Sylus was a skill you had honed since the day you began working for him. “Oh, forgive me, master,” you merely teased. “It caught my attention.”

“Curious about the box or who it’s for?” he taunted, raking his fingers through his damp gray hair. Beads of water glistened on his bare skin, and you found your gaze wandering to his perfectly sculpted abs until you felt his finger lifting your chin up. “Eyes on me, honey. Don’t tell me you thought that velvet box was for you?”

So it isn’t? You suppressed a disappointed expression, but your clouded eyes betrayed you. “No, I… just curious.”

“Is that a sad kitten I see?” he asked, tilting his head to catch even the slightest changes in your expression. “You wanna open the box?”

“No, thank you.” Your stubbornness prevailed this time.

Sylus’s lips curved into a smile as he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around your waist and turning you gently. He then went on to open the velvet box and fastened a silver necklace around your neck. “Happy birthday, my darling,” he whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he planted a tender kiss on your shoulder. “That’s a red beryl crystal—one of the rarest gemstones in the world.”

Your eyes sparkled in awe as you touched the red pendant, feeling its exquisite value beneath your fingertips. Oh… to receive such beautiful, rare gem from the boss of Onychinus himself. You were too overwhelmed with appreciation as you turned and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Sy!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling at his effort. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

He returned your gaze with a smug look. “You better love it. I sacrificed two gold bullets just to get that for you, sweetie.”

“You…” Your eyes widened at the implication behind his words. Someone’s life was lost in exchange for your birthday gift. It was beyond your expectations to know that Sylus went to such macabre lengths just to surprise you, but banality was his worst enemy, and the last thing he would do was be called boring over things like birthday surprises. “...Well, thank you. I’ll treasure it forever, my love.”

“Now,” he said, abruptly breaking the sweet moment as he glanced at the other box on his bed. You realized he was scrutinizing the gift from the twins, which you had unwittingly left behind when you hugged him. His expression darkened slightly, clearly displeased at the foreign object on his bed. “Care to tell me where this is from? Or did some other bastard get you a present before I did?” he questioned, “Tell me his name, his identity. Give me his location.”

Chuckling, you cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s not what you think. Luke and Kieran gave it to me before I came here.”

Still unimpressed, he raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the box. “Who told you to receive gifts from other men?”

“I…”

“Let’s see what’s inside, shall we?”

“I’m sure it’s just some…” you began, hurriedly untying the ribbon at the sight of Sylus’s growing pique. But as you opened the box, your mouth dropped in shock upon seeing a black lingerie set inside. An awkward laugh forced its way out of your mouth. Those two! “I… Ha-ha! They fool around too much. Don’t mind it. I’m just gonna throw it away.”

Sylus’s frown quickly transformed into a deep chuckle as he lifted the lingerie by the strap, his eyes widening with interest as he examined the lace corset. “Why don’t you try wearing it first, baby doll?” he suggested, an idea clearly forming in his mind. “It’s rude to toss aside a gift.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, you thought, feeling your cheeks flush under his gaze. You almost lost your mind when he looked down at you with a roguish smirk, like he was an animal who’s about to devour his first meal in a long time. “You really want me to put it on?”

“Since it’s your special day,” he insisted, settling at the edge of his bed while keeping you positioned between his legs, “Let me help you with that.” His tone was more command than suggestion as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, peeling it away from your body. “That’s it, be a good kitten. Just follow your master’s orders and you’ll do just fine.”

You felt his cold fingertips brushing against your chest as he slipped your blouse down, his hands reaching behind to unclasp your bra and set your breasts free. Instinctively, you shied away from the intensity of his gaze and covered your chest. But he was quick to grab your wrist, an eyebrow raised at your disobedience. “I’m sorry…”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he mumbled in a deep, orotund voice before continuing to undress you. His hand now fiddled with your pants, unzipping and sliding it down your legs in a painfully slow way. To your surprise, he had also pulled your underwear down along with your pants, leaving your lower body as bare as it could be. “Looks like my kitten’s prepared,” he said with a lowly chuckle, his gaze locked on your freshly waxed lady part. “But I’ll take my time before I devour you.”

Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand on where his shoulder and neck met. All your clothes were discarded on the floor and you were nothing but naked in front of the very man you so deeply adored. He alone was the most perfect gift for you. “Boss…” your voice came out like a whisper, “About your upcoming transaction with Mr. Davis. H-He agrees to meet at the nightclub this Friday.”

Sylus displayed a devilish smirk, noticing your effort in opening a subject to distract yourself from the compromising situation he had put you in. Though, instead of shaming you further, he had decided to play the part. “I’m surprised you managed to bargain with him,” he praised, slipping in a black, lace underwear up your legs. It barely covered your folds, and with Sylus’s warm breath tickling your cunny, you knew that your underwear would only be ripped apart sooner or later. “But then again, it must be your… irresistible charm that made him agree to meet up,” with a pause, he made a twirling gesture with his finger. “Turn around for me, sweetie.”

You did as told, chest rising and falling deeply as your boss began to tie the corset behind you. It was too tight, but he seemed to have liked it that way, because your breasts were almost popping out of the padding. “I-I… Is it supposed to be this tight?” you asked, hesitantly, “I can’t breathe.”

“It’s perfect.” He let out a deep chuckle before suddenly pushing you down on his bed. The sudden force left your heartbeat somersaulting, the anticipation and nervousness rising deep within you as you looked up at his predatory gaze. “Now, for the best part.”

Sylus whipped out a handcuff and a blindfold from his drawer, and his first action was to grab your wrists and lock it within the silver handcuff around the headboard. The very next thing he did was cover your eyes with the blindfold, tying it neatly behind your head to deprive you of one of your five senses.

“Sylus—?” You weren’t sure what was happening now, and hated that you couldn’t see his handsome face because of the blindfold. Your vision offered nothing but darkness, blinding you from whatever Sylus was planning to do with you in his king-sized bed. There were sounds of fabric rustling around you, the sound of clothing dropping to the floor, and the wet, sloppy noises near your face. When you felt the tip hitting your cheek, you realized it was Sylus touching himself, leaving you to imagine how he was stroking his hard length in front of your face, preparing his cock for a wild night ahead. “Are you—”

“Shh.” Your voice was cut off after he held a strong grip around your jaw, forcing your mouth open before the taste of his cocktip started entering your mouth. Not even halfway in, you already gagged from his cock. He was too huge for your mouth—too thick, too veiny, too lengthy. But nonetheless, despite the threads of saliva that waterfalled on the sides of your mouth, Sylus still shoved his entire length in. He didn’t care if you had started choking from his monstrous cock. He was too focused on burying his member in and out of your mouth, hitting your uvula, and allowing for tears to escape your eyes. “That mouth of yours is heaven for me, honey,” he said, your chin on his hand as he released a deep, guttural groan. “Move your tongue around it.”

“Mmh—ngh!” Even if you were getting asphyxiated, fucking your throat was one of Sylus’s favorite foreplays. And so, like the obedient kitty you were, you started bobbing your head along to the rhythm of his thrusts. You also moved your tongue in circles around his shaft, and Sylus’s moans got louder, turning you on knowing that you were doing great at pleasuring the love of your life. You couldn’t even taste him enough, your mouth was too sore and numb at that point.

Not even long after, he started angling his cock to your cheeks as if he was desperate to feel every inch of your mouth. When he pulled away, you released his member with a pop, and the string of saliva ended up coating your chin. While you couldn’t move your hand to wipe it off, you did try to move your wrists around the handcuff wondering if you could set yourself free.

“Trying to break free?” Sylus’s voice was so near your right ear, the weight of his body becoming heavier on top of you. “We’re not done yet, darling.”

A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss quickly calmed you down. You allowed Sylus to explore your mouth with his tongue, letting him lap you up like a meal he couldn’t stop eating. And with every bite on your lower lip, you were whimpering like a helpless cat. “S-Sylus,” you begged, “S-Sy… I…”

“Hmm?” His mouth was now on your neck, suckling and nibbling on the skin until they would leave purple marks all over.

“Mmh… I want you.”

“Not so soon, birthday girl.” Sylus’s teasing led to him pulling away from you. Now, you were unsure of his next move. But your chest only continued to move in an unsteady rhythm, the lack of sight heightening your auditory sense as a compromise.

The next thing you knew, his manly hands started kneading at your breasts. He cupped them with such a force that made you stop breathing for a moment, focusing the sensation of his touch as he slightly pulled the padding of your corset to peek at one of your tits. In an instant, his mouth was attached to your nub. His tongue licked around your nipple, flicking it playfully before sucking and biting on your mounds.

“Haaah!”

“The twins did well in delivering this gift to you,” he made a subtle remark, releasing your tit from his mouth. His movements suggested he was moving down south, down to where your crotch was, and he only confirmed your thoughts when he began spreading your legs open and pulling your underwear to the side. “Look at how wet that pretty pussy is.”

You moaned at the feeling of Sylus’s finger toying with your entrance. “T-The twins,” you barely said, squirming from the coil you were feeling inside your body. “What do you mean they delivered… the gift? Was it your idea after all?”

Too bad you couldn’t see his face, but you were sure as hell that there was a triumphant smile spreading on it. “How else would they know your bra size, kitten?” he replied in a low voice before surprising you with the feeling of his tongue moving inside your slit, “Only I have access to your body.”

Fuck, fuck. You were going insane. “Mhm—ngh! Aah!”

Sylus’s mouth was rough against your cunt, the tip of his nose tickling your clit as he continued spreading your labia apart to give himself better access inside your pussy. He completely devoured your sopping cunt, grunting and growling like a rabid dog as he alternated between french-kissing your pussy to burying his digits inside. His three fingers orchestrated deep and fast movements against your walls, with each stroke inside earning a wild whimper out of you.

“Haaah—! Sylus, I… I can’t hold it… anymore.”

He found your sweet spot soon enough, and chuckled darkly as you tried to squirm like a pathetic little kitty under him. With your legs dangling on his shoulders, he resumed abusing your sore cunt by fingering your vulva until you were at your seventh heaven. And as soon as you felt the need to pee, you knew he’d only pick up the speed of his fingers even more.

“I-I… Please, Sy… I’m…”

For the first time in your life, you felt yourself squirting all over his bed. Your hips raised itself involuntarily, legs shaking violently on top of his shoulders. The overstimulation was sending you to ecstasy, as if you were in a place where every pleasure in the world was given to you. In your extremely vulnerable state, Sylus chose to grab the opportunity and forced all eight inches of his member inside. He hushed your moans and whimpers by kissing you on the mouth, his lips encasing yours in a loving and passionate exchange.

This was the most erotic you had been with him.

“You’re so fucking sexy to me, Y/N.” His cock moved fast and hard inside you. You could even feel his member twitching as your tight walls gripped him like vacuum, milking him of his every seed until he was fully drained. His lips then trailed around your jawline, then onto the valleys in between your breasts while he went on to thrust even rougher than the last. He plowed his cock inside you like there was no tomorrow, rutting and rutting and rutting like he was desperate to reach his own climax. “This pussy… Can’t get enough of your sweet pussy, kitten.”

“Ah—aah! Mmh—ngh.”

“More?”

“Y-Yes… please!”

“Harder?”

“Mhmm!”

“Faster?”

“S-Sylus!”

“Such a nasty girl you are,” he quipped, your hips now gripped by his strong hands as he sat in bed, readying for the final position. “Next time, I’m gonna eat your ass.”

Gosh. You were already feeling limp under him. And when you felt his hands ripping your panties off, you knew it was game over for you. He was a hungry beast whose desire for lust would make him the worst sinner in hell. You couldn’t contain the loudness of your moans and whimpers as Sylus started thrusting into you at an otherworldly speed, your cunt feeling the soreness of his every slam. The skin-slapping sound dominated his entire room as your slick coated his entire length. At that point, he began biting on your lower leg, his cock doing its last twitch deep inside your cavern. He was balls deep inside, his bollocks slapping against your pussy with every jostle.

“C-Cum…” you pleaded, “Inside me… Please.”

But to your disappointment, Sylus pulled out. You didn’t know where he was releasing his seed until you felt the warm liquid shooting at your stomach. Three times you had asked him to cum inside, and he still continued to refuse. You thought your birthday would have been an exception, but Sylus was too smart for that. He knew knocking you up would ruin his plans. Getting you pregnant would make him lose his chances with her.

“You can sleep on my bed tonight, darling.” Sylus easily released your hand from the cuffs with his evol, and did his own effort in untying the blindfold around your eyes. Little did he know that your tired eyes actually carried pain inside. “Close your eyes now. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You watched as he walked toward his nightstand, oblivious to the pessimistic thoughts swirling in your mind. If only she never existed in his life. If only she was you instead.

“Sylus.” You fixed your gaze on his face. “I love you.”

His eyes widened in panic for a moment before he masked it with indifference. It was as if your declaration had caught him off guard, as if your years of devotion hadn’t already made it clear how deeply in love you were.

“You shouldn’t.”

The N109 Zone’s most famous nightclub was alive with pulsating lights and thumping bass on a Friday night, a den of excess and shadows where shady deals and dangerous liaisons were also par for the course. Sylus was dressed in his signature dark attire, leaning against a plush booth in the corner, and the red glow from the neon lights flickering off his white hair and crimson eyes. Meanwhile, you, draped in a red revealing dress that accentuated your every curve, moved with foxy grace as you joined Sylus at the booth.

Let’s just say Sylus didn’t exactly approve of your dress tonight. He thought it was revealing too much skin that was supposedly for his eyes only. But ever since the night of your birthday where he didn’t return your declaration of love, you started rebelling against your boss. Everything he disliked, you did out of spite. You did them out of the bitterness boiling inside you.

Across from you two, in a secluded corner of the club, sat Sylus’s business partner, a man whose sharp suit and cold gaze reflected a ruthless demeanor. The table between you was littered with documents and blueprints, a clear indication of the shady business transaction underway—an armory deal of massive proportions, weapons, and munitions that could alter the balance of power in the underworld. Sylus’s arsenal of weapons could already destroy Linkon City if he wanted to, but there was no fun in that. It would be too much an easy disposal.

Nonetheless, Sylus’s eyes sparkled with approval as he glanced at the stacks of weaponry displayed before him. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he remarked with a sly grin. “The quality of your armory is unparalleled, Davis. You really outdid yourself this time.”

The business partner, clearly pleased, gave a curt nod. “I aim to please. But payment in cash alone doesn’t always satisfy, does it?”

Sylus leaned back, his gaze shifting to you. You were just settling next to him, your quiet presence commanding everyone’s attention as the low neckline of your red dress drew admiring glances from his business partner. Sylus was quick to notice the man’s eyes lingering on your breasts, a hint of predatory interest flickering in the old man’s gaze.

“Seems like my partner here is quite taken with you,” Sylus mused, hinting at a dangerous edge in his voice. “How about it? Would you like something other than money for your trouble?”

Mr. Davis’s eyes never left you as he smirked, a flicker of greed clouding his gaze. It was obvious to everyone in that booth that the old geezer was undressing you with his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

Sylus’s smile grew sharper. “Y/N here is quite the treasure. If you’re interested, she could be yours for the night. Do what you want with her. What do you say?”

Unbelievable! Stunned by his words, you quickly turned to Sylus in protest. You couldn’t believe he was offering you like some whore to that old man, but you had to hide your disgust after meeting Sylus’s glowing carmine eyes shooting you a knowing look. Just play along and stay quiet, you could almost hear his voice in your head.

Mr. Davis’s perverted gaze remained fixed on you, clearly tempted as he battled with the demons in his head. And at your boss’s signal, you were ordered to walk towards Mr. Davis apprehensively, sitting on his lap while keeping the disgust you were feeling from showing. His hand soon grazed your thigh, the other squeezing your breast. “That’s a tempting offer,” commented the old man, a triumphant grin on display, “But I’d be a fool to refuse a bad bitch like her.”

“Good,” Sylus said, his tone suddenly serious as he slid a sleek, black gun from the table. He idly toyed with the handgun, clearly unfazed. “Let’s finalize our deal then. I’ll just take this gun you’ve provided. Don’t mind if I do a little ‘quality testing’,” he added with a chilling smile, loading the magazine with .45 ACP bullets.

The business partner’s eyes widened in realization as Sylus’s hand tightened around the weapon. Panic soon flashed across Mr. Davis’s face before he desperately pushed you off his lap and scrambled to his feet, hoping to de-escalate the rift he had caused with the Onychinus leader. “Wait, Mr. Sylus! I-I didn’t mean to offend. I’m not going to steal your lady, I swear! Don’t—”

But just as you expected, Sylus’s expression remained cold and unyielding. With a swift, practiced motion, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was sharp and final, cutting through the pulsating music and leaving a deadly silence in its wake. Mr. Davis quickly dropped to the floor, his eyes wide open and the hole on the side of his head leaking with dark, red blood.

Your eyes remained cool and detached as you watched the scene unfold, your expression too unreadable for the killer next to you. You’ve seen worse things while living in the N109 Zone, right? was Sylus’s inner thoughts as he placed the gun back on the table, his gaze steady while regarding the now lifeless body of his former business partner. The carpet was now drenched with an unsightly amount of blood.

Just then, the twins, Luke and Kieran immediately swung the door open with a guarded stance, worried that something had happened to the Onychinus leader whom you all served under. But upon looking at Mr. Davis’s fresh corpse sprawled out on the floor, both twins merely shrugged it off, praising their boss for dealing with the old man in a brutal fashion.

“Leave us for a while,” Sylus instructed the twins, pulling you closer by gripping your waist, “If any of Davis’s men try to come in, kill them with no mercy.”

“Roger that, boss.”

As soon as the door was closed, Sylus turned to you, you recognized a demonic glow in his eyes as he tugged at the neckline of your dress. “You,” he spoke under his breath, “are testing my patience.”

You weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Heck, you couldn’t tell if you were even turned on by it, but Sylus fucking you in front of a dead man did bring in a rush of adrenaline in you. This was the fourth time he had killed a man for desiring you, and while he would usually play it off and say he was just feeling bloodthirsty at the time those incidents happened, this was the first time he was compelled to actually touch you next to a man he had just mercilessly shot. It was as though he was trying to prove a point, that dead or alive, no other man would have the pleasure of having you.

“S-Sylus,” you let out a whimper, knees beginning to feel sore as your boss continued to hit you from behind, hips snapping against your bum in a rough, merciless manner. A stinging sensation was soon felt on your butt cheek as Sylus sent a hard, crisp slap on your ass. “Mmh—!”

His nails dug into your hips, jostling you forwards and backwards so your ass could meet the base of his cock with how deep he was plowing himself into you. You had already creamed around his member multiple times that night, too satiated by the possessiveness Sylus was showing towards you, and yet, the signs of him stopping seemed to be a far end of the line.

“Did you enjoy my show, kitten?” he asked, a question borne from feelings of spite, “Did you like how he was gawking at your tits? Look at his pathetic face now. You see that?”

Sylus grabbed you by the face and forced you to look at Mr. Davis’s lifeless body for a good minute. A minute to remember such a ghastly image for the rest of your life. And only after he was satisfied at the fright in your eyes did he start pulling you by the hair, only to then wrap a tight hand around your neck. You couldn’t breathe. You were choking from his hand, restrained to receive any bit of air down your throat. The strong smell of iron, gun powder, and leather was also beginning to intoxicate you, and you knew you were a minute away from passing out. But Sylus was too enraged to stop, his mind was a toxic fire you couldn’t easily extinguish and the only thing you could do was allow him to take his anger out on you.

“Hnngh! Sy… Sylus…” you cried, moaning as his hard thrust almost sent you forward to his business partner’s corpse. The pressure on your windpipe was too strong that barely any sound came out of your mouth. “Sylus, I’m all y-yours, my love. Ah—aah! All… yours.”

He did loosen his grip on your neck, because he had pulled you by the chin to spit into your mouth. A string of saliva connected your tongue to his, your chest undulating in heavy breaths as he began to grope your tits from behind. “Dress like a whore again,” he whispered a warning into your ear, “and I wouldn’t hesitate to treat you like one.”

Your mind, too numbed by the overstimulation all over your body, couldn’t fully grasp the words he had just spoken. All you knew was that he pressed you further down the carpeted floor, with your ass high up and your body down low. The next thing he did was to spread your butt cheeks apart to gape at the exact hole he was destroying.

Sore. Too sore. Too numb. Too… Too… “Sylus, I’m g-gonna…”

“Fuck,” he cussed, accelerating his thrusts at an animalistic speed, his deep breaths turning into a guttural groan as he chased his high. His cum was thick when they landed on your face, and the taste was sweet and salty when he forced the rest of his cum onto the back of your throat. You gagged as he hit your uvula, drool oozing at the corner of your mouth as you choked and yet managed to swallow every drop of his semen.

Like a good girl, for him. Always.

You didn’t exactly black out afterward. You were caught in a liminal state, not fully awake but not unconscious either, as you collapsed onto the floor. Sylus discarded you like a toy he’d grown tired of. If you had been more aware, you would have immediately noticed the abrupt shift in his behavior. The sound of his fading footsteps made you realize that the man you loved so obsessively had just left you in that booth, right next to a dead man.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N. Hey, you okay?”

The coat soon enveloping your body wasn’t Sylus’s; it belonged to one of the twins, and you could feel yourself being carried in his arms.

“Luke…?” you murmured weakly.

“No, it’s Kieran,” he clarified, since his older brother was occupied with disposing of Mr. Davis’s body. “I’m taking you home.”

You clung to his shoulder, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for Sylus’s distinctive white hair. “Wha—? Where’s he? Where is Sy—”

“Boss already left.” His words felt like a blow. “You know he’s dangerous when he’s angry, so you should just go home for today.”

You tried to wriggle free from Kieran’s grasp, confused by the sudden turn of events. “But what did I do? Why is he angry with me?”

“It’s not you, just… complicated,” were the last words you heard before exhaustion overtook you, unaware that you were now outside the nightclub.

Continuing to squirm from Kieran’s hold, you cried, “What do you mean complicated!”

“Luke and I tried to warn you, Y/N,” he said, grimly, as if he felt bad for you. “You’re not supposed to mess with his emotions. Those feelings are reserved for another.”

The night air in the N109 Zone felt heavy and suffocating. It had been a month since Sylus had abruptly cut off contact with you, leaving you in a state of uncertainty, overthinking, and anger. When he had asked you to take a break from work, you already found his command suspicious, and then the silence that followed was a deafening confirmation of your suspicion. No texts, no calls, and every attempt to visit Onychinus’s base was continuously met with cold dismissal.

With this, you found yourself at your makeshift gun range, the repetitive bang of the shots echoing in the dimly lit space. The targets were riddled with holes, each bullet a release of your pent-up frustration. Your thoughts were a tempest of spiteful musings: how you should have maxed out his credit card for everything it was worth if you had known he was going to just dump you. The thought of doing so now felt petty, but it also served as a bitter reminder of how easily he had discarded you that night.

But amid your rage, a more serious thought began to surface. Sylus’s avoidance wasn’t merely a cruel game or a sudden whim; it seemed to hint at something deeper, something more troubling. Was there something he wasn’t telling you? Had something happened that he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain?

You should probably confront him, but you needed a sign. Barging into Onychinus’s base without prior notice would be a suicide wish, so you had to have a reason on showing up unannounced. A sign. You desperately needed one, and perhaps the universe was toying with you, but the very sign you were looking for came in the form of a mechanical crow that landed on the lightpost. Its red eyes glowed like lasers through the night, tilting its head as it looked at your way.

“Caw! Caw!”

“Mephisto,” you breathed a sigh of relief. Did Sylus send him to watch over you?

With your confidence growing back, you decided to finally confront the situation head-on. This cold war would bring you nothing but a painful whirl of overthinking. And so, you returned to Onychinus’s base that night, your anger tempered by a new, steely resolve. As usual, the base was as imposing and foreboding as ever, its corridors silent except for the occasional echo of footsteps.

Where is everyone?

As you neared Sylus’s quarters, your heart pounded with a mix of dread and anticipation. You approached his door, and through the thin walls, you could hear soft, unfamiliar voices. Your breath was caught in your throat as you recognized a woman’s voice, distinct and unfamiliar, but laced with a strange resonance that made your skin crawl.

“From the beginning, you trapped me here, forced me to resonate with you, and even said we’re ‘the same’... One wouldn’t treat a stranger like that, so… don’t tell me you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?”

…

“You’re so gullible, kitten.”

The twins, who were lounging nearby and keeping an eye on things as usual, saw you by their boss’s door and exchanged knowing glances. Luke, with his usual smirk, leaned in. “Oh, look who decided to show up. You’re just in time.”

Kieran, with a more serious tone, added, “He’s got a guest in there. A hunter from Linkon, with an Aether Core, no less.”

Your heart sank. The mention of an Aether Core was a dagger to your already shattered heart. Sylus’s connection to you had always been complex, but it was a lot different with this other woman he had been keeping an eye on for the longest time. They were marked by their shared Aether Core, which tied them together in ways you could never fully understand. To hear that he had met the girl he had been searching for with the same rare core was like a death knell.

“Since when did Sylus bring her here?” you asked the twins, struggling to keep your emotions in check. This was the real reason Sylus had asked you to take a break—he knew that the presence of this girl would push you to the edge of losing all sense of morality. For the first time in your life, he saw you as a threat. An enemy.

Luke responded with a shrug. “A couple weeks ago after she leaked her information in The Nest. Boss has been trying to resonate with her, you see. So don’t mind their little bonding moments.”

Kieran took the initiative to drag his older brother away. “We gotta get going. Don’t cause a scene, Y/N. You won’t like it when our boss is angry.”

Disregarding the twins’ words, you pressed your hand against the door, the muffled sounds of conversation and the soft rustling of fabric seeping through. The realization of what this meant was crushing. Sylus’s soul was bound to this new woman in ways you could never compete with. And the anguish of this discovery broke you inside.

Why? Why can’t it be me?

With trembling hands, you turned the knob and pushed open the door just a crack to peer inside. The sight that met your eyes was enough to confirm your worst fears. Sylus was there, his attention fully on the woman from Linkon that he had pinned down on his bed, a tenderness in his gaze that had never been directed at you.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, you quietly closed the door and retreated, and Sylus’s head turning in your direction only made you hide even further. You were already taking hurried steps before he could catch up to you. But then again, what kind of idiot would he be to leave that fragile girl alone to run after a woman he didn’t even care about? You were nothing but a placeholder for her, warming her seat temporarily before she finally came into the picture. And now that she was here, you were easily cast aside like worn-out clothing, no longer bearing any purpose for him.

“…I hate you,” you muttered, the words barely a whisper as they escaped from your trembling lips. Running through the hallways had quickly become exhausting, each step felt like a drag with the weight of your emotions. “I hate you, Sylus.”

Your hands, shaking uncontrollably, grasped the Beryl pendant that hung around your neck. The sharp pain from the necklace’s chain digging into your skin only added to your anguish. And with a frustrated cry, you yanked the pendant off and hurled it down the hallway. The pendant skittered across the polished floor, its once-beautiful gleam now discarded like mere rubbish.

“What did we tell you?” The twins’ imaginary voices were mocking you in your head, their taunts reverberating through your thoughts as you headed out of the base with no footsteps following you behind. It became clear to you that Sylus had chosen to stay with the girl instead of chasing after you. “Just because boss gave you a chance, doesn’t mean he’ll actually date you! You poor thing! You’re just a game he likes to play!”

“Stop. Stop!” You had to press your hands into your ear, suppressing the torture that your mind was creating.

You decided to run away. Far, far away from Onychinus’s base. Far away from Sylus’s reach.

Your footsteps echoed through the deserted streets, your mind still reeling in jealousy from the events you saw earlier. The image of the woman pinned under him, her dark hair and fair skin, had your hands shaking from the anger in your heart. She was as beautiful as he described, as radiant as he’d often whisper about in his dreams. And now that she was within his reach, did you really think he would let her go?

The night was cold, the air biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly, lost in a whirlwind of emotions and tortuous thoughts. The betrayal, the hurt, the lingering sense of being used—all of it churned within you, making your steps heavy and your heart even heavier.

“I… hate you,” you murmured under your breath.

As you turned down a dark alley, a sudden prickle of unease crawled up your spine. You quickened your pace, but the sound of a second set of footsteps followed closely behind you. Panic set in as soon as you realized you were being stalked.

Before you could react, however, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, blocking your path. The man’s eyes gleamed with malice, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “You no longer have Sylus to protect you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with menace. It was one of Davis’s men. “You're all alone now, and I'm going to make you pay for the death of our master.”

Fear gripped you like a tightrope, but before the man could take another step, a swirling mist of black-red enveloped him. The pressure of the mist seemed to squeeze his entire body, forcing him to his knees, his screams of terror cut short as if the mist were obeying commands from an unseen master.

You turned around, your heart pounding, to see Sylus standing at the edge of the alley. His domineering eyes bore into yours in a mixture of curiosity and cold calculation. “Should I kill this guy? Yes or no?” His voice was low and raspy. “My decision depends on you, kitten.”

Your gaze hardened after hearing the term of endearment he was now recycling with the hunter girl from Linkon. “I can handle him,” was your cold reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. You drew your gun with a swift motion and fired repeatedly, each shot bouncing in the narrow alley. The man’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Sylus watched you with an appraising look. “Impressive. Still feisty as ever.”

You then pointed your gun towards him, but keeping a safe enough distance. “Why were you following me?” you demanded, your tone cold as ice.

A chilling laugh echoed through the alleyway. “My own assistant wants to kill her boss? Now, isn’t that a spectacle?”

“Shut up!” you yelled, finger tightening on the trigger. “I don’t care if one bullet won’t kill you. I can shoot you enough times to make sure you’d at least feel some pain.”

Sylus sighed before reaching into his pocket and revealed the necklace, the red beryl pendant glinting in the dim light. “You forgot your gift,” he said, his voice softening ever so slightly.

You stared at the necklace, feeling a sting in your heart that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m not worthy of such a gift,” you replied monotonously, “Give it to her if you want. And also, take this night as my formal resignation as your assistant."

Sylus’s eyes widened, a rare look of surprise crossing his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. It seemed as if he was truly, genuinely stunned, caught off guard by your decision.

I can’t back out now. You repeated it like a desperate mantra in your mind as you turned and walked away, leaving Sylus standing alone in the dark alley, the necklace still clutched in his hand. You were done with his games, done with being played. You were determined to leave him behind, until suddenly, he vanished into a puff of black smoke. Dark feathers floated in the spot where he had stood moments ago. To your shock, he reappeared behind you, his hand forcefully grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

You struggled, trying to wrench his hand away. “Let go—”

But he silenced you with a bruising kiss, locking his lips around yours despite your desperate punches to his chest. He only pulled away when he felt your warm tears streaming down your face, looking at you with a gaze full of unwanted sympathy. Sympathy that cut deeper than any blade.

“Are you happy she’s back in your life?” you choked out, your voice trembling as you stared at him with tear-filled eyes.

Sylus responded with a hesitant hum. “I am.”

You inhaled shakily, his answer shattering your heart. “Then, why are you here?”

“...I don’t know.” His crimson eyes reflected the sorrowful glow of the moon peeking from behind his head.

“Do you intend to keep me as your lover?” you asked, forcing him to confront his true intentions.

Sylus took a long, agonizing moment to respond, as if wrestling with a tumultuous storm of emotions—the pros and cons, the rights and wrongs. Finally, he spoke, and his words were a dagger to your soul.

“No,” he said at last, his hand retreating from your face. He stepped back and turned the distance between you into a chasm of heartbreak. “It’s been nice working with you, Y/N. I’ll send you a year’s worth of salary for your dedication to me. This should be the last time we meet.”

The weight of his words crashed down on you like an earthquake, and the full reality of your situation made it hard for you to breathe. Yes, it was a gut-punch. You were breaking in half, your heart shattering beyond repair because the pain was too much. It was all too much for a person to take, and it twisted something dark inside you.

“If I can’t have you,” you began, your voice shaking with an amalgam of rage and despair, “then no one can.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed. “Y/N, you won’t dare—”

“I’ll kill her,” you spat, your tone dripping with venom. Your vow was laced with a genuine resolve, as if it were a promise you had embedded in stone. “The next time I see her, I’ll end her in the most brutal way I can. I swear it.”

His eyes flashed with a sinister light, one eye emitting a faint glow like a candlelight in a dark room. “If you try to go near her,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “I’ll kill you first.”

A twisted smile spread across your face, and madness began to gleam in your eyes. Driven to the brink of insanity, you laughed—a wild, almost feral sound that scared even the rats hiding in the darkest places.

“Then, do it,” you challenged, the final thread of your sanity snapping as he raised a finger, and the tendrils of his black-red mist soon swirling around you and crushing your bones with its pressure. “You’ve already taken everything from me, Sylus. Finish what you started.”

SECOND PART

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus angst #sylus smut #sylus fic #lads smut #lads angst #lads sylus

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rainrot4me · 7 months ago

Text

Three’s A Crowd

Summary: Video games can be emotionally intense, especially when you’re butting heads with the two idiots yelling at each other. So when Jeff and Ben decide to break their tie in another way, you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time: right in the middle.

Characters: Ben Drowned x Female Reader x Jeff the Killer

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Using a controller as a vibrator, threesome, fingering, toxic, Ben pressures you lowkey, embarrassment, power struggle, vaginal, creampie, cum mixing, competition, cunnilingus, Jeff and Ben flirt, dub-con, pining, suppressed emotions, jealousy, jealousy sex, angry sex, insults, overstimulation

Words: 5.3k

In your opinion, video games sucked.

Correction: The games themselves didn’t suck. The way they made the residents of the mansion act, sucked.

It was so unruly. Screaming, throwing the controllers, weapons being whipped out at a poorly timed insult, they had no restraint. Everyone was pretty bad, yourself included, but Jeff and Ben were worst of all. The two idiots didn’t have respect for a single thing in their lives, and that principle carried over now as you were hunched between them on the shabby couch in the living room.

It was well into the night, and most of the creeps were either asleep or out on a mission for Slender, so the boys ruled they could be as reckless as they wanted without consequence. Jeff had hauled you along too, ripping you from your comfortable bed to act as a witness to whoever won the match of Mario Kart. However, six rounds later, the two of them were leaning forward heavily and cursing at every bad move. Elbows perched on knees as the bright glow from the TV cast a haze over the room, your phone distracting you as they shoved and bumped into your curled-up body. “One more shell and I’m punching you.” Ben grit, Jeff laughed.

Ben was playing as Link, obviously, but Jeff was heavily set on playing as Rosalina because she’s “emo and fuckin’ hot”. You thought it was crude, but as the little princess chucked another blue turtle shell as Link, Jeff secured his win, tying the boys up. Three each, no clear winner and the exhaustion was starting to set in as you gazed at the bright TV. “Aw, sucks. Guess we’ll never know.” You chime, tugging yourself off of the couch and beginning to make your way up to your room and away from the already obnoxious arguing that followed. A calloused hand was quick to drag you back, hauling your ass back into the cushion you had been in for hours.

“Nope. All or nothin’.” Jeff smiled, settling back into the armrest of the couch as Ben loaded another round, the loud whistles and bells chiming obnoxiously as they gripped their controllers. You groaned, shrugging back into the crook of the cushions as the boys pressed close to you, occasionally slapping at each other’s thighs and elbowing you a little too hard as they sped through obstacles. It was irritating, you becoming agitated every time one of their curses rang a little too loud in your ear. Ben was winning, sending Jeff into an utter panic and standing up, knocking you on the side of the head as he threw his elbows out in an attempt to steer clear of the giant tar pit in front of him. That did it for you.

“Okay. Fuck this.” You stood up, shoving Jeff to the side as you grabbed the remote to the TV and powered it off, their yells following as the bright light faded. “What the fuck?!” Ben snapped, throwing his hands in the air and standing next to Jeff now, who looked equally as shocked.

“You’ve done nothing but yell in my ear all night! Either find some other way to settle your score, or just get over yourselves!” You grit, slamming the remote back down and aiming to walk towards the stairs, shoving your phone into your pocket as you stomp off. Ben laughed, your phone becoming suddenly very hot in your pocket and making you hiss, grabbing it and throwing it down onto the floor. Jeff was cackling, Ben smiling as you scowled at him, his dark eyes bright against the re-appearing glow of the TV as it suddenly switched back on. “Fucker.” You growled. They both just chuckled, grabbing their controllers again and restarting the game where it left off. “Now, either come sit down, or your phone explodes next.” The elf chitted, patting the spot on the sofa next to him teasingly.

Swearing, you sat back down, shoving your phone onto the coffee table in front of you and begrudgingly refocusing on the bright game, Jeff now taking the lead. The race was quick, Ben coming out on top in the end and sending the pale killer to call for another round, to which you responded with a groan. “Sit tight, gonna grab a drink.” The dark-headed man huffed, tossing the controller onto your lap and heading off into the kitchen, the little device buzzing and lighting up every time Ben clicked on his own. It was a weird sensation, the vibrations tickling your skin as you watched the screen, Ben focused on readying a match again. “This thing vibrates?” You laughed, pushing around the joysticks and smiling when the device buzzed deep as the car engines on the screen revved. Ben smiled, teasingly nudging your arm as he sat back into the cushion, resting his on controller on his leg. “Yeah, not as good as yours though.” He teasingly glared.

You cringed, Ben’s perverted little mouth taking over as he snickered, your face growing hot. “Not funny.” You hissed, shoving the controller off of your lap and onto Jeff’s empty seat, the little buzzing seeming a lot less cute now. The room was awkward now, at least on your end, but Ben just kept laughing, even as Jeff reemerged from the kitchen and plopped back down onto the sofa, giving you both a questioning look before readjusting as you shook your head.

The boys started up again, you now keenly aware of just how much they were touching you. Thighs pressed side by side, shoulders nudging, Ben’s hands moving the controller down just a little too close to your scrunched-up legs as he raced; his comment had made you very agitated, your mind swirling the comment every time you heard the deep vibration of the little devices. Ben noticed, or at least, pretended like he wasn’t planning it all along. The elf had used his comment wisely, pushing you just the right amount into uncomfortable just to get your blood flowing, but not pushing you away. Truth was, he knew it was personal, knew all too well from the small hum of your vibrator through his walls, your little huffs and whines pushing through the wood and right into his pointed ears. He liked those nights, the nights where he could secretly send his influence and make the vibrator speed up suddenly, the hum becoming louder as your little voice followed, forcing you into an orgasm that he secretly caused. It was his favorite thing, pushing you, unknowingly under his whim. But now, he had the chance to actually pursue it, pursue you.

Jeff was your friend, he was the whole reason you were down here. He had nonchalantly pleaded with you to be their little witness and sit in on the game, and Ben knew if he wanted to get to you, you’d need Jeff there to accompany the ride. You two weren’t lovers, but Ben accepted the fact that if he wanted to make his fantasies a reality, he was going to have to share. If only for tonight. This rang true even as he subtly pressed his thigh closer against yours, but you instinctually slid your legs closer to Jeff, your weight slowly shifting onto his shoulder as he shifted with you. Ben side-eyed hard, quietly nagging himself as he lost track of what he was doing and slipped off the map. Jeff howled, playfully slapping your leg and teasing the elf about paying attention. But he was done with this game, his focus had left that screen and was now locked onto you, along with his subtle jealousy that struck as you nestled against Jeff even further.

“You get any closer to him you’ll be sitting on his dick.” Ben mocked, flicking the game off with a little twitch of his finger and letting the bright TV glow illuminate your already flushed face. You gawked at him, brows furrowed as your face grew hot, looking at Jeff as he just laughed. “What the fuck, man?” The killer half laughed half cringed, glancing at you but tossing the controller onto the coffee table to avoid the awkwardness of being pressed against you now. You read it, shifting off of him as Ben moved to face you, crossing his arms with a sour look. “No, go ahead [Y/N], show Jeff how bad you want it. Y’know, since apparently I’m not funny anymore.” He grilled, nudging you closer to Jeff until you literally had to push your hands against his chest to stop the elf from climbing on top of you. Jeff didn’t think it was funny anymore either, shoving Ben’s shoulder and telling him to chill out as he pressed further, grabbing the controller off of the couch and shoving your back down against the killer’s legs awkwardly. “I’ll just do it myself then.”

Ben was shoving himself between your legs now, pressing your thighs open and forcing his hands between as Jeff tried to adjust, trying to pull you up but being forced behind you as the elf pushed down. “Ben. What the hell are you doing?” He was blushing, despite his aggressive gaze now the killer was stunned, and Ben could see it. His hands pushed deeper, a twitch of his eyebrow all it took to send the little device in his hand roaring, a deep rumbling sounding as he pushed it closer to your clothed cunt. You panicked, reaching down to stop Ben but the controller was already whirring against your shorts, sending your back arching off of Jeff’s legs and the blonde smiling wickedly. “May not be fun, but you sure do seem to enjoy yourself a lot because of me.”

“Wha-“ You gasped, clawing back into Jeff’s jeans as he watched, unable to help as his face grew hot, eyes flickering across the scene. You tried to sit up, but Jeff’s hands were on you now, wrapping under your arms and hauling you between his legs, letting Ben work the controller’s handle against your clothed clit as his hands rubbed your body. This was embarrassing, you squirming and writhing against the feeling of the device harshly vibrating against you, the power a direct reflection of Ben’s emotions. It was hard and rough, your gasps and writhing groans making Ben all the more excited as he looked up at Jeff, his expression conflicted between discomforted and getting terribly turned on. “Go on, Jeffrey. Get on with it or leave, either way, I’m making her cum.” You hissed, jerking as the controller handle nudged hard onto your clit, reaching to grab Jeff’s arms that were wrapped around you, clawing into them for some relief.

The killer was conflicted, breathing heavily above you as he watched you come apart, hips jerking with every shove Ben gave of the device. “She said we should break our tie some other way. I say we just found the perfect solution.” The elf smirked. Jeff didn’t particularly know what he was doing, but Ben’s glare and your desperate eyes burning into the killer clicked something, all of his embarrassment washing out as he slid his hands up your shirt, a satisfied chuckle ringing from the blond. “Atta boy.” You were shifting, trying to pry Jeff's hands off as he tugged up your shirt over your bra, body tense as you felt Ben’s fingers slip under your shorts, too. “Guys- Wait-” But they weren't listening, didn’t care to anyway as they hauled your clothes off of your body, sharing hungry looks between the other as your bare skin felt hot and sticky against their rough hands. It was addicting.

Jeff had never particularly thought of you in that way, always seeing you as some stability that he could rely on, but never something he found he desired. You were pretty, beautiful even, but there was always this tension he couldn’t get past. He realized it now though, as he tugged your bra off of your tits and slid the fabric over your head, he knew that tension was just his buried frustration about you. He was never good with emotions anyway, especially his own. “Fuck…” He groaned as he palmed your flesh, your hard nipples satisfying to roll between the pads of his fingers. Goosebumps rose against your skin as your panties were pulled off of your ankles, and tossed aside as Ben reached for the controller again, the familiar buzzing desperately guiding you to shut your legs, but the elf’s hands were already prying them open. They were both chuckling, their hands palmed down hard all over your skin as Ben pressed the handle back to your clit, the bare contact sending your back shooting off of Jeff’s lap with a groan. The vibration was horrible now, squelching and rubbing shakily as your cunt ached, arousal building and clawing its way through. Ben’s eyes were locked on you, gauging your every reaction and slightly contorting the intensity of the device to tug cute little whines from your lips, his bulge growing annoying fast against you.

Jeff was too, his jeans becoming tight against your back as he pulled your nipples up, massaging your tits until you were clawing at his arms, whining for him to be easier. He wouldn’t, it just wasn’t his style, wasn’t what he craved. “Feel good, princess?” Ben hissed, nudging his hips under your thighs and letting his bulge rut against your bare ass, his sweatpants rough against your bare skin. Jeff groaned, rolling his eyes and he pulled you up, positioning under you and letting your back rest against his chest, his hips jerking his bulge against the small of your back. “Princess? Really?” He scoffed, reaching his hand to tug your chin to the side, giving him access to your neck and pecking at the hot skin. Ben glared, the aggression between the two shows in their actions as the controller upped its intensity, handle buzzing hard against your swollen clit, sending you sobbing. Jeff answered with a tight tug of your jaw, biting into the side of your neck just enough to make you panic. They were competing, trying to see who could better stake their claim. You cursed yourself mentally for letting yourself be their solution.

“Well, princess? Answer me, c’mon.” Ben smiled, ignoring the pale killer and letting his hands splay on your waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he worked the controller in small motions, contorting your clit desperately. You felt like you couldn’t get a stable breath, let alone speak, but the boys listened expectantly, Jeff’s breathing hot against the crook of your neck as he licked against the welts he had created. “I think- Ah- I think I’m close-” You craned, moaning as Ben slid his opposite hand down, running his fingers through the slick between your folds, spreading your arousal against your inner thighs. You groaned as he nudged his fingers into your cunt, spreading the digits against your clenching entrance and pushing his knuckles deeper. You craned, spreading your thighs at the relief of his fingers pushing against your walls, giving good relief to the vibration of the controller still heavy on your throbbing clit. You moaned heartily, jaw hanging open as you threw your head back against Jeff’s shoulder, his fingers quick to press from your jaw and find their way into your lips, pinching at your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you sucked on the digits, letting Ben work his fingers deep into your cunt and tug your arousal further, Jeff gasping as you slid your tongue desperately. They were both watching, lost in the way your face looked flushed and sweaty, your hair clinging to your face and tears pricking against your eyelids. They were groaning, rutting their clothed cocks against your body until your skin felt raw, arching into the way the controller pulsed against you now, jutting your hips. Popping Jeff’s fingers out of your mouth, you cried out, cunt clenching and throbbing as Ben twisted his knuckles up into the gumminess of your walls. “Oh God- ‘Mm cummin- Ben-” You babbled, the boys adjusting quickly under you and prodding and pulling however they could, aiming to see who could nudge you over that last edge. Jeff’s teeth locked against the side of your jaw, his grunts loud in your ear as he twisted your nipples, hauling your orgasm to come crashing into you. “There you go babygirl, cum on his fingers,” Jeff grunted, licking your cheek as the deep red spot grew against your skin, your hands clasping against his arms as he hugged them around you. You were rolling your hips, chasing Ben’s fingers as he slowly pumped them out of you, gathering your slick and spreading it across your sensitive folds, eyes heavy on you. The controller’s rumbling died out, the handle glistening with your arousal and tossed to the side, the elf’s hands hooking around your waist and hauling you closer on his hips. “Good job, princess…”

Ben leaned forward, steadying his weight on top of you as he pressed a kiss against your swollen lips, his tongue pushing itself into your mouth. You whined, sucking on his tongue and panting against his skin as you kissed him sloppily, slobber spreading across your skin. Jeff grumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around your chest and nudging his head into the crook of your neck, kissing against your ear and licking stripes against your shoulder. Even as they were pleasing you, their focus was on each other, their hands pushing against the other’s shoulder or nudging their knees out of the way; it was possessive and mean, you trapped right in the middle. Jeff popped off your neck, shoving Ben’s face off of yours as the blond’s hand wrapped in the killer’s messy hair and tugged him away from you, their growls echoing above you as they glared. You were still dazed, cunt still throbbing from your orgasm as Jeff hauled you up, pushing his back against the couch and setting you onto his lap, right on top of his bulge. “My turn.” He grit, a low rumble in his chest as he forcefully knots your hips down onto the swell in his jeans, Ben fussing in his ear but moving in front of you all the same.

Even through their arguing they worked together, Ben helping to tug your hips up as Jeff reached around to unclasp his belt, letting his cock fling out of his jeans and rest against your soppy cunt. You hissed, the pale killer shifting his hips to let his length spread between your folds, your previous orgasm spreading across his cock. “I’ll fuck ya like you deserve, babygirl. Not with some fuckin’ Nintendo controller.” Ben glared, kneeling between Jeff's legs and pressing close to your cunt, fingers nudging against your tired clit, hauling your body back to life. Jeff positioned, nudging his cock head against your entrance, but your hands flung down, pushing both of them away. “If you two can’t act right, you’re not gonna be doing anything. Jesus, you can’t even fuck without arguing.” You spoke between pants, glaring at the two of them as they sat stunned, looking at the other. “Fine.” Jeff grit, rolling his eyes as he hooked his hands under your knees again, hauling them back and up to spread your cunt wide. You hissed, leaning back against him as Ben repositioned, swiping your hands away and nudging his thumb back onto your clit.

Jeff rested his chin on your shoulder, breathing in your scent as he gripped his cock, nudging the head back against your entrance, flicking against your wetness. You rolled your hips, trying to get him to press in but Ben’s fingers tugged your clit up, making your hips follow with a whine. Jeff grumbled, tugging your legs back further and eventually nudging his hips up to connect with your entrance, slowly pushing in as you stretched around him. “Oh- Oh, my-” You mewled, throwing your head back to rest against the killer’s shoulder, reaching forward to grip Ben’s shoulders for stability as he pressed in. The elf gleamed, letting his hands wrap around your thighs as he pressed forward, pressing his tongue against your clit. You whined, shock writhing as Jeff shifted his hips up, letting the head of his cock nudge deep inside of you and stretch your walls thin, his grunts strained against your shoulder. Ben lapped at your folds, sucking your clit generously as Jeff bottomed out, letting your cunt rest on his balls as he pulsed inside of you, your eyes fluttering shut at the fullness. “Get your fuckin’ tongue off my dick, elf.” The killer grit, cringing at the feeling of Ben’s warm tongue lapping at the base of his dick as he focused on soaking in the taste of your swollen clit. He chuckled, popping off of the swollen nub and replacing it with his thumb, rubbing small circles and looking into the other’s wide eyes. “Be nice, remember?” He teased, pressing his face back in and sucking on your clit, careless to Jeff’s curses every time his tongue passed over the salty taste of the killer’s cock nestled inside of you.

Grunting, Jeff got over it, hauling your legs higher and pulling them further apart, sighing at the stretch of your walls around him as you throbbed. He twisted his hips up, pressing his feet into the hardwood floor and pushing his cock up into your cunt, thrusting slowly as Ben worked your clit. “Shit…” He sighed, rolling his hips back down before pulsing back up. You moaned deep, hands messing up into Ben’s hair and tugging him closer as he swiped his tongue through your folds, practically trying to push the muscle into your entrance as well. Jeff kissed your shoulder, whispering unheard words as the sound of squelching and slapping filled the room, your cunt soaked and crying with pleasure every time the cock inside you pushed against your walls. “Tastes so good, ohmygods-” Ben clenched, grunting as you tugged his face back against your cunt the moment he let off, pushing his tongue back against your folds. He smiled against you, pushing his tongue up into the leftover space of your soaked cunt along with Jeff’s cock, lapping up every ounce of arousal that spilt onto his chin, fingers pulling your wet lips apart. The killer whined a ragged noise as the pressure of your cunt grew, strangling his length as the tongue felt so nice against the underside of his cock. He dug his nails into the underside of your knees, turning his face to catch your lips with his own as you moaned, gasping into his mouth. The noises you made were so pretty, muffled so nicely against his tongue as he wrapped it with yours.

It was all so messy. Spit running down Ben’s chin, Jeff panting and moaning into your mouth the harder he thrust, your whines sobbed between kisses. Everything was so overwhelming, your cunt being pushed and stretched further than you could really handle. “So tight, baby. Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me awful.” Jeff growled against your swollen lips, biting the plump flesh and tugging his cock out all the way to the head just to thrust right back up again. Ben hummed again your cunt, swallowing you and relishing in the taste, begging for more as Jeff’s cock pushed more out, soaking his tongue. “Hurry up and cum, Jeffrey… My turn…” He mumbled against your puffy lips clenching around his lips so nicely, flicking his tongue against your clit again to force you into an orgasm. His cock hurt against his boxers, pushing desperately to get inside of you as he watched Jeff’s schlick in and out raggedly, glossy with your wetness. He reached down, undoing his sweatpant strings and pushing the waistband below his balls, quickly fisting his cock and jerking, precum dribbling down the length. “Fuck off…” Jeff grit, groaning as your entrance pulsed around him when he angled his hips forward. Ben rolled his eyes, standing up and pushing between your legs, cock in hand as he nudges himself down. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pressing a knee into the space between Jeff’s spread legs, Ben pushes the head of his cock between your spread folds, every bounce of your hips down onto Jeff’s cock forcing the blond’s cockhead to nudge against your clit, making you whine. Ben cursed, your slick gliding across the underside of his length and rubbing him as he reached to grip your tits, massaging the mounds as Jeff glared.

The stimulation was too much, cunt overwhelmed as Jeff thrust harder, trying desperately to prove you could cum without the elf’s help. He let go of your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist and digging his face into your neck, biting down. You cried, hands pressed against his arms and clawing at his skin, legs curling around Ben’s waist as you sobbed, cunt aching and all too sensitive. Skin slapped loudly, juices squelching, and messy slobber hanging on your lips, babbling. You swelled, cockhead still against your clit and nudging you to an orgasm, rolling your eyes back as Jeff clenched his teeth into your skin, groaning his own. He didn’t slow down though, hips pulsing just as fast as he spilt into you, syrupy walls clenching tightly around the girth and milking him, pulsing with every twitch inside. “Jesus…” Ben gasped, fisting his cock as he watched your face flush, heavy eyes zoning out as you felt light, rolling your hips lazily to ride out your orgasm. “Fuck babygirl… What the fuck…” He groaned, lapping at the swollen skin that was forming from his bite, kissing your shoulder until he was focused enough to slip his soaked cock out of your cunt.

Ben was quick to move, desperately tugging you up and twisting you around, knowing you didn’t have good enough strength to sit up anymore. Panting and still hazed, you dug your knees into the couch, straddling Jeff as you pressed your chest against his, hiding your face into his shoulder. Ben nudged behind you, tugging your hips back to meet his and groping at your ass, pulling the skin apart to see your soaked cunt. “Just one more, yeah princess?” Ben huffed, fisting his cock lazily as he pressed the tip between your folds, the warmth already tugging him closer. You sobbed, gripping Jeff’s shoulders and tugging at his hoodie as you nodded, arching gently as Ben slipped his head in.

Your cunt was so warm, so goopy and swollen from your orgasm, but constricting around Ben’s cock just right. Jeff’s cum threatened to leak out, dropping down but Ben caught it with his head, pushing it back into your entrance with a smile. He growled, his left hand holding his hoodie up to his chest while his right gripped onto your hip, nails digging in. Jeff reached around, wrapping his around your back as he kissed your cheek, watching closely as Ben sunk in. “Easy, you fuckin’ pixel bitch,” Jeff warned, reaching down to grip your ass, tugging the mounds in his rough hands as the blond scoffed. “She can take it.” He snapped his hips.

Now, Ben wasn’t as large as Jeff, but he knew how to sway his thrusts just right to make you fall apart. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he pushed down, forcing you to arch as he thrust up into your soppy walls, your cries loud and ragged against Jeff’s shoulder. “Plea- Please- Jesus-” You cried, reaching your hands to grip into Jeff’s messy hair, each snap of Ben’s hips jolting you forward with a slap. Jeff’s arms tensed around you, groaning as he soaked up your cries, cock fluttering to life again underneath. You leaned back, babbling something unheard as you connected your lips with Jeff’s moaning desperately into his mouth, Ben gritting as he snapped upwards into your walls. Reaching forward, the blond tangled his fist into the back of your hair, gripping tight and tugging a chunk back, snapping your head back as you cried.

The elf was overwhelmed, a whining and grunting mess as his hips jolted, slapping loudly into yours as he tugged your hair. He leaned forward, forcing your face to turn as he pecked at your wet lips, brows knit as he continued his pace. Ben was shaking, lost in the warmth and wetness as he slammed in without any sense of coordination, you whimpering against his lips. Jeff growled, gripping your jaw and forcing you back to his lips, a little desperate game of possession starting up. Every few thrusts, the lips you were on would change, the two passing you between them as Jeff snaked a hand along your stomach, reaching to rub at your clit as he licked at your lips. You whined, hips jerking to meet the sensation as Ben tugged your head back to his, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You felt dizzy, position changing so often that you felt like you were spinning as your jaw was dragged back to another pair of lips.

Fed up, you reached behind you, dragging Ben’s head closer as Jeff invaded your mouth, pressing the blond’s lips against yours as well. They both grunted, both tongues slipping into your mouth and fighting for more space, Ben’s thrusts becoming shallow and lazy as he tugged at your swollen lips. Slobber ran and mixed, whines and pants flowing into each other’s mouths as they both shared you, both dragged you onto another orgasm as Jeff’s fingers pinched your clit, Ben’s cock shoving itself deeper when he tugged your hair hard enough to make you cry.

The boys were groaning, moaning against your lips as you came, drinking in your sounds as Ben bottomed out, letting you drag him along as well. Ben let off, his head dropping down against your shoulder as he came deep into your cunt, mixing his cum with Jeff’s, his fists gripping your hips tight and tugging you back further onto him. You pawed at Jeff’s chest, his muscles heaving with every breath as he held you, watching with wide eyes as you gasped through your orgasm, jaw hanging slack and eyes rolling back gently. “So good, babygirl. Look so good like this.” He smiled, gazing at Ben whose face was clenched tight, spilling what was left of his seed and tugging out, watching as your red lips swelled around his head. All of you were sweaty and hot, the TV glow reflecting bright against your red faces and hair clinging to your skin. Pants and grunts followed as you all plopped onto the couch, Jeff holding you as Ben lay on the opposite end, admiring your drenched cunt slowly leaking the mixed cum.

Ben felt so content, so good watching you slowly drift in Jeff’s arms, the killer glancing at him and nodding his head, beckoning for him to come closer. “You look good too. I guess.” Jeff huffed as Ben crawled over, the elf laughing as he awkwardly slid under you, your body crammed between the two as they held you. “So, princess. Who’s the winner?” Ben smiled against your ear, smirking at Jeff as you groaned, glancing through heavy eyes.

“Couldn’t decide. Might need a couple more tries to figure it out.” You mumbled quietly against Jeff’s shoulder, closing your eyes and not thinking anything of the comment as your tired body took over. The boys, however, smiled at each other, rummaging around and positioning you snugly between them. “Good idea.” Jeff smiled, gripping under your knees and pushing them apart, each thigh spread over either boy’s waist. You stirred again, eyes shooting open as Jeff reached around to shove his fingers between your folds, pressing them inside achingly quickly. Ben followed, nudging his face into your neck and kissing the skin as his hands gripped your tits, massaging your arousal back to life. Whining, you gave in, reaching around to grip both of their heads closer to yours as you moaned, their fingers ravaging.

Maybe you could teach them to share, maybe even then you could teach them to be nice…

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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retroaria · 6 months ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 boyfriend nagi.ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹ ࣪ ˖ another set of bf headcanons finally !! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

warnings: this is post Blue Lock, not a high school!au

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🌵 - aria

pre-boyfriend!nagi who spends weeks, months even, questioning what exactly it is he feels for you because he just can’t wrap his head around it. doesn’t know why his heart throbs when you say his name, why his hands get sweaty when you sit close to him, why he feels the need to lie about certain things to make himself look better, why he feels the constant urge to just fall into your arms and lay there forever.

pre-boyfriend!nagi who goes to Reo for advice on the matter only to be called an idiot and have his own feelings explained to him at his big age

pre-boyfriend!nagi who now can associate those feelings with wanting a relationship with you, it’s all he thinks about. he yearns for you so bad. wants to have you in his arms, nap with you, teach you how to play games, let you cook for him (and feed him lol), introduce you to choki, show you all his cool soccer moves. it makes him really sad that he can’t just have you already, and it’s gonna be a hassle to ask you out.

pre-boyfriend!nagi who isn’t ready to ask you out but still wants to share his affections with you. He’s very touchy, always hugging you, leaning on your shoulder, brushing strands of hair out of your face so he can see your eyes. Asks you to hang out with him almost every day, even if he knows you’re gonna be busy, he still has to ask just in case you can.

pre-boyfriend!nagi who realizes that holding his feelings in is way more of a hassle than confessing so he does exactly that. He’s very straightforward about it. “Hey, I’ve liked you for a while now. Wanna go on a date?”. If you say yes he’d probably just kiss you on the spot. He hasn’t even taken you on the first date yet but in his head you guys are already dating.

pre-boyfriend!nagi who takes you to an arcade on the first date, beats you at every game, but then wins you a bunch of claw machine stuffies to make up for it.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

boyfriend!nagi who asks you to come live with him early on the relationship. He has such a straightforward mindset that he can’t wrap his head around how you guys are together but not “together”, as in together all the time (if that makes sense). He has to learn the concept of personal space in a relationship and eventually even after you guys start living together understands why he can’t cling to you every second of every day. He’ll still try sometimes and gets sad when you go off to do your own thing but gets over it once he’s preoccupied watching matches or playing games.

boyfriend!nagi who gets jealous very easily, but not in the stereotypical sense. He doesn’t get mad or aggressive when he’s jealous but he’s totally the type to deadpan you with “do you not love me anymore?” If he sees you giving anyone else more attention than him. This feeling he gets isn’t just towards guys or even people your age, it’s anyone. “Why were you talking to that old woman at the store for so long? I was right there.” “Nagi, she was ringing us up, she’s a cashier, it’s her job.” He actually has very little reaction to other guys flirting with you because he simply thinks that’s a stupid thing for them to do and is confident you’ll reject them.

boyfriend!nagi who lets you dress him up, style his hair, do his makeup for fun, would honestly let you give him a tattoo if you really wanted to. His mind doesn’t have negative preconceived notions about many things, and he thinks it’s adorable watching you have fun with him. Really likes when you do his hair just so he can feel your hands on his scalp. Same with doing his makeup, thinks both activities are relaxing and hassle free bonding moments for you two. All he has to do is sit there and look pretty.

boyfriend!nagi who mentions you unconsciously all the time. Along with football and video games, you’re a focal point of his life and you’ve become integrated in almost everything he does or thinks about. So much so that when responding to questions and such, he’ll say “we” more often than ”I”. “Nagi, did you get a chance to watch that match last week?” / “Yeah we watched it the other night.” / “There’s this new manga that just came out I think you’d be into it Nagi.” / “Oh alright, we’ll definitely check it out.”

boyfriend!nagi who drops the love bomb very early on because if he had feelings for you strong enough to even notice or care about, he’s confident it has to be love. He has different variations of “I love you”, the most commonly used ones are groggy and drawn out, “love youuuu~” or “Mhmm, love.” It’s a pet name and a confession all in one, verbal shortcuts make life easier (nagi logic 101). When he really wants you to hear it, he’ll say “I love you” in full but repeatedly. Either while he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck or following you around the house begging you to forgive him for sleeping all day instead of the chores you asked him to do.

boyfriend!nagi who wants to put more and more effort into himself and his lifestyle now that he has you. He wants to be the best he can be, give you everything you want and need, show his love for you in a million different ways. It’s so bad that he sometimes cries to himself thinking about all the ways he might mess up the relationship, he doesn’t know what he would do if you left him, he’d just feel so empty. :((

boyfriend!nagi who clings to you at every moment that he can, his heart stings at the feeling you leaving his grasp even if it’s just for a moment.

boyfriend!nagi who is absolutely whipped and unafraid to admit it. He’s so open and honest about his feelings with you because it’s a pain to not be able to tell you things. Is constantly reminding you how much he thinks about you and yearns for you. So much love with this boy <3

#blue lock headcanons #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #bllk smut #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro headcanons #nagi headcanons #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk nagi #blue lock nagi

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foreveia · 26 days ago

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take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you.

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no.

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world.

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end.

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head.

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

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ozzgin · 4 months ago

Note

Ahhh!!! I love monster streaming concept so much! If its not a problem for you can u share some hcs about it? Anything is fine to me tbh. Im really curious how their beloved monster watchers would react for y/n trying out different streaming videos (like gameplays etc idkkkk)

LizardKing5 would probably bully you every now and then. "You already died? Noob." He'll frequently suggest horror games, so he can tease you about being scared easily. He'll joke about your choices or gaming style. At the same time, he'll send you guides, buy you in-game items, and bark at anyone else who dares to critique your skills. Only he can do that.

User0385485: man, those are some piss poor skills LizardKing5: Shut your hole before I close it with my own fist, PUNK!!11 LizardKing5: Don't listen to this idiot, just focus on the tips I sent you yesterday.

SharkMan is completely clueless. He's not into gaming, as he considers himself way too old for that, but he supports you nonetheless. He'll watch all of your streams religiously and cheer on you, even when it makes no sense whatsoever. Additionally, he'll gift you ridiculously expensive and unnecessarily advanced computer parts and accessories. He doesn't know what you need, so he just buys whatever has the highest price for good measure.

SharkMan: Fantastic work, (Y/N). LizardKing5: What are you talking about, man? This dumbass scored last place every single round!!!

HornyMantis keeps suggesting adult games, or leaves out of pocket, deranged comments during your gameplays. He couldn't care less about what you're doing, as long as he can see your face (and boobs).

HornyMantis: wow nice shot HornyMantis: u know what would make this match even better HornyMantis: if u were shirtless

DefNotAStalker keeps to himself. He just quietly observes you play and never really comments. When you leave your desk, he sometimes updates the games for you, or changes some settings, or finishes a level you were struggling with. It leaves both you and your followers confused, wondering how you managed to skip over parts or beat a challenge you kept failing a moment ago.

Y/NSimp will support you in anything you want to do. He'll pretend he's knowledgeable about gaming, but in reality he's deplorably bad at it. Secretly jealous of SharkMan and LizardKing5 for hogging all the attention, either with gifts or with useful advice.

Y/NSimp: Heh...I actually beat this level in two minutes. Y/NSimp: I could give you some tips in private if you want, (Y/N). Not to brag, but I'm a bit of a pro haha Y/NSimp: Oh, I see you already ended the stream Y/NSimp: Hello??

[Monster Streaming] | [All Monster Series]

#monster streaming #monster x human #monster x reader #monster fucker #terato

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wileys-russo · 5 months ago

Note

Hi ,

Platonic ingrid / Alexia with mapi and pollito " they are idiots , but they are my idiot , still they are idiots " in park or during matches

Thank you

part of the pollito universe our idiots II a.putellas, m.león, i.engen

"oye nena, you are going to send yourself deaf!" you winced at the pinch to your knee, pulling your headphones down around your neck and sending the older catalan a scowl.

"you told me you did not like my music. this was the solution!" you defended yourself, having been banned from any kind of music control in alexia's car.

personally you felt it was an unfair judgement. it wasn't your fault that the songs you liked to listen to just sounded best at max volume, or that you'd accidentally blown alexia's speaker system trying to prove that point.

"you never listen as it is chica, i need these to work." you whined at the sharp tug on your ear, unclicking your seatbelt and practically diving out of the car away from her, headphones left on your seat.

but of course the moment the door closed and you stood up straight, stretching out with a sigh did someone else grab at you, hands gripping your wrists and forcing your arms to twist behind your head.

"buenas tardes pollito!" the familiar voice cooed in your ear, a wet kiss to your cheek with a loud mwah having you grimacing in disgust and trying to yank your arms free.

"suéltame hijo de puta!" you spat, grunting with the effort of trying to pull away but it was fruitless as she merely laughed at your attempts. "such ugly words." mapi tutted at the language you hauled her way during the struggle, whining as mapi used your hands to make you hit yourself.

"alexia, ayuda!" you called out as the older girl finally emerged from the car, head having been buried in her phone. but as she opened her mouth to no doubt order mapi to let you go, someone else stepped in first.

"maría! let her go, what did i say about picking on her?" you perked up at the norweigans warning, mapi finally letting you go with a huff, hurrying to hide behind the taller girl as you lunged for her.

"well hello." ingrid chuckled as instead you moved to tightly hug her, flipping her girlfriend the finger behind her back and grinning as mapi narrowed her eyes but ultimately couldn't do anything about it with ingrid acting as a barrier between the two of you.

"hermana!" your head whipped around and your eyes lit up as another car door slammed closed, your older sister gabriella opening her arms expectantly as you let go of ingrid and rushed over toward her.

but her face fell and eyes rolled as you dropped to your knees in front and started to coo fondly at the fluffy newfoundland by her side, arms thrown around his neck and kisses pressed against his head as your sister sighed and tapped your shoulder, holding out his leash.

"me alegro de verte imbécil!" the older girl yelled after you as you took your dogs leash and sprinted off toward the park you'd all met up at, alexia chuckling at the sight and greeting your sister with a hug.

"and you are sure you are okay with him for the weekend?" gabriella asked with a frown, alexia nodding but not without a sigh. "she has been begging for weeks for one of them to come and visit, if she had her way all four of them would be here." your captain chuckled, and it was true you'd been pestering her forever to let one of your family dogs come and stay.

you'd been on fire the last few games, scoring five times in three matches and even getting your first start of the season.

then to try and sweeten alexia up more you'd pulled back your usual reckless activities and pranks, your list set aside for the time being as you focused on proving to her that you were responsible.

it was almost scary just how quickly you'd switched up.

you were always as helpful as you could be around the house, forever helping to clean up and even offering to cook (but after last time olga and alexia would politely decline, the bitter memory of your last culinary creation still lingering in their tastebuds and nightmares).

but now even at training you were on your very best behaviour, always offering to help the staff set up and pack down, the first to get boots on the grass and the last to run them off, doing your best not to interrupt anyone or goof off during each session.

plus given that the last time one of your dogs had come for a visit it was you sneaking him in behind alexia's back when she was away for the weekend.

and that resulted in her returning to two missing couch cushions (assumed to be eaten), a suspicious stain on the rug, two smashed vases and a nasty little surprise or three in her bedroom and ensuite that you'd missed and not cleaned up.

so after two weeks of your disturbingly angel like behaviour the midfielder had caved and agreed that one of the dogs could come for a weekend sleepover, but that was all she'd bend to.

of course you'd chosen your favourite, diego. a slobbery newfoundland which when he stood on his two back legs was taller than you were and was deaf in one ear.

but seeing the way your face lit up at the sight of him and hearing your laughter echo across the park as you both raced around it, alexia knew she'd made the right decision.

merely giving your sister a wave goodbye she rolled her eyes again as she bid the others farewell and slipped back into the car, a two and a half drive back to your childhood town ahead of her you made a mental note to call her later to thank her properly.

but for now all you could focus on was diego, ingrid and alexia disappearing to get a coffee as mapi stayed in the park with you, a backpack of diegos things in her hand as you squatted down and began to rifle through it.

"oye nena! what is the command for down?" mapi yelled out, struggling as diego's two front paws sat on her shoulder and she tried not to fall over under his weight, her neck craned away from his tongue which was trying its best to lick at her face.

"diego, bah!" you turned around and yelled, diego immediately dropping into a sitting position as mapi sighed in relief and cooed at him affectionately, scratching behind his ears and grinning at the way his back foot thumped against the ground happily.

"which ear is it?" mapi asked with a frown as you grabbed out his favourite toy, pointing to your right ear and whistling sharply, wiggling the worn leather football at the dog who dropped to his stomach with his tail wagging rapidly.

"go long!" you waved for mapi to back up as she jogged to create some distance between the pair of you. "remember how?" mapi cupped her hands over her mouth as you nodded, adjusting your grip on the NFL ball you'd brought back from your trip to texas in the pre-season.

before the season started properly you'd gone home to see your family for one of your older brothers birthdays, having gotten a cowboys jersey and the ball as him for a present. only the moment you'd stepped past the front door all four dogs had rushed at you, the ball snatched from your hand and rapidly becoming their present now.

"diego. vamos!" you yelled, launching the football toward mapi who side stepped to catch it, diego just arriving in front of her before she'd tossed the ball back to you, diego sprinting between the two of you and barking happily as you threw the ball back and forth.

you were still doing that same thing when ingrid and alexia returned, coffees in hand for all four of you as well as a water bottle for diego who was rapidly running out of steam, merely trotting between the pair of you now.

spotting her girlfriend mapi called it quits, dropping the ball and racing over as you rolled your eyes and went off to retrieve it, diego padding tiredly after you as you clipped his leash back on and tucked the ball under your arm and grabbing his backpack with the other.

grabbing out the portable water bowl you thanked ingrid as she handed you the bottle, pouring some out for diego who collapsed to his stomach, eagerly lapping away as you left him to it beneath the table, well covered with the shade.

"decaf." alexia warned handing you the iced coffee as you rolled your eyes but kept your discontent to yourself.

olga was more than happy to pour you a proper coffee of a morning when alexia wasn't home, but the midfielder herself remained firm in her belief that you had more than enough energy without adding caffeine to it.

"pollito what is this?" mapi pulled a face as she tugged a heavy weighted vest out of the backpack.

"diegos anxiety vest! he gets night terrors and he is scared of thunder, it might storm this weekend." you explained with a shrug as if that was normal, missing the odd look shared between the three older girls at the picnic table.

"ven aquí pequeña, i want to try something." mapi beckoned you over, confusion in your features as she slipped the vest over your head. "amiga what-" alexia started, cut off as there was a loud thud, mapi's fist thumping against the vest and hitting you right in the stomach.

"maría!" ingrid gasped in shock, smacking the back of the defenders neck who choked on a mouthful of coffee and glared at her over her shoulder, coughing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"qué? that did not hurt her! right?" she looked to you as you nodded in surprise, testing it again by punching yourself now and lighting up as you barely felt a thing.

"tonta! take that off, it smells." alexia sniffed the air and pulled a face, trying to pull it off you as you pushed her hands off, catching mapi's eye and suggestive grin, diegos football in her hands as she cocked an eyebrow at you.

it seemed the two of you had a brief and silent conversation across the table, alexia and ingrid clueless to your plans as you suddenly nodded and eagerly raced off after the tattooed zaragozan.

for once diego didn't follow you, just watching on tiredly from his shady recluse under the table as ingrids foot rubbed gently against his hip.

both ingrid and alexia watched on themselves, curious where this was going as you and mapi talked for a second before doing your handshake which had them both rolling their eyes, the two of you having been working on it as a goal celebration for weeks now.

once again mapi backed up to put some distance between the two of you, winding up to throw the ball as you squatted down ready to catch, the vest still sitting across your chest.

"oh no." ingrid realised first where this was going as mapi launched the ball and started to sprint toward you, the ball caught in your hands as you stood up and clearly braced yourself.

"qué son-" alexia didn't even get to finish her question before it was answered for her, mapi's body hurtling into yours and tackling you down to the ground, shoulder slamming into your stomach as there was a thump, your body hitting the grass.

alexia was up on her feet with a face like thunder, ready to march right over and pull the pair of you off one another, a lecture on the tip of her tongue as mapi rolled off of you and collapsed into a fit of laughter which you soon joined in with.

"estoy bien ale!" you yelled out, spotting alexia ready to make her way over and sending her a thumbs up and a wolfish grin, mapi hopping up and holding out a hand to help you do the same.

"they are idiots." alexia grumbled, a hint of a smile on her face but eyebrows furrowed together as she slowly sat back down with a shake of her head.

mapi's laughter again flew through the air as you'd grabbed her hand to be helped up, the older girl pulling you halfway before letting go and sending you thumping back down onto your back.

"but they are our idiots." ingrid added onto alexia's previous statement with a chuckle of her own, the two of them watching on with small smiles at you and mapi.

"puta!" you managed out between your own laughter, foot lashing out at mapi as she dodged it and tossed the football at you, collapsing beside you as it bounced off your head and you whined, launching at her as the two of you rolled around on the grass wrestling.

"sí. but still, they are idiots."

#woso x reader #pollito #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 1 month ago

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My Best Friends Brother (part 2)

Player 001 x Reader [Smut]📖

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

“Okay” you breathe heavily as his big hand wraps around your neck, pulling your head back so he can attach his lips to your neck. “Wait, In Ho”

“What now?” He groans exasperatedly.

“No marks”

“You got burned with the curling iron” he said, continuing to leave a deep hickey on your neck. He pushes you off his lap. Pulling his sweats down a little bit so he could pull his cock out. “Sit down on me” he orders. He pulls your thong to the side so you can slide down on his cock. A low groan left his chest as you sank down. A whimper arising from you. You sat on his cock.

“Fuck” you drawled in a high breathy voice.

“Yeah? Does my cock feel that good?” He teases. “Play.” He tells you as you continued your game as he slowly thrusted into you. You played, trying to keep your composure. He thrusted faster, obviously racing to his own orgasm, yours wasn’t important in that moment. He pressed a hand to your back, making you bend over his desk as he fucked into you. “Such a good fucking girl” he said huskily into your ear.

“Mom, I’m home. Is (y/n) here yet?” You heard Jun-Ho’s voice.

“Yes, she’s in In Ho’s room, can you tell them to come out for dinner?”

In Ho thrusted faster, hoping to reach his orgasm before Jun Ho got there.

“Oh my god”

“Shut the fuck up and play” he said roughly. You continued to play, feeling him release his cum inside you. You sat back normally on his cock just as the door handle turned.

“What’re you doing in here?’ Jun Ho said as his eyes set upon you sitting on In Ho’s lap.

“I’m playing call of Duty” you say.

“Sitting on my brother’s lap?” He asked skeptically. He eyed you with suspicion. “Anyway, Mom said dinner’s ready so finish that match and come out” He said leaving the door open. You stood, feeling In Ho’s cum leak out of you. He stood up, his size pushing you against his desk. He grabbed your neck roughly and kissed you.

“If i see you cuddled up with Jun- Ho tonight, I’m gonna put a bullet through his head. You’re mine” he pushed you away from him roughly. You and him walked out to the living room. You sat next to their mom. Rapidly serving yourself after they all sat.

“Holy shit, (y/n), what happened to your neck” Jun Ho asked. In Ho looked up, alarms going off in his head.

“Curling Iron” you laughed. “I was getting ready for work and burnt myself on accident.”

“Mom, have you seen it?” Jun Ho asked.

“Yes, I saw it when she came in. I gave her some cream.” Relief set in, you let out a quiet breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You and In Ho shared a quick look.

“Any of you want a drink? I have Whiskey?” You guys all took one.

Once dinner was finished, you and Jun Ho went to the living room. Watching a horror movie on the couch when In Ho came out of his room.

“What’re you idiots watching?” In Ho asked, passing you a mixed drink.

“It’s the conjuring series” You say.

“Yeah, a new movie came out, so we decided to rent all of them and watch them in chronological order.” Jun Ho said.

“Scoot over (y/n)” In Ho said pushing you.

“Damn, In Ho, you don’t have to be so rude” Jun Ho commented. In Ho shrugged getting under the big blanket you and Jun Ho were sharing. Sneaking his hand down on your thigh, gripping it tightly. The three of you kept drinking and watching movies.

“Hey (y/n)” their dad walked in. “I swear, you haven’t gone home a day in your life” he joked as you stood to hug him. You skirt flying up as you stood. In Ho stared at your ass.

“I just love it here” you smile innocently.

“Can you guys move? You’re blocking the TV” Jun Ho said moving his head trying to see around you.

“Hi Jun Ho. Hi In Ho” their father said, before walking into the kitchen. “Can you kids watch TV somewhere else? I wanna watch the game tonight” their dad said. Not really asking.

“Come on Guys, lets go to my room. I have a bigger TV” In Ho stood and walking to his room. You and Jun Ho following behind, sharing confused looks. In Ho set up the movie, starting it where it stopped. You laid comfortably in his bed.

Time skip: Later at night.

“Okay, I’m gonna head to bed.” Jun Ho says.

“yeah, I’m gonna head home.” You said slurring your words as you stumbled to your feet.

“No you’re not. You can hardly stand. Sit down” In Ho said pushing you back down.

“But I”

“You’re not walking home drunk (y/n)” Jun Ho agreed, tiredly. “It’s too late to tell Mom to get her a bed ready…”

“I guess she can sleep in my bed” In Ho sighed reluctantly.

“That’s what I was thinking. I don’t have a big enough bed for the both of us and Dad’s asleep on the couch.” Jun Ho agreed again. “Well goodnight (y/n)” Jun Ho pat your head at you got into bed, mumbling a goodnight.

Tag list

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru

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natalievoncatte · 7 months ago

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Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #light angst #love confessions #they really could have just talked about it #also they could have been going at it for like #years

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aestherin · 8 months ago

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KEEP MY HEART

goal 25: wear mine

NOTES: guys my first year of college is finally officially done !! ^^ update with a bit of narration :>

"Hey Venti," you nudged the one on your right. As the games have ended, the whole stadium has become chaotic with people wanting to go to the field to take photos with the players, while the others scrambling to get to the exit first.

"What?"

"Can you do me a favor just this once please? I'll buy you your choice of wine some other day in return I promise!" At the mention of his one and only vice, Venti's eyes became more alive. "Really, [Name]?! Go ahead and tell me your favor then, hurry!"

"I have to go somewhere else, and I'm sure Kazuha and Xiao would go looking for me immediately once they realize I'm gone," you sighed. "Can you cover up for me?"

Venti's brows furrowed. "What am I gonna tell them though?"

"Just whatever," you whispered impatiently. "As long as it works! I'll keep contact with you later!" You quietly exclaimed as you sneaked off while Xiao and Kazuha were dealing with the fans approaching them.

With your mind set on getting to a specific location as quickly as possible, you failed to pay attention to your surroundings, not noticing that a pair of golden eyes have discreetly followed your trail.

"Ugh. Finally."

You crossed your arms as Scaramouche made his way to welcome you. "Why do we always meet at parking lots?"

"Where else could we meet privately, idiot?" He flicked your forehead lightly. "Do you want to be bombarded by several people?"

"Okay no thanks, Mr. Famous."

"Don't call me that."

You smiled as you looked at him. Although he has already washed himself after the match, severe exhaustion was still visible in his form. His limbs limp, his expression weary — though he's trying desperately to mask it.

Perhaps to look his best in front of you.

"So, how do you feel?"

"Good, of course. We won, didn't we?"

"Idiot. I didn't mean that."

You only sighed at his confused expression. Perhaps, so used to this routine, he already unconsciously ignores his own feelings. There was nothing you could do about that for now.

You mustered a sincere smile, reaching out to pat his hair lightly. The curve of your lips widened even more when he subconsciously bent his head down for you. "You did well."

"Hmp."

As Scaramouche turned his face away from you (definitely not to hide the redness of his face), a gush of cold wind welcomed him, which immediately reminded him of why he called you here in the first place. He opened his car door, seemingly getting something from inside.

"Here."

"Oh?" You grinned as he handed you his gray hoodie. "I thought you were going to give me your varsity jacket," you teased.

"As if I'd give you anything dirty."

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

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nats--sw · 9 months ago

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Gold chain (pt1) | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x tennis player!reader For the past year, Leah had been a big fan of yours, and now her mother wasn't missing any opportunity to tease her during Roland Garros. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: this one is long (maybe?), sorry about that. The next part has more Leah and reader interactions, I promise. This was written with an oc, i changed everything at the last minute so sorry if there are any mistakes there,, pt2 my masterlist

Leah Williamson, England captain, European champion, Miss Arsenal.

That was how she was publicly recognised within the world of football, a sport that had always been her passion, but lately, or rather, since she had been invited to Wimbledon in 2023, she had begun to share some of that passion with tennis.

She explained to everyone that she fell in love with tennis during a deep conversation with the legendary Billie Jean King. While there was truth to that, tennis didn't captivate her so much because of the sport itself, but rather because of a certain player, who since that Wimbledon semifinal, Leah had watched almost all of her matches.

“Believe me, that girl Y/N is great, don't let this match fool you” Billie had muttered to her after witnessing your unfortunate loss in the last set.

And who was Leah to doubt the words of the greatest tennis player in history?

Since then, Leah has managed to watch as many of your matches as possible. And yes, you were undeniably beautiful, but what truly captivated Leah was the elegance with which you played. Each swing of your racket held a mesmerizing grace that left Leah spellbound every time.

And now, with a break after the final game of the European qualifiers, it was the opportunity for a holiday.

"Hey, Leah!" Georgia barged into her room on the last day of camp, now that they were back in England. "Got any plans for this week?"

"Yeah," Leah replied, without giving any details, more focused on packing her suitcase than engaging in conversation with her friend.

"Where? With who?" Georgia asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She knew Leah tended to keep her romantic interactions with girls in private, not just from the public but even from her own friends.

"With my mom, you idiot," Leah replied, rolling her eyes. "We're headed to France."

"Now? What's so interesting about France?" she asked, with a look of disgust on her face. Sure, there were plenty of interesting things to do in France, but Georgia didn't want to hear anything related to that country for a couple of days.

"Roland Garros? Does that ring a bell for you?" Leah retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Huh? Since when do you go to another country for a tennis match?"

"My mom likes it" Leah lied smoothly, without any hint of shame. If only Georgia knew that Leah had sweetened the deal for her mother with promises of fine wines and breathtaking views post-match.

"Well, that's too bad... but text me if your plans change,"

Leah nodded, though it was in vain because she wouldn't change going to France to see her favorite tennis player.

"Who are we rooting for?" Amanda said, taking a sip of her drink, not really interested in what was happening on the clay.

"Uh, we're impartial," Leah said, settling back in her seat.

Four games had already been played, each player winning their respective games.

"I have a feeling we're rooting for the girl in the white visor," her mother said.

Leah looked at her, pulling her sunglasses down a little. "What?"

"Well, you make a face every time the other player makes a point."

Leah said nothing to that comment, her attention had returned to you, now one point away from managing to break your opponent's serve. It was an important match, a semifinal, so every point would be valuable to put you in the final of the tournament.

Still not saying anything back to her mother, Leah held her breath for a few seconds. The ball was going back and forth across the court, but you, with impressive precision, hit the ball with a spin that made it graze the top of the net. For a moment, it seemed like it might fall short, but the ball dropped just over, catching your opponent off guard.

"Wonderful" muttered Leah, crossing her arms with a smile, ready to enjoy the rest of the match.

There were times when tennis was mentally overwhelming. You felt this every time you played, and it had cost you a lot of matches in the past. A whole court filled with hundreds of people, all watching you, many anxiously waiting for you to make a mistake that could cost you the match. It was more than overwhelming.

That's why, at times, you had to pause your mind and take a deep breath, despite how difficult that was for you.

You only needed one more game to win the set and secure a place in the Roland Garros final. No pressure, of course.

The advantage was that you were serving in this game, but ironically, this often made you even more nervous. The pressure of delivering a strong serve was immense.

The crowd was overwhelming, so many eyes watching you, so many unfamiliar faces focused on you, watching every move, your family and team sitting behind you. In this position you couldn’t look at them to calm down.

You needed to focus your eyes on something, to steady your nerves. As you walked towards your position, after drying your face with the towel, you looked in a diagonal direction, right towards the area where you were supposed to put the ball.

As you raised your gaze slightly, something caught your eye. In the stands, amid a sea of blonde and brown heads, was a woman with striking red hair. The woman stood out, not only because of her hair, but also because she was the only person not looking at you, instead, her attention was elsewhere.

You stole a glance at the red-haired woman as you inhaled deeply, preparing for your serve. With a fluid motion, you raised her arm, tossed the ball into the air and delivered a powerful strike.

Ace!

The ball zipped across the court with velocity, catching your opponent off guard. Convinced it would fly out, your opponent made no attempt to chase after it.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips.

Once more, your gaze flickered toward the red-haired woman in the stands. Drawing another deep breath, you focused intensely as you prepared to serve again. With a determined flick of your wrist, you sent the ball hurtling across the court, this time, your aim wasn’t for an ace, but rather to set up a play that would complicate the things for your opponent.

Within minutes the score stood at 40-15. Just one more point.

You didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but you craved to close the match with a decisive point, one point to make it clear why you were here.

So, you adjusted your visor, brushed your fingers over the gold chain hanging from your neck and looked up, for the first time looking directly at the woman, not even getting a good look at her, because the woman was quite far away, but the woman's disinterest helped you to clear your head and focus your mind, ignoring the bunch of other faces watching you.

Just one more point.

You lifted the ball, the familiar weight of your racket in your hand, a quiet groan escaping your lips before you swung. Then, the sound of the impact echoed through the entire court and as the ball bounced on the clay.

Ace!

Leah was up from her seat at the same time as you fell backwards onto the clay.

"That was incredible," Leah exclaimed, joining the chorus of applause.

"Incredible?" Amanda asked without understanding that much. However, what truly caught her off guard was the sight of her daughter like that, grinning from ear to ear. It was common to see her like that when it came to football matches, but not usually during tennis.

"Are you kidding? It was phenomenal! If you hadn't been glued to your phone, you’d have felt the same as the rest of us!" Leah retorted.

"So, did we win?" Amanda inquired.

"Well, you have won a few more days in France," Leah replied, attempting to temper her excitement. "The final is in two days."

"Do we have tickets?”

"Of course, I purchased them in advance. I already knew Y/N would make it to the finals."

Amanda regarded her daughter suspiciously. "You're not into gambling, are you?"

"Of course not," Leah replied with a grin. "But if I were to bet on her I'd do pretty well”

As they made their way toward the exit, following the crowd, Amanda broke the silence. "Do you know that player?"

"No… not personally" Leah replied "But I watched her play at Wimbledon last year."

"Did she win?"

"No" Leah shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her expression. "She lost"

"So, she's not that good?"

"Actually, she's quite impressive," Leah defended you. "She went up against the number two player in the world."

"What rank is she?" Amanda inquired.

"Four," Leah answered.

"Then she's not the best," Amanda said confidently.

"Mom!" Leah nudged her playfully while Amanda held back her laughter. "You couldn't even hit the ball."

"Neither could you, I remember your attempts at tennis when you were little," Amanda chuckled. "But what I don't get is why you're defending her so much"

"Because she's great, she’s talented! Look over there!" Leah pointed behind her, where a large screen displayed the game's results alongside your photo.

Amanda's eyes immediately gravitated toward the image, ignoring the points table. "And she's quite pretty," she remarked, studying your face for the first time.

"And she's talented," Leah emphasized, feeling a blush creeping up her ears. Thankfully, her hair concealed it from her mother's curious gaze.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Amanda replied with a smile.

It was a tough match, quite a tough match, but that's what you would expect in a Roland Garros final.

The first set ended 6-4 in favor of Iga Swiatek.

You had faced her numerous times throughout your professional career, but had never managed to defeat her in an official match. Despite your old friendship with Iga, there was an undeniable intensity when you two met on the court, and you were determined to shine this time.

As the first set concluded, you sank into your chair, you had to use the break to ease the tension in your legs. Uncapping your water bottle, your fingers instinctively found the gold chain around your neck, adorned with your initials. It may have seemed superstitious, but wearing it had always brought you luck on the court.

Suddenly, your coach's voice pierced the distance, signaling for you to relax and loosen up your play. You brushed off the advice, as if you hadn't already realized that. Ignoring your coach's guidance was risky, but you already had your own voice in your mind against you.

Taking a long sip of water, you refocused your gaze forward. Then, something caught your attention.

The same woman from the previous match was in the stands again. You hadn't noticed her before, too engrossed in your opponent. Again, that was the key to your game, you needed to block out distractions and focus on yourself and the ball. Just like you had done during the semifinal match, you needed to tune out everything else.

"How many points before your girl loses?" Amanda said, glancing sideways at Leah, who was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and a faint blush on her cheeks. According to Leah it was from the sun hitting her face, but Amanda knew her daughter well enough.

"Don't pester me, now's not the time," Leah replied, sitting up straight in her seat and adjusting her sunglasses.

"I'm not pestering you, but you claimed that girl was fantastic. Yet, from what I've seen today, the other player seems better to me."

"Well, she's number one after all"

"So, you admit she's the best."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Y/N just needs to take a breath. After this break she'll bounce back, you'll see. She'll shut your mouth"

"If you say so."

And so it happened. You had won the second set 4-6, breaking Iga's serve at the crucial moment. The victory was almost surreal, even Leah found it hard to believe.

"Stop biting your nails," her mother said, giving Leah's leg a slap as she saw her nervous habit.

"She's going to win," Leah said without looking at her mother, her gaze fixed on you, as you refreshed yourself by wetting your hair before the final set.

"Leah, you've been saying that since yesterday," Amanda remarked, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her tone.

"I’m excited," Leah defended.

Amanda shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "If she wins, will you approach her?"

"Are you being serious?" she said, shaking her head "What would I even say?" Leah replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"You've been crushing over her for days. I've never seen you like this with someone you don't even know," Amanda teased.

"It's not a crush. I just admire her athletic ability and determination, that's all," Leah insisted.

"Well, then you two have something in common. I don’t see why you don’t talk to her"

"Because... I just don't," Leah stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What a coward," Amanda teased.

The set stood at 4-5 in your favor, but now it was Iga's turn to serve, and she was already in position. You shifted your weight from side to side, preparing for the shot, a smile gracing your lips as you caught sight of the red-haired woman just above Iga’s head. The woman had become your anchor, helping you refocus on your game.

It was almost amusing, thinking that no one else existed in the crowd, just you and the woman. You could tell the woman wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in the clay. You often caught the woman glancing at her phone during the set. Yet, you found solace in playing as if you were solely performing for the woman.

However, you didn’t forget the game at hand, swiftly responding to each shot with your racket, rallying back and forth several times before you had a moment of brilliance that allowed you to execute a breathtaking drop shot in the opposite direction of Iga's sprint.

It was the highlight of the tournament, perhaps even of your career, your best point. Yet, when you glanced up and noticed the red-haired woman looking away, you couldn't help but chuckle.

With the score now at 40-AD, you needed just one more point to clinch your first grand slam title. As Iga's shot came straight towards your body, you managed to get your racket in position to return the ball. The exchange of the ball was intense, this time you had to sprint to reach a ball you never thought you could. You struck it with the edge of your racket, hoping for the best as the ball sailed toward the line.

As you watched the ball clear the net, you felt the light weight of your gold chain around your neck and remembered that luck was on your side this time.

Everything happened in slow motion as Iga dropped her racket to the ground, and moments later, you found yourself on your knees on the clay court, the crowd erupting into cheers around you.

You didn't know how, but now you were already in the stands, being hugged by your family and your team, with your coach by your side, trying to shake some of the clay off your clothes.

"I need you to do me a favor" you said to him before the tournament staff took you away for the trophy presentation.

As Leah and her mother descended the stairs toward the exit, Leah couldn't contain her excitement. "I told you Y/N would win," she exclaimed, her hand firmly grasping her mother's arm. The trophy presentation had concluded, and the crowd was beginning to disperse.

"It was luck," Amanda teased her daughter, though she couldn't deny her surprise at your remarkable turnaround.

"We should have placed a bet. We would have won"

"At least I won't have to endure your grumpy face during dinner," Amanda said with a playful smirk.

Leah rolled her eyes as they walked through the crowd.

"Excuse me!" A man's voice behind them interrupted their conversation. Leah's eyes widened as she recognized him. "This might sound strange… but Y/N wants to see you," the man explained to Amanda, who didn't understand the situation at all, her daughter didn’t either.

Leah felt a tug on the arm her mother was holding on.

"Uh-"

"It's Y/N's coach," Leah clarified to her mother.

"And she wants to see me?" Amanda asked.

The man nodded awkwardly. "I wish I could offer more explanation, but Y/N is sometimes unpredictable."

After a moment of contemplation, Amanda flashed a mischievous smile and nodded, gripping her daughter's arm even tighter. "Sure, take us to her."

Leah's heart raced. How was it possible that she was going to meet her crush the athlete she admired thanks to her mother?

Your coach, after a few minutes of walking in silence, led them through a door into a room where you were lying on a couch, eyes closed.

"Hey, Y/N. Your guests are here," your coach announced, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You quickly opened your eyes and stood up, ignoring the fact that you had just played a two-hour match less than half an hour ago.

You were no longer wearing your visor and your shoes, but you were still in your white uniform with lilac accents. Leah couldn't help but notice that your socks were now stained with clay.

"Y/N L/N" you introduced yourself, extending your hand toward Amanda. Your attention seemed focused on Amanda, oblivious to Leah standing behind her. "I'm introducing myself because I have a slight feeling you don't know me," you said with a smile.

"Amanda," she said, shaking your hand. "Don't worry, I know who you are. A little voice hasn't stopped repeating your name since we arrived in France."

Leah blushed and glanced away.

"Oh," you released Amanda's hand and turned to the blonde, whom you hadn't noticed during either match. "Shouldn't I introduce myself then?" you asked, extending your hand toward Leah.

"No need," Leah said, feeling her mother's not-so-subtle nudge as you extended your hand. "My name is Leah, and I'm a big fan of yours."

"Your number one fan," Amanda chimed in with a smile.

"Mom!" Leah protested, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

You released Leah's hand and turned to Amanda.

"She brought me all the way from England just to see you," Amanda explained, noticing the way you were looking at her daughter.

"England?" you asked, curious about the mention of England.

"Yes, we're from England," Leah confirmed.

"And my daughter is the captain of—"

"Mom, no!" Leah interjected, her cheeks turning pink as she attempted to silence her mother's impending revelation.

You couldn't help but laugh at Leah's embarrassment, finding the exchange amusing.

"Why are we here?" Leah asked before her mother could continue.

"Oh, right," you replied, regaining your composure. "I wanted to thank you," you said, turning to Amanda and clasping your hands behind your back.

"Me?" "Her?" Amanda and Leah exclaimed simultaneously, surprised by your words.

"Yes," You said softly, your gaze shifting to Leah, a smile returning to your face. "Since the semifinal match, I noticed your mother in the stands. Although, it's hard not to see her," you added, gesturing towards Amanda's red hair. "She was the only person in the whole court who wasn't looking at me. Thanks to her, I was able to concentrate and win. It may sound silly but—"

"Oh, don't worry honey," Amanda interjected. "They usually tell me that I bring good luck in big games," she said, nodding towards Leah with her thumb.

"You're an athlete? Sorry, what was your name again? I don't have a good memory with names," you said, this time blushing slightly.

"Honey, Leah is the captain of the England team," Amanda clarified, speaking on behalf of her daughter.

"Oh... Football? Volleyball?" You inquired.

"Yes, football," Leah replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life, not even as a child.

You glanced Leah up and down once more. You had never imagined a football player could dress so stylishly. You found yourself so engrossed in observing Leah's attire that you only snapped back to reality when your coach cleared his throat.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure to thank you for your help, even if you didn't realize it," you said, pulling an autographed tennis ball out of your pocket. "I'm not sure how valuable this is to you, but perhaps your daughter will appreciate it," you added with a laugh, glancing sideways at Leah. "Well, I must be off now, interviews and all that," you explained, walking away to grab your bag. "Hope to see you two at Wimbledon," you said, winking at Amanda before leaving.

The next day, Leah found herself at the airport, keeping an eye on their suitcases while her mother went to grab something to eat. Suddenly, a notification on her phone caught her off guard.

Y/N_kz started following you

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader

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tulip-room · 15 days ago

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sickness and ginger - tsukishima kei || wc: 520 || genre: fluff || masterlist || warnings: sick reader, ooc tsukki bcs idc <3 everyone gets soft treatment when I write them <3

syn. y/n gets sick on valentine's day and tsukki is actually nice about it

she can’t believe she got sick on valentine’s day of all days. to make matters worse, kei had away game today so here she was cursing whoever decided to play this sick joke on her. of course kei had teased her relentlessly for getting sick which only served to make the experience worse because her mind felt too weighed down to even begin to respond. she tries to keep her eyes open to watch the match but they fall closed before she’s aware of it.

when she opens them again she’s met with the smell of ginger and thinks she must still be dreaming. “sickie, i have tea for you.” tsukishima pushes the door open and leans against the doorframe for a moment. “i know, oh what are you doing here?” he rolls his eyes and mocks what he thinks she’s thinking. the moment he gets close enough her arms wrap around him and he can’t help but let himself relax a little bit as the glass hits the table with a dull clink. “hi, i made you tea.”

“i see, i’m sad those glasses aren’t helping your eyesight.” he pinches the bridge of her nose lightly in retort and sits down on the bed with her. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, now drink the tea and you’re not kissing me. i refuse to get sick.”

“okay,” this is all she needed. she was already beginning to feel better, the warmth of the tea glided down her throat and soothed the sharp pain and tsukishima for all his fuss was actually nice to lay on. the cold leaving her body as she was wrapped in a multitude of blankets and her boyfriend. “thank you.”

“don’t thank me, just get better. i hate you being sick. now what do you want to do?”

“i’m partial to just laying here” so they lay there with the gentle humming of the heater filling the house, the occasional rustle of the blankets and the warmth of tea. for a moment she believed being sick wasn’t that bad. if she got to spend it like this maybe the sore throat and runny nose was worth it. then she coughed and realized. no, being sick really sucks. soft tsukishima is just a plus of that. she put of her homework and the thought of having to do it when she got better made her groan.

“i know what you’re thinking, stop it. i can help you with your homework when you feel better. until then just…rest.” she can feel the hum of his voice as her head rests on his chest. the steady rhythm of his breathing and heart ends up lulling her back to sleep. “idiot, getting sick.” he kisses her forehead and sets the tea to the side. it’s going to be a hassle to clean up but that’s okay, he’ll make as many mugs of ginger tea that she’ll only drink half of as she wants. it’s all for her and he wouldn’t have it any other way. the best way to get rid of sickness is ginger tea and love.

asha, ths is for you <33 I know it's not valentine's for most of the moots anymore but I hope you still appreciate this darling <33 also sorry with how late it is I was so busy today T^T ennjoy the gift and I hope you had a wonderful valentine's day. I love you so much and I'm so happy you're my friend <3

if you guys want to see the other stuff I'm writing today you can find that here <3

taglist (gen fil out this form to be added) @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @cherrysurf @cheriisae @darthferbert @localgaytrainwreck @lale-txt @szyvrue @wyrcan

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq fluff #haikyuu fic #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei fluff #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you

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starsjulia · 2 months ago

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falling for an athlete // leah williamson

a/n : decided to write something fluffy for a change, also this is set way in the future

warnings : none!!

———————

The dinner table was a war zone of cutlery and sarcasm, typical for a Williamson household meal. Ellie, your beloved daughter, sat cross-legged on her chair with a plate of half-eaten pasta in front of her, was giving her best mate Liv a look the kind of look that screamed, “I swear, if you ask one more question, I’ll disown you.”

But Liv, bless her, clearly couldn’t read the signs. “So, like,” she started innocently, eyes flicking between you and Leah, “how did you two meet?”

Ellie’s head snapped toward her friend, a fork clattering against her plate. “No. Liv, no. You’ve bloody done it now.”

Leah, sat across the table with a smug grin and one socked foot propped on the chair leg, looked like she’d been waiting for this moment all night. “Finally! Someone wants to hear a proper love story.”

Ellie groaned so loud it could’ve woken the neighbours. “It’s not a love story. It’s a tragedy for me.”

You, sitting beside Leah, chuckled and reached under the table to squeeze her thigh. “Do you want to start, or shall I?”

Leah grinned, her accent getting sharper as her excitement grew. “Oh, I’ll start. Can’t trust you to tell it properly, you’ll skip all the best bits.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m leaving home. I can’t do this anymore.”

“behave,” Leah teased, before turning to Liv with an exaggerated seriousness. “Right, so picture this I was twenty-four, still a baby, but obviously very fit—”

Ellie interrupted with a glare. “Oh my God, stop talking.”

Leah ignored her. “I’d just finished a match, and me and the girls went to the pub. And then in walks her.” Leah nodded toward you, her grin softening into something fond. “Leather jacket, perfect hair, like something out of a film. I actually choked on me pint when I saw her.”

Liv gasped, clearly entertained. “You choked?”

“Full-on coughing fit,” Leah confirmed proudly. “Nearly sprayed it everywhere. My mates were in stitches.”

You jumped in, smirking. “She looked like a right idiot. Bright red, coughing like she’d swallowed a fly.”

“Yeah, well,” Leah countered, shooting you a playful glare, “it was your fault for looking like a sexy lead singer of an indie band. I panicked.”

Ellie muttered, “I’m living with children,” as she slouched further into her chair.

“So,” Leah continued, ignoring her daughter entirely, “I worked up the courage, walked over, and said, ‘Alright, love, can I buy you a drink?’”

“And I said, ‘No, I’m alright, thanks,’” you added, grinning.

Liv’s mouth fell open as she looked at you. “You rejected her?!”

“Too right I did,” you said proudly. “I wasn’t about to fall for some cocky athlete with a cheeky grin.”

Ellie jabbed her fork toward you. “You failed miserably, though, didn’t you?”

Leah grinned like a Cheshire cat. “She did. But she held out for a bit hard to get, y’know? Proper challenge. I had to step up me game.”

“Oh, step up is a stretch,” you teased, narrowing your eyes. “She nearly died of embarrassment.”

Liv’s eyes widened again, practically vibrating in her seat. “Wait, what happened?”

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “This is where it gets slightly less smooth.”

You smirked, looking far too proud of yourself. “So Leah decided she’d pull some grand romantic gesture, very dramatic, very her. She found out which café I went to every morning for my coffee and pastry. I walked in one day, and the girl behind the counter hands me this bag.”

Leah muttered, already cringing. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Written on the bag,” you said, glancing at Liv with a gleeful smile, “in massive block letters, was: ‘FREE PASTRY BECAUSE I THINK YOU’RE FIT—LEAH W.’”

Liv choked on her laughter, clutching her stomach. “No! You didn’t!”

“She did,” you confirmed, grinning as you leaned back. “I nearly died laughing. She’d paid for the whole thing up front, too. Couldn’t even take the croissant back when I refused it.”

Leah groaned again, though there was still a fond smile on her face. “The worst part? I wrote the note with one of those thick black permanent markers Thought it looked bold. Turns out it just looked like a five-year-old wrote it.”

Ellie was curled up in her chair, face buried in her hoodie, muttering, “I can’t believe I’m related to you.”

“I did try and make up for it,” Leah added quickly, looking at you like you’d hung the moon. “I bought her another coffee the next day. And, y’know, didn’t write anything embarrassing on it.”

“Very impressive recovery,” you teased. “But you still looked like a nervous wreck when you handed it over.”

Leah shrugged, unbothered. “Because I was. And I still managed to win you over, didn’t I?”

Liv, still laughing, wiped at her eyes. “That’s actually the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. I get why you tried so hard, she’s fit.”

Ellie’s head shot up in absolute horror. “Liv! That’s my mum! You can’t say that!”

“What?” Liv replied innocently. “I’m just saying…look at her!”

Ellie covered her face with both hands. “I’m never eating dinner here again. This is trauma.”

Leah laughed, grinning mischievously as she leaned closer to you. “She’s still fit now, though, isn’t she?”

“Leah,” you warned, though you were smiling.

“I mean, look at her,” Leah continued, purposefully loud and dramatic. “I married the fittest woman in England.”

Ellie flung a napkin across the table at her. “Stop. You’re both disgusting.”

Leah just grinned, pressing a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. “Jealous, El?”

Ellie groaned. “I’m moving out. This is unbearable.”

——————

Later that night, you were curled up in bed with Leah, the house finally quiet. Leah lay on her side, her arm draped lazily across your waist as she looked at you with that soft, adoring smile, he one that always made your heart flutter, even after all these years.

“You know,” she said softly, her voice thick with her accent, “I reckon Liv’s got a little crush on you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Oh, does she?”

“Mm-hmm,” Leah murmured, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hip. “Can’t blame her, really. I’d still try and win you over with pastries if I met you now.”

You laughed quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Still got a crush on me, have you?”

Leah’s smile turned impossibly soft as she leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. “Always, love. I’m still completely gone for you.”

You kissed her back, lingering for a moment before pulling away just enough to whisper, “Good. Because I’m still completely gone for you, too.”

Leah grinned, pressing her forehead to yours. “Worth every dodgy croissant and marker pen note.”

You laughed again, tangling your fingers in her hair. “You’re lucky I found you so endearing.”

“I know,” she replied, grinning as she kissed you once more. “But don’t tell Ellie. She’ll never let me live it down.”

And as Leah pulled you closer, her arm tightening around you, you couldn’t help but smile. Even after all these years, her love still felt as sweet—and as chaotic—as that first pastry.

#woso #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson x you #leah williamson one shot #leah williamson fluff #engwnt x reader

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heliosunny · 2 months ago

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YANDERE!SAE x READER

And so... he's changed Sae was a genius. You’d known it all along. Your (once) friend was a prodigy in soccer. You’d marvel at how effortlessly he made his goals. But life, as it often does, pulled you away. Your parents' work demanded relocation, and you left without so much as a goodbye.

You often thought back to those days, replaying the memories in your mind. He was distant, never chatty, but you still tried. Compliments, small gifts like sweets, you always hoped to get through to him. Most times, he'd just hand them off to his younger brother, Rin. You convinced yourself he wouldn’t miss you. You were just a face in the audience, after all.

Yet Sae noticed.

At first, he thought you might’ve been sick or busy. You never missed a game before. He told himself you’d show up at the next match. But when his mother mentioned over dinner that your family had moved, his world stilled.

When? Why? And why hadn’t you told him?

He told himself it didn’t matter. There was no time to dwell on things outside soccer. Yet the gnawing ache in his chest refused to leave. He hated himself for how easily your memory began to fade. He didn’t want to forget. He promised himself that one day, he’d find you again.

-----------

Years later, standing in a packed stadium, Sae’s sharp teal eyes scanned the crowd. Then he saw you. Older, more composed, but undeniably you.

“There you are, Y/n L/n.”

The sound of his voice made your blood run cold. Your best friend, Hana, practically screamed beside you, overwhelmed by the sight of the famous Sae Itoshi addressing you.

He didn’t waste time. The crowd dispersed, and he cornered you. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

“Explain yourself.” he demanded.

“What?” you replied, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m just here because my friend dragged me along.”

His jaw clenched. “You left without saying a word. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Sae, I was a kid. My family had to move for work. What was I supposed to do? And you-” You pointed at him. “You barely acknowledged me back then! What did it matter if I was there or not?”

“It mattered!” he hissed, stepping closer. “You mattered. You still matter.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but I have my own life now. Just… let it go.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Sae frozen in place. How could you be so indifferent? Didn’t you see how much he’d changed, how much he’d suffered... all because of you?

---------- Later that night, Hana regretted letting you drink so much. You slumped over the table, utterly unconscious. “I shouldn’t have let you drink, idiot!” she muttered, trying to shake you awake.

“Need some help?” a familiar voice asked.

Hana turned to see Sae standing there, his teal eyes locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Oh! Sae Itoshi, right?” Hana stammered, momentarily starstruck. “Um, my friend’s had a bit too much to drink…”

“I’ll take her,” Sae said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Oh, but-”

“I’ve known her for years,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Before Hana could protest, Sae had you slung over his shoulder. His grip was possessive, and his gaze was cold as he turned away. ---------- When you woke up, your head pounded like a drum. You blinked, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. It wasn’t your apartment. The room was too pristine, too impersonal.

Panic set in as you sat up, only to find Sae sitting in a chair by the door, watching you.

“Sae?” you croaked. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

“You’re safe,” he said simply. “With me.”

Your heart raced. “What? Sae, I need to go home-”

“This is your home now.” His calm tone was more chilling than any shout. “You won’t leave me again.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Sae, this isn’t funny. Take me home.”

He stood and walked over, his shadow looming over you. “I don’t think you understand, Y/n. You’re the reason I kept going. Every match, every goal—I did it all for you. And now, I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Not your parents, not your friends, no one.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you realized the depth of his obsession. “Sae… you’re scaring me.”

His expression softened, but his eyes remained unnervingly intense. “You don’t need to be scared. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never have to leave again.”

As he reached out to touch your face, you flinched, but there was nowhere to run. The door was locked, and the man you once called a friend had become someone you barely recognized.

And so, Sae Itoshi had changed- but not in the way you’d hoped.

#yandere #itoshi sae #blue lock #bllk x reader #sae x reader #yandere x reader

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777bae · 22 days ago

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UNFILTERED LOVE WILL SMITH

Summary :: After a rough day, you snap, frustration spilling over in front of Will. But instead of pulling away, he meets your fire with quiet understanding, reminding you that your passion isn’t a flaw—it’s something he loves. (REQUESTED :: prompt 23)

Warnings :: Easily annoyed reader (anger issues kinda?)

Word count :: 3.4k

You’re both sitting at the kitchen table in Will’s apartment, the late evening light filtering softly through the window, casting long, thin shadows that stretch across the floor. It’s a quiet, peaceful scene, but beneath the calm, there’s an unmistakable tension building in you, an undercurrent of frustration that seems to have followed you all day. The steady hum of the overhead lights fills the silence, the faint buzz almost rhythmic, matching the quietness of the apartment. Will is absorbed in his phone, scrolling through messages from teammates, checking stats for his upcoming game, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. You, on the other hand, are doing the same thing, but your mind isn’t in it. Your fingers trace the condensation on the side of your glass, the water pooling in lazy rings, but your thoughts are elsewhere. They’re swirling with a restless energy that you can’t shake.

The frustration started early in the morning. It was a series of small things, inconsequential on their own, but together, they were enough to push you to the edge. You’re usually good at brushing things off, keeping a level head when minor annoyances come your way, but today, it felt like the universe was conspiring against you. The first incident was at the grocery store—nothing major, just a rude cashier who barely acknowledged your presence. You’d asked a simple question about the organic apples, but the cashier had rolled their eyes and answered in a tone that made your skin prickle. You tried to shrug it off, but it lingered in the back of your mind, irritating you more than it should have.

Then, on the way home, it happened again—another idiot on the road, cutting you off without a signal, forcing you to slam on the brakes. The screech of tires had sent your heart into your throat, your hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension. You cursed under your breath as you tried to regain control of the situation, but the anger boiled inside of you. Why do people have to drive like that? you thought, the frustration simmering.

And to top it off, there was the friend who had promised to meet you for coffee and completely bailed without a single word of explanation. Why do people do that? you asked yourself, rolling your eyes, but still feeling the sting of it. You’d been looking forward to the meet-up, hoping it would be a chance to catch up, but instead, you were left sitting alone at a table for one, a cup of cold coffee slowly turning to ice in front of you.

Now, here you are, sitting across from Will, trying to keep it together, but the weight of everything is making it harder to breathe. The pressure is mounting, your patience is wearing thin, and all those little irritations from the day are crowding your mind, demanding attention. You try to focus on the moment—on Will, on the calm of the apartment—but it’s no use. The frustration is building like a storm inside you, a tight knot in your chest, and it’s only a matter of time before it bursts free.

You set your glass down with more force than you mean to, the sharp clink of it against the table echoing loudly in the quiet room. The noise is suddenly too harsh, too jarring, and you instantly regret it. You glance up at Will, worried that you’ve disrupted the calm atmosphere, but you can see that he’s already noticed. His eyes lift from his phone, narrowing slightly as he takes in the change in your energy. You can feel his gaze on you, like a weight pressing on your chest. He tilts his head, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Everything okay?” His voice is soft but laced with an edge of something else—something you can’t quite place. It’s not accusatory, but it’s not casual, either. It’s the voice of someone who knows that something’s off, but is waiting for you to open up about it.

You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the flood of words that are threatening to spill out. You don’t want to be that person—the one who gets upset over the little things, the one who lets her anger take over, especially not in front of him. But today, it feels impossible to control. The frustration is like a tight coil inside you, ready to snap. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, the words rush out.

“I’m so sick of people acting like they can just do whatever the hell they want,” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you intend. Your voice is loud, too loud for the quiet of the room, and your hand slams down onto the table with a force that makes the entire surface shift slightly. It’s as if the anger has taken over, and now you can’t keep it contained. “Like, do they think they own the road or something? Or that it’s fine to just be rude to me when I’m just trying to be polite?”

The words tumble out, one after the other, fueled by a frustration that has been building all day. Your heart is pounding, your pulse quickening with the heat of it, and before you can stop yourself, you’re on your feet, pacing back and forth. You feel restless, agitated, like your body can’t contain the anger that’s been simmering for hours. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor behind you, a sound that cuts through the silence and makes you feel even more exposed. But it’s like you can’t stop moving. The words keep coming, faster now, spilling out in a rush of frustration.

“And don’t even get me started on the people who think I’m being too much when I call them out on their crap!” You stop and turn to face him, hands on your hips, your voice rising in volume. “Like, I’m not asking for the world here. I’m just asking for basic decency, but apparently that’s asking too much. And then I get told I’m too harsh, or that I’m too sensitive or….” You falter, cutting yourself off mid-sentence, the anger turning into an exasperated sigh. You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s like the anger has taken over completely.

You stop pacing, and for a moment, the silence hangs heavy in the air. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and your pulse is still racing. You can feel the weight of your outburst settle over you, and with it comes a rush of embarrassment. I went too far, you think, your face flushing with heat. Why did I snap like that?

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure of how to backtrack. You don’t want Will to think you’re crazy or overdramatic. You don’t want him to see the anger you’ve been hiding inside. There’s a part of you that’s scared—scared that he’ll think you’re out of control, that your temper will scare him away. You’ve acted out before, not necessarily against him, but in other situations—like the time you yelled at a delivery driver for not getting your order right, or when you snapped at a friend for being late for dinner yet again. You’ve never meant for it to escalate like that, but sometimes it just does. And in those moments, you’ve always feared that maybe you were pushing people away, that your anger would be the thing that made them run.

You turn to Will, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath. The weight of your outburst hangs in the air, and as your gaze meets his, you see the concern in his eyes. But there’s no judgment. No frustration. Just quiet patience. His expression is soft, but it’s the kind of softness that says I’m here, that says he’s not going anywhere. You feel a rush of guilt settle over you—I’ve let it spill over on him, haven’t I? You’ve let your anger, all the tension that’s been building up all day, spill into this moment, and now you’re terrified that it’s too much—that it’s going to push him away.

Does he think I’m crazy? The thought hits you like a punch to the stomach, sharp and sudden. Is he scared of me now? You can’t help but wonder if the outburst was the tipping point, the moment when you’ve shown too much of yourself, the part of you that sometimes can’t control the frustration, the anger that rises when things go wrong. You’re scared that your inability to hold it together will drive him away, that he’ll see you in a different light—someone who’s too much to handle. Someone whose emotions are too intense.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. This is it. This is the moment he’ll get tired of me. He’ll realize I’m just too much, you think, the self-doubt spiraling. You want to take the words back, but you can’t, and the embarrassment surges so quickly that it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. You’re exposed, your vulnerabilities laid bare, and all you can do is stand there, wishing you could rewind time.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quieter now, cracking with guilt. You look down at the floor, your cheeks burning with the weight of your own self-criticism. You’re trying to hide the fear behind your apology, but it slips through anyway. The fear that he might look at you differently, the fear that this might be the end of whatever connection you thought you had. You just want to make it stop, want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I don’t know why I… I just get so mad sometimes,” you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. They feel jagged as they leave your mouth, like they don’t quite fit together. “It’s like I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the person who snaps over stupid stuff, who’s so easily frustrated, who…” You cut yourself off, the anxiety rising in your chest like a suffocating wave. You feel like you’re unraveling right in front of him, and the fear of pushing him too far makes it worse. You try to steady your breathing, but it feels impossible. You feel so small, like you’re asking him to forgive a part of you that’s too much to bear.

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect,” you whisper, the words hanging in the air between you, vulnerable and raw. You can’t meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. The silence that follows feels deafening, and you hold your breath, waiting for his response, praying that he won’t say what you fear. Am I scaring him? The thought repeats in your mind like a broken record, looping and looping until you can’t focus on anything else.

But instead of pulling away, instead of backing off, Will steps forward. Slowly, deliberately, his movements calm and sure. He doesn’t flinch or recoil. Instead, he closes the space between you, and his presence wraps around you like a warm, steady anchor in the storm. You feel a wave of comfort flood through you, but it’s mixed with confusion. You’re not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t this.

His hands come up to your shoulders, gentle but firm, guiding you to face him. The touch is grounding, like he’s silently telling you, I’m here. It’s okay. When you finally meet his gaze, it’s not with the eyes of someone who’s disappointed or unsure. It’s soft—full of something warm and understanding—and you feel the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crack. He’s not angry. He’s not scared. He’s just looking at you, you—the whole, imperfect person you are—and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, but reassuring. His words are steady, like he’s trying to calm the storm inside of you, one breath at a time. “Don’t apologize.”

You blink, your mind reeling, trying to process the unexpected kindness in his tone. “What?” It’s almost like you didn’t hear him right. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, and you can’t quite make sense of the shift in the atmosphere. He takes a small step closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek, the touch soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to reassure you with each gentle movement. It’s not rushed. It’s not hurried. It’s like he wants to make sure you feel the warmth of his words before they settle into your heart.

“You don’t need to apologize for being frustrated,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now. The sound of it is calming, like a steady hand on a wild horse. “You don’t need to apologize for being yourself.” He lets the words linger, and there’s a vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache. You want to believe him, but the self-doubt is still there, echoing in your mind. You open your mouth, ready to argue, but he gently stops you.

He continues, his thumb still brushing your cheek, the touch sending little sparks of warmth across your skin. “You don’t have to be perfect, and I don’t want you to think you have to be,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice wraps around you like a blanket. “I don’t need you to be calm all the time. I actually like how passionate you are.”

You blink, surprised by the honesty in his words. “How… passionate?” you repeat, the confusion lacing your tone.

Will smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, that softens the edges of his face. “Yeah.” He steps even closer now, his hand still resting on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. “How real you are. You’re not afraid to feel things, to speak your mind. And I… I think that’s kind of cute, honestly.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over your heart, sweeping away the panic and the constant whirl of self-doubt that had been tightening around you. For a moment, everything feels still, like the world outside the two of you has faded into the background. You blink rapidly, trying to process what Will just said, because it doesn’t quite make sense in the way you expected. He’s not frustrated. He’s not backing away. He’s not annoyed by your outbursts or the fact that you get worked up over things that, in hindsight, feel small. He’s actually telling you that he likes it.

The realization doesn’t sink in right away. There’s a part of you that wants to pull back, that wants to laugh it off, because it seems too good to be true. He can’t really mean that, you think, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he’s standing there, not only accepting your frustration but embracing it. The voice of doubt in your head is loud, but the tenderness in his eyes softens it. Slowly, you begin to believe him. Slowly, you start to feel the weight of his words.

“But I got mad over nothing,” you protest weakly, your voice uncertain, almost apologetic. The words stumble out, as if you’re trying to convince yourself that your feelings weren’t valid. “It’s just stupid little things. People being rude. Getting cut off in traffic. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of ticking time bomb who’s gonna explode over a coffee order or something.” You laugh nervously, but the underlying fear is still there—fear that your emotions, these raw outbursts, will one day drive him away.

Will chuckles softly, the sound low and comforting, and for a brief moment, you feel weightless, like his laugh is lifting you just enough to quiet the inner turmoil. It’s a small sound, but it’s full of warmth, full of a quiet reassurance that you weren’t expecting. He brushes his thumb over your cheek again, slow and deliberate, as if he’s trying to calm the last of your worries with the gentleness of his touch.

“Nah,” he says softly, his voice rich with sincerity. “It’s not like that.” He leans in just a little, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get why you’re frustrated. People suck sometimes. But honestly? I think it’s adorable when you get worked up over stuff like that. Especially when it’s because someone deserves it.” His lips curl up in a half-smile, one that makes you feel warm all over, like there’s no need to hide any part of yourself. “I don’t think you’re a ticking time bomb. I think you’re just… you. And I love that about you.”

His words wash over you like a balm, slowly soothing the wounds you didn’t even realize were there. The doubts that had been circling your mind—those fears that your temper might be something to be ashamed of, that you were somehow broken for being easily frustrated—begin to melt away. It’s hard to believe him at first, because you’ve been so used to apologizing for your imperfections, for the parts of you that don’t fit neatly into the boxes other people might expect. But with every word, every reassuring touch, the tightness in your chest loosens. You feel lighter, and with that lightness, a small, hopeful smile starts to form on your lips. Maybe I don’t need to apologize, you think. Maybe it’s okay to just be who I am.

“You think it’s cute?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and as soon as they leave your mouth, you can hear the disbelief in your tone. It’s almost like you’re testing him, like you want to see if he really means it, or if it’s all just some fluke. But the way he smiles at you—like he’s completely genuine, like he sees you with all your fire, all your frustration, and still wants to be close to you—makes the words feel a little more real.

“Yeah,” Will says, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “I think it’s cute when you stand up for yourself, when you don’t let people walk all over you. You get worked up over things that matter to you, and I respect that. It shows me how strong you are.” He steps closer, the space between you shrinking even more, like he’s making sure you understand how important this is. His voice softens, his gaze softens, and you can feel his sincerity in your bones. “I don’t want you to change.”

The weight in your chest finally begins to lift, slowly, as his words sink in deeper, melting away the remnants of your insecurity. For the first time, you start to believe him. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to be this way. Maybe your anger, your frustration, your passion—whatever it is—doesn’t need to be something you hide. Maybe it’s just another layer of what makes you you. Will doesn’t need you to change. He doesn’t need you to be calm or perfect all the time. He just wants you to be real.

Will steps closer again, his presence calming, pulling you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to fix anything. Instead, he wraps his arms around you in a slow, steady hug. It’s the kind of embrace that says I’m here without needing to say a word.

You let out a small, surprised laugh, a sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside of you. It’s light, unguarded, the kind of laugh that feels like a release. The tension from the day, from your earlier outbursts, begins to melt away. Maybe you’re not perfect. Maybe you don’t always know how to keep your frustration in check. Maybe you lose your cool over little things. But that’s okay. Because Will doesn’t need you to be perfect. He doesn’t need you to hold everything together. He just wants you to be the passionate, fiery person that you are. And somehow, that feels like enough.

As Will holds you, you feel something inside you shift—an understanding, a sense of peace. Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to apologize for feeling things deeply. Maybe it’s the way Will accepts you, flaws and all, without question. Whatever it is, it feels like a burden lifting off your shoulders. You don’t need to be anyone other than yourself, and for the first time in a long time, you’re starting to believe it.

#nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x you #san jose sharks #san jose sharks imagine #san jose sharks x reader #sj sharks #san jose sharks x you #will smith nhl #will smith x you #will smith x reader #will smith imagine #will smith hockey #ws2 x reader #ws2 imagine #ws2

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lovecla · 6 months ago

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter four:

➴ warnings: angst, jealousy, insecurities

➴ word count: 3.9k

➴ author’s note: this is a mess, soph and jack are a mess, quinn’s a sweetheart, grace’s funny af and i’ve reached 100 followers today. can’t even describe how happy i am with the attention IYLM,LMK is getting. i adore u all so much and i hope u stick with me for a while. prepare your seatbelts because shit is about to hit the fan. :,)

SOMETHING changed between you and Jack that day at the Skims set, a week ago.

You finally realized that you are, very much, in love with Jack Hughes. Which was something that you never, in a million years, would’ve guessed. Because, what; you told yourself you’d never get your heart shattered again, yet here you were, walking straight (and worse: willingly) into a trap, falling in love with the man whore of the Devils team.

Despite all of the mean things your mind wanted to tell you, you just forced yourself to remember that not every man is like your cheater ex boyfriend and that not every man would completely crush your heart and tear it apart.

And even though you wouldn't put your hand on the fire and say that he felt the same way as you, if he didn’t, that man was good at pretending. Because no way in hell he’d take all of his fuck buddies to their family lake cabin to throw a Halloween party.

“This is crazy, Jack, you are in the middle of the season, and I’m in the middle of releasing something…” you started, watching as the car took a turn. “Also, how the fuck did you manage to organise a party in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Uh. I’m literally a NHL player. What did you expect?” He scoffed, so full of himself it was almost impossible to stand. You rolled your eyes. “And it’s just a night. I’m not screwing everything up for having fun for one night only, baby, and neither is you.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, answering some texts messages on your phone.

“I’m always right.” You rolled your eyes again, watching as he drove with ease. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“My fans have been dying for me to dress up as Rapunzel, so I might as well please them.” You shrugged, locking your phone and putting it on your pocket.

“I don’t know about them but I am definitely pleased with the idea.” He smirked.

“You’re just horny, Hughes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Or you’re just pretty. Happens to some of us.”

You laughed, cheeks warm and heart beating fast. “You’re a flirt, Jack Hughes. I missed that. Is it always this crazy during the season?”

“Like you can’t even imagine. My life is just games, working out, eating plain shit and practice for seven months straight.”

“And you love every second of it, don’t you?”

He smiled, white teeth making the view seem a whole lot brighter. “I do, yes. It’s like… the only thing that makes me feel truly alive.”

“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” you whispered. “I feel like that when I’m on the stage too. It’s just… I don’t know. Makes me feel good.”

“I like seeing you on stage,” he nodded and you raised your brow. “What? I do, really. That concert I went to with Nico was fun. Besides, watching you dance with those little dresses of yours is something else.”

“Boo, you’re just an idiot!” You laughed. “But thank you, Jackie bear.”

“Sophia, Jesus, do not call me that,” he whined, but the smile was still on his lips. “Gross.”

“Okay, Jackie bear, whatever you want, honeypot.”

“Sophia!”

— ♡

THE cabin was packed with people, and you were amazed with how fast people arrived, even with the short notice.

You were waiting for Grace to finish getting ready— she would be wearing a Tiana costume, matching your Rapunzel one— so you both could go downstairs and enjoy the party.

“Jack’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you with that little skirt,” Grace said, while applying lip gloss on her plump lips.

“Yeah, about that… I might need to talk to you about something.” You started, crossing your legs.

She stared at you through the mirror, raising her eyebrows. “Go on, Pinky Pie.”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Twilight and you’re my Mordecai?” You giggled, making Grace laugh too.

“I guess we can pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…” she sighed. “Go on, then, baby. We don’t have all night.”

“So. I may or may have a thing for Jack. Actually, maybe more than just a thing. Think I’m in love, to be honest,” you waited to see her reaction, not expecting her to jump out of the vanity and start twirling around the room, making you laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “I just won two hundred bucks!”

Confusion took over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I told Nico that you’d be in love with Jack by the end of October and he said you’d be in love with him by the end of November, and since you confessed it now— perfect timing, by the way— I get my two hundred bucks!” She started dancing and jumping, like she wasn’t a nepo baby.

“Grace! What the hell, this is serious!” You raised your arms.

She sat back on the bed.

“Girl, no it isn’t. Just go to him and say: hey, buddy, here’s a secret not so secret: I’m in love with you.” She shrugged. “Just don’t sing the Airplanes song, please. That’s, like, our thing.”

“Grace, I— I can’t even— what the hell,” you wanted to run your hands through your hair, but you remembered that you were wearing extensions and a tiara. So you stick with biting your nails instead. “First of all, why the fuck would you and Nico bet on something like this? That doesn’t even make sense. Second, I can’t just go over there, call him and tell him I like him. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, Nico was the one who proposed the idea of betting so that’s on him!” She raised a finger. “And yes, that is literally how it works.”

“You’re forgetting that this is Jack Hughes. A guy who, apparently, can’t stay a week without a pussy and fucked every Jerseywoman who walked on God’s green earth.”

“Ew, don’t say that! You know my mom’s New Jersian…” she sighed, making a disgusted face. You smiled, apologetically. “Okay. I know that Jack’s past may not be the ideal background you want for your baby daddy but hear me out!”

“Baby daddy? What—”

“Jack hasn’t touched anyone else since you guys started… well. Fucking.” She blushes, like she wasn’t calling him your baby daddy not even a minute ago. “And he’s a great, great person. I’ve seen how he looks at you and if that man isn’t in love, then I’m white as a sheet of paper.”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling frustrated. “Harris also seemed like a great guy, and when we got together, everything changed. I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

“I know it hurt, and God knows I’d rather mop the entire ocean than to see you like that again,” she scooched closer, grabbed your hands and pressed her lips together, the REM Beauty lip gloss making her lips look magical. “But you have to give yourself that chance again. It’s been more than a year, and I’ve seen you and Jack together.”

“I know that, but—”

Grace clicked her tongue, a tsc reverberating on the bedroom walls.

“I’m telling you this as someone who isn’t inside that little head of yours,” she whispered, holding your hands tighter. “You and Jack together? Girl, that’s meant to be. That’s like Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet, Hazel and Gus—”

“Girl, what the hell, can’t you find a couple who at least one of them is still alive?” You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just love depressing stories…” she apologized before starting talking again. “That’s not the point, anyway, Miss Girl and you know it! Fuck whatever your head is telling you, Soph: you deserve to be loved and you deserve to love.”

“I didn’t say I love h—” she put a hand over your mouth, interrupting you.

“You don’t have to. I know you, Soph, and the look you get on your face whenever you talk to him, or even better, talk about him, is enough for me,” she kissed your cheek, quickly wiping the lip gloss stain on your face. “And let me tell you a secret, honeybun, he has the same look on his face.”

You smiled, cheeks carmesim and heart full. Thanking Grace for saying all of this wasn’t enough, you needed to buy her a house on the beach with a very naked Nico Hischier inside of it. Maybe that’s what you were going to do.

If only you knew how to convince Nico to be naked at a beach house, you’d certainly—

Someone knocked on the door, and you both got up, surprisingly fast, remembering that you were not alone and that there was a whole party happening downstairs.

Opening the door, you faced Jack who looked way too hot with his own jersey. Of course he’d be wearing a Jack Hughes, NHL Player costume. Of fucking course.

“You were taking too long up here so I came to check on you but maybe we’ll be here for a bit longer.” He smirked, hands finding your corset-covered waist instantly.

“Hum—”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-can’t-keep-myself-in-my-pants, I’m still here.” Grace yelled behind you, and you watched as his entire face showed his annoyance.

“Yeah, I can see. Feel free to leave, though,” he rolled his eyes, holding your right hand and twirling you around. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Your entire face felt like a fireplace but you still smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You both are disgusting, excuse me,” Grace walked past the both of you, mumbling something about checking in with her husband.

“Let’s go.” He offered you his hands, which you promptly held.

Going downstairs, you were surprised with how full the house was. Like, there were at least fifty people there, which seemed insane for a cabin, no matter how large it was.

Jack dragged you around, saying “hi” to every person you walked by, true to his NHL playboy persona. To your amusement, some people also acknowledged you. Mostly some girls and a few guys. It was nice.

“Sophia!” You heard a shout and immediately knew who it was. Trevor Zegras, wearing a pirate costume, which was just an excuse for him to be shirtless, really. One of the most annoying people you’ve ever met. Truthfully. “Damn, I’d climb that tower for you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d push you down that shit, Zegras, fuck off.”

Jack laughed softly beside you, moving until you were both sitting on the couch. Quinn, Luke, Nico, Grace and Zegras were all there, talking with a few people you didn't know the name of.

“You can't say you don’t like me without trying me first.” Trevor suggested, looking directly at your face. You showed him your middle finger.

“No one wants to try you, Zegras, now fuck off,” Jack stated before sipping on the beer he stole from Luke, who was dressed as a cooking chef. Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“See, this is why Quinn’s my favorite Hughes,” he mumbled, smiling at Quinn. “Anyway, Soph knows where the heat’s at.” Pointing at himself, Zegras moved on to the girl on his right, who seemed awfully pleased to be his second option.

“Asshole.” You heard Jack mutter under his breath and you giggled, amused.

“Be nice. He’s just… in heat, I guess,” you shrugged, already used to Zegras’ comments. Every time you saw him, he had something new to add to the list. Usually, you’d tell him to fuck off, and he would.

“He’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Jack bickered, pouting like a ten-year-old child. You found it cute.

“Poor Jackie, huh?”

“Shut up, Soph.” He smiled, blue eyes bright and kind.

Now that you knew what those backflips your heart did every time you saw him smile meant, it was much harder to control them.

Confessing to Jack would break the no-strings-attached arrangement that you both had silently made. It would meant either dating him and having your happily ever after (even if you hardly believed in those) or having your heart broken (again) by a really nice guy who just wanted to fuck you.

Besides that, you were both well-known people, especially you. You remember all too well when you were at home, chilling after a concert, and you got several texts from your friends and family, regarding a bunch of pictures of Harris kissing another girl at a bus stop station. A fucking bus stop station.

The situation dragged on for months, every time you’d post something, people would mention the fact that your ex was a cheater, you had been cheated on and that somehow you deserved to get cheated on; because of the things you sang, because of the clothes you were. Just a shit show with an even shittier audience.

“Hey,” you heard Jack’s voice beside you, and you turned your head around, looking at him. “Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere,” you smiled; it didn’t reach your eyes. Jack seemed to be ready to talk back when a girl— brunette with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen— threw herself at his lap.

“Jackieeee.” She whined, kissing his cheek. “I missed you.”

You could tell she was a little tipsy, but even so, it made your stomach ache anyway. That ugly, shattering feeling of feeling like less than less came back, and it was as if you could feel the narrator of your story preparing himself to repeat the same shit again. Here’s Sophia again, the girl who likes to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrests.

“Hi…” Jack sounded unsure, something he rarely did. You looked at Grace, and she looked right back at you. Only then you realized that basically everyone was staring at you.

“You don’t remember me?” The girl sounded like she was pouting and you cringed. She was so close to you, sitting on his lap, that her left thigh was brushing against your arm. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure to be unforgettable this time, baby.”

“Wow, I think that’s it for me,” you muttered, getting up from the couch, moving to the kitchen without looking back. You knew that you’d throw up if you did; not because of Jack and Mrs. Unforgettable, but because of the pity stares you knew people were giving you. It sucked.

You also knew that if you stayed inside the house for too long, you’d end up drunk and pissed off. And you didn’t want that. So you did the only thing that you knew would put your mind in the right place again: going to the lake.

You walked outside, feeling the cold breeze hit your face and legs and arms and— everywhere, really. You should have worn a sweatshirt, but now it was too late to go back. You’d rather turn into a popsicle than to go back there and watch that again.

Sitting on the dock, you watched the lake in front of you, listening to the sounds of insects and trees moving. It was a nice view, but probably nicer in the summer. Right now it just looked like a Criminal Minds crime scene.

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps coming from behind you. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Letting out a scream, you turned around, facing Quinn, who was wearing a pilot costume, with a scowl on your face.

“Sweet Jesus, Quinn, what the hell,” you put your hand on your barely covered chest, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you know how to, I don’t know, make noise while you walk?”

“I did that, actually, you just didn’t hear it,” he sat down beside you, handing you a Canucks sweatshirt. “Thought you’d get cold.”

You smiled, thanking him and putting it on, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup.

“Thank you, Quinn. That’s nice. Go Canucks!” You raised your hand, making a fist bump, hearing his soft chuckle beside you. You sighed. “I don’t know if you’re here to try to make me feel better or anything like that, but you don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m just here because you needed a sweater and because it’s kinda creepy to be here alone. Nothing else, I promise.”

You looked at him, once again surprised with the Hughes men. But then, they were raised by Ellen, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

You nodded, choosing not to say anything, just feeling the breeze on your face, a million thoughts in your head.

Now what? What would you even say to Jack? Hey, yeah, I know that when we started this we said that we didn’t want to fall in love but guess what! I’m in love with you.

And what would he even say to you? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like you back. He’d probably say something like yeah, you fucked up our arrangement now I’ll have to find someone else to fuck every week. You were fun, though! and move on with his life.

And you’d move on with yours, just like you did before. The thing is, you didn’t want to move on again. You spent five years into your twenties trying to move on from things and it was tiring as hell. Moving on from broken friendships? Tiring. Moving on from toxic people? Tiring. Moving on from your cheater boyfriend? Tiring and humiliating.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn throwing rocks at the lake, laughing when he couldn’t make them float like he intended to. He looked at you with that tired expression of his, and smiled back.

“Great album, by the way,” he blurted out of nowhere.

You frowned. “Thank you, I guess. Did someone leak it?”

“No,” he laughed, shortly. “Jack talked about it in our family group chat a while ago. Ma asked about you and he went on rambling about it, which was really funny. He was like, putting on his uniform before practice and recording a voice note at the same time, which he never does. And then he went full rambling about all of the songs and how shitty your ex was. Sorry about that,”

You looked at Quinn like he had grown two more heads, four more arms and five more legs. You had no idea Jack talked about your songs with his family. At all.

You wanted to ask more about it to Quinn so bad but you were kinda scared about what you were going to hear in response. Does Jack talk about me?

About you? Yeah, and a lot of other girls too.

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Yeah, Harris was a dick,”

“I liked some of his movies but now he’s banned from my watchlist forever.” Quinn announced like the statement didn’t make your heart break and mend at the same time, his tone calm and distant. “It’s good that you found something to channel your pain though. I do that a lot during my games.”

“Singing for me is like breathing. I’ve done it since I was, like, eight or even younger,” you nodded to yourself, looking at the stars above you. “This album means a lot to me, in a lot of ways. So thank you for telling me this.” You smiled, not sure if he could see it. He was also looking at the stars.

“Don’t need to say ‘thank you’. You have a gift, Sophia. I hope you know that,” he stretched himself, yawning and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I wish I could write songs but I suck at that.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve tried that already?” You smirked, fucking with him.

Or at least you thought you were, because Quinn went quiet, which confirmed your suspicions.

“What!” You looked at him, throwing your arms up. “Have you written songs before?”

“I was thirteen, okay? I just thought that maybe if I didn’t make it to the NHL, I could at least be a rapper or something.” He shrugged, again, which only made you start laughing. “I know, it’s funny. Thankfully, I made it to the NHL.”

“I don’t know, it’d be great to make a song with you,” you said, playfully, before realising something. “Oh my God, Quinn. That’s what I need!”

“What?” He smirked. “Make a song with me? I don’t think that’s a great idea—”

“No, not a song with you. Just a song. I need to write,” You nodded to yourself, getting up and fixing your skirt with your hands. “Do you think I could get a cab here? I came with Jack and I think he’s…” you bit your lip. Focus. Write the song; it will all be better. “Busy. And Grace needs to have her fun, too. She’s been working nonstop.”

“A cab? Soph, it’s like midnight,” he got up, too, standing in front of you. “I can take you home. It’s no biggie.”

“What? No! Enjoy the party! I’ll just try to catch an Uber or something.” You went to grab your phone, just to remember that you left it at the cabin. “Ugh, fuck, I need to go inside again.”

“I will take you home, no need for Ubers or anything like that. Just tell me where your things are and I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll talk to Grace on my way there.” He affirmed, walking with you towards the cabin, the loud music slowly filling up your ears again.

“That’s… so nice,” you breathed, more grateful than you’d like to admit. “Thank you, Quinn, seriously. I owe you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “Wait a second here, please.”

You did, and it wasn’t long until he showed up with your backpack, your phone and a very worried Grace beside him.

“Girl, what the hell?” She yelled, probably not even realizing how loud she sounded. “I’ve been looking for you like crazy and out of nowhere Quinn shows up with your stuff, saying he will get you home.”

“I have to write a song.” You reasoned, raising your shoulders.

Grace stared at you for what felt like forever, until she pressed her lips on your forehead and sighed. “Alright. I’m not even going to ask. Be safe, please, and remember that I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you, I love you.” You kissed her back, following Quinn on the way to his car, not bothering to look back.

Jack was probably busy anyway.

— ♡

HANDS around the guitar, you replayed the same melody you’ve been playing for five hours straight now.

You arrived home at one thirty in the morning, and even though you were awfully tired, you had to get the lyrics, the feelings, the emotions out of you. Fuck sleeping.

You offered your guest room for Quinn but he just shook his head, saying that he’d crash at his parents’. You made him call you when he arrived there so you knew he was safe, which he promptly did.

After that, you made yourself tea and sat in your home studio, writing obsessively. It had been a long time since the last time you had a song practically written in your head, and honestly, you couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

What you knew, though, is that now, five hours later, seven a.m. in the morning, you had a song. Bad for Business. You sent it to your producer and Grace before laying on your bed and drifting away immediately, the exhaustion taking over you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #jack hughes smut #IYLMLMK

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