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n0tamused · 4 months

Note

Jiyaaaan request coming your way~

While training his soldiers, one of them accidentally calls him 'Dad'. This leads to the reader teasing them but Jiyan teases back by calling them 'Mom' (or the gender neutral for it?)

(Was reading tv tropes and Jiyan had the 'A Father to his Men' tropes in his character tab lol)

A/n: Anon this request was so sweet, thank you sm for sending it in! Jiyan the father of an army fr.. I do hope I executed it well. Enjoy!

Content: Jiyan x F!Reader, fluff and playful stuff, nothing more

The morning sun had long since shifted its axis towards the center of the sky, blazing down through cotton clouds that sailed the azure skies. Below them, in the open fields, west of the main base cacophony sounded, consisting of commands, groans and other sounds of effort as the Midnight Ranger performed their training. And today Jiyan had come to overlook the session himself, although it wouldn’t be the first time. He was often so preoccupied with tasks at the front lines that he didn’t have the time to be leading drills too frequently, but when he did get the chance to do so he would take it. While it wasn’t a full reprieve from the battle, it was still a stark contrast to the grotesque and twisted fates he’d see daily on the battlefield.

Jiyan was noticeably more disheveled by the end, hair messy and hanging in strands and clinging to his sweaty forehead, hands on his hips as his voice rose to meet all ears present. You have just been passing by, helping carry supplies that just came in, and loading old and empty boxes back to be refilled in the city. For once there was no rush that would make your legs ache or your lungs hurt, allowing you all the precious time to bask in the views, the soft chatter and, of course, your dear lover.

The sun caught his figure and formed a golden aura around him, his skin glistening, and you couldn’t help but take a seat at one of many big boxes at the side of the training grounds after you had finished your task. In passing you caught a few looks, and a few smiles of the soldiers you knew from before. They looked much more lively, despite the rigorous training they just went through. It made your heart warm seeing them in better spirits, wishing nothing more than to see them prevail and be happy. And just as you had recognized a bunch of familiar faces did Jiyan conclude his small speech, about to dismiss everyone with advice of rest hanging on every word. He had spotted you from the start, when you were going by with supplies in arms and soon he’d have a chance to speak to you too, he thought.

“General Jiyan! General Jiyan, a word or two- if I may?”

It was a voice of one of the new recruits, Jiyan noted as he gazed at the face of the youth, a boy of twenty or so years by the looks of it, and eyes full of curiosity and admiration. He had come up to Jiyan just as he had turned towards you, prompting him to stay rooted in his spot a little longer. A few more young rangers came up behind the recruit, sharing the same curiosity but also being aware of whatever the recruit had on his mind.

“Yes? Is there something you need?” Jiyan questioned, looking at the young man. From his peripheral vision he spotted you moving down from the boxes and joining his side, staying quiet after a short word of greeting towards his Rangers, but your presence felt like a cool breeze under this sun, and he appreciated it all the more.

“I just wanted to say how great today’s training session was, we learned so much more than we did with our drill sergeant” he praised, smiling up at Jiyan all the while, “And I just wanted to ask whether or not you’ll be leading our training session tomorrow as well? Or any other day that is, we would really benefit from your teaching. I mean, you've seen it all for yourself at the front lines!"

The other few with him nodded along, prompting a small smile of pride to form on your face from seeing their fascination with Jiyan. To them he was everything they aspired to be - strong, enduring, tough but not lacking kindness or knowledge. There were times where they were scared to approach him, not knowing how he’d react to their questions, but from observing his interactions with others they warmed up to the idea and plucked all their courage.

A polite smile curled up on Jiyan’s face as he regarded the youth with gentle golden eyes. His presence as the drill sergeant today wasn’t due to his availability, but a simple coincidence and necessity to fill the shoes of their drill sergeant that had been injured due to Tacet Discords, and Jiyan just happened to be able to be there. “Ah, you have my thanks, rangers. If a replacement for your drill sergeant does not arrive tomorrow and I am not required to be at the front lines, then I will be leading your training tomorrow as well” he told them, which pleased them greatly to hear. “Although I’m sure Sargent Jin’xi has much more to teach you, something much more important for your sound development in this profession. You cannot take his method lightly. He has seen everything I have, as well. His knowledge is as valuable to your growth, and even more so than mine. You need the good foundation he can give you” He was aware of how confusing or hard it could be to listen to Jin’xi, as the sergeant had quite the eye for details and slow progress in lessons due to his meticulous nature - but that also made him all the better for his station. He was observant and could pluck out bad behavior and mistakes like weeds, and that is better to be done here, than in the middle of battle.

“We know, general, but sergeant Jin’xi is just so hard on us.. sometimes it really seems like he has no limit” one of the women standing behind voiced, earning a look from Jiyan that spoke of his understanding but also his disagreement with the subtle message they were trying to send - please, replace sergeant Jin’xi, or, save us.

“Yeah! One time I accidentally mixed up the weapons in the storage room and he had me do everything on my own again, saying how such mistakes can’t happen on the front lines, how it all means life or death” the first young man said, brushing his fingers through his hair and sighing. “I understand it, but we just got here..” he added and looked at his comrades.

What was supposed to be a short chit-chat turned swiftly into a gossip galore about Jin’xi. Had Jiyan been any different from the man he was currently, he would’ve scolded them, taken offense at how they spoke about his colleague, but he was in their shoes once, always on edge around the higher ups, and he wished not to bring that same unease to them. He didn’t fail to remind them to not speak like this in front of everyone, and to respect sergeant Jin’xi when he does eventually return, and they gave him their word.

The first young man that approached looked at Jiyan after their discussion, both hands on his hips and looking more relaxed. “We won’t forget that, I promise on my last name! Still, we appreciate your kindness, and one more thing dad- I MEAN- GENERAL!” His entire face crumbled into a look of terror, and all eyes of the group shot to him, looks of surprise and amusement appearing before several of them erupted into laughter after taking a wary glance at Jiyan - who was not offended.

“General Jiyan! Oh god- I apologize, general, I don’t know where that came from-” he stammered, shaking his head and his hands, face flushed from sheer embarrassment. More choked words tumbled out of his mouth, desperate to excuse himself and forget about this.

Jiyan can’t help but chuckle, the corners of his lips twitching in a failed attempt to hold back his smile. “At ease, recruit. You have not done any crime” he nods at the other, his eyes softening and not showing any sign that he’s about to dish out some punishment - that’d be ridiculous.

You can’t help but crack a laugh too, covering your lips with your hand as to stifle the sound, but your mirth was evident in your eyes. “Have I missed a chapter? I didn’t know you had kids, general Jiyan” you teased, earning a few shocked but heavily amused looks from the group. Giggles erupted once more, all stifled as they waited for Jiyan to respond to the quip.

Jiyan turns his head to look at you, his eyes boring into yours and questioning your intentions - you can read the thoughts going through your head and your smile only widens in a silent call to a challenge of wits. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, but he could only huff, hiding his amusement under an abrupt guise of confusion.

“Kids?.. Why, I had hoped you’d recognize your own kids, Miss (L/N)” he shot back instantly, making your jaw drop at his rebuttal, a gasp flying past your mouth. “General” you said, accusations plenty heard in your tone as the atmosphere melted into one of jest and play.

Many eyes flickered between you and him, taking in the easy way you conversed with one another.

“Yes? What’s the surprise for? The recruits look up to you too, if you fail to notice. You can confirm with them right now” he is shifting the spotlight to you, and the recruits are quick to jump in too. “It is right, miss. Personally I haven’t been around you for long, no longer than I interacted with the General, but you two are alike, you treat us new ones with a firm but kind hand” a young woman said, smiling at you, and you feel your heart climb into your throat.

“Can we really be surprised, they’re always together too-” "Aren't they married?" Whispering is heard amidst the group, and Jiyan looks amidst the faces to catch the one that said that but fails to do so, or refuses to weed out the individuals, and his eyes go back to you to catch your response. It’d be a lie to say your relationship with him was a secret, everyone knew there was something deeper between the two of you, something you didn’t show in public due to the war and status, but it was undeniably there. Still, hearing it loud and clear like this was like a splash of cold water. Despite their chatter, the group remained respectful, sweet in their musings.

“Ah, quiet, I do not want to hear it. This is about you, General”

“Ah, don’t run from it now. You’re the one that started this” he commented, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest. “Anyway, you’re all dismissed. I have a word with.. mother over here. Off you all go. I will see you all in the morning for another training drill. Get some rest” he speaks to the group, gazing upon their faces, only to see how they looked at him with some sort of childhood wonder, and that’s when he realized he must be flushed too. A sheepish smile bloomed on his face.

“Alright! Awesome-” “Yes, sir!"

“Have a good day, General! And you too, Miss!”

He watched them leave, bidding them all farewell, and when he turned to face you again he saw you pinching the bridge of your nose, hiding away the biggest smile of the day, the apples of your cheeks redder than before. The Midnight Rangers were undeniably close in connection, having spent so many nights and days huddled together for warmth or laughs or protection, and this small exchange only warmed Jiyan’s heart, to witness how positively they felt around him - and you.

“Didn’t think we’d become parents so soon. Have we gotten that old already?” Jiyan commented, tone softer in a way he only addressed you when you were alone, and there was no one near the training grounds to hear you.

“Oh, shut up, Jiyan-” you playfully snapped, biting your lip as you looked up at him, stifling a giggle. “You are unbelievable!”

“Hm? Did you expect me to stay quiet today or ignore your quips?” he smiled bigger and you have to admire the little dimples in his cheeks as the smile reaches his eyes, making them squint at you softly.

“I don’t know what I expected, but your response was certainly the last thing I expected” you replied and shook your head, as if that would shake off the redness tinting your skin, imitating him now by crossing your arms. The two of you were looking at each other, wordlessly admiring your red faces while throwing these little quips at one another.

“Ah.. you’ll get used to it, dearest wife”

#-dragon.treasure #Jiyan #Jiyan x reader #Jiyan x you #Jiyan x y/n #jiyan x rover #jiyan imagine #jiyan fluff #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x female reader #jiyan x female rader #wuwa x reader #wuwa #wuwa x you #wuwa imagine #wuwa fluff #wuthering waves x y/n

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iicehoon · 5 months

Text

LEVEL UP | STREAMER!SOOBIN X READER

︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

"NO NO NO NO," you heard your boyfriend, Soobin, yell in despair.

Glancing at the Snoopy-themed clock, it read 2:30 AM, marking five hours since he started streaming. You recalled his excitement about being sponsored by the game, hoping for future offers if it goes well.

Rising from your spot on the shared bed, you crossed the dimly lit hall to quietly open the door to his room. He remained intensely focused on the screen, the soft clicks of his mechanical keyboard echoing as you entered. Frustrated sighs followed each demise of his character on screen.

"Chat, you don't understand," he started, setting aside his keyboard and mouse. "No username, I am not taking backseat gaming or any advice from you. The last time I did that, it made me restart the ENTIRE game."

You chuckled softly, watching your boyfriend ruffle his hair in frustration. His slouched shoulders hinted that he was nearing his breaking point and pretty ready to end the stream.

"Binnie," you called out, settling into the beanbag adjacent to his desk.

Soobin perked up instantly at the sound of his name, swiftly removing his earbuds as he rose to approach you. "When did you come in?" he asked, crouching down to your level. Leaning in, he planted a kiss on your lips before gently settling on top of you, eliciting a surprised yelp at his sudden weight.

"You've been at it for five hours, hun," you said, poking his side playfully until he squirmed and finally got up after the tenth poke.

"Come here, and I'll show you why," he motioned you over, patting his lap. His followers knew about you because he couldn't help but talk about you at times, and they have seen your face from the times you brought him snacks or a drink during his streams.

"Hi Chat," You smiled, bringing your face closer to his webcam and giving them a little wave when you settled on his lap.

"Okay," Soobin placed his chin on your shoulder and returned his hands to the keyboard and mouse. "Just watch and see why I just can't get past this stupid level."

You weren't as big of a gamer as Soobin, but you knew your way around from the games he played or even those you tried yourself from the days when he didn't want to be at his computer.

One of the perks of having a gamer boyfriend who was also a popular streamer was having access to his Steam account and his credits to buy games that piqued your interest, often discovered from TikTok.

Your eyes analyzed his movements, and you couldn't help but giggle when he dropped his head, hitting the back of your neck. "I don't understand why it's not working," he sighed in frustration.

"Well, it's because you're not hitting that when you're doing your runs," you explained, gently removing his hands from the setup in front of you. Slowly, you moved his character over to what you believed was the key element for him to pass this level. "See, it's breakable with that TNT sign on it."

You restarted the level and began to execute your run. As you played, Soobin's eyes moved back and forth between his main screen and your side profile, a lovestruck smile spreading across his face, just as his chat had claimed always happened whenever you were in his peripheral vision.

His smile widened as you cheered, successfully passing the level he had spent the majority of his time on. "Wait, babe, you're crazy good," he exclaimed, his jaw-dropping in amazement at the winning transition.

"I'm just better than you, Soobie boobie" you teased, twisting slightly to face him and sticking out your tongue.

He shook his head, laughing, and wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, giving you a quick peck on your cheek.

His joyful expression quickly shifted to one of furrowed eyebrows as he read his chat.

"Chat, she IS NOT replacing me," he groaned, "And stop asking if she's single. I'll literally make out with her right here, right now."

an | there is no specific game I'm referencing, I couldn't really think of one but if anyone has an idea, I can make it for another one!

#kpop #iicehoon #iicehoon writes #kpop drabbles #kpop imagines #tomorrow x together #txt #txt post #soobin scenarios #soobie boobie #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin fluff #soobin imagines #txt drabbles #txt imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic

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kentobb · 3 months

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The Bet

Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Suggestive (in MeiMei’s part)

Author’s note: Look… I miss the wattpad kind of stories, ok?

Part 02 Part 03 Part 04 Part 05 Part 06 Part 07 Part 08

Ryomen Sukuna is a force of nature on the basketball court, his movements precise and powerful, each play calculated and executed with ruthless efficiency. His reputation as one of the most popular guys in college was well-earned, not just for his athletic prowess but also for his charisma and the magnetic presence that drew people to him. His imposing stature, marked by a lithe, muscular frame and a face that seemed perpetually set in a mix of boredom and amusement, only added to his allure. Yet beneath the surface, Sukuna a man of dualities, balancing his athletic pursuits with a rigorous academic schedule as a finance major, preparing to take over his father's sprawling business empire alongside his brothers, Choso and Yuuji.

As Sukuna settled into his seat for one of his finance classes, he glanced around the room, searching for his usual group of friends, the "bros" he did most of his projects with. His gaze fell on Professor Amano, who was already launching into a monologue about the importance of collaboration and real-world application. Sukuna's attention drifted, his mind wandering to the next basketball game, the next strategy meeting with his brothers. It wasn't until Professor Amano's voice sharpened with the announcement of assigned partners for the upcoming project that Sukuna snapped back to attention.

"Ryomen Sukuna," the professor's voice rang out, "you'll be working with Y/N.”

A collective murmur rippled through the room. Sukuna's eyes narrowed as he scanned the rows of desks. Y/N. The name was vaguely familiar, but not in the way his friends names were. Then he spotted you: a quiet girl sitting near the back, partially hidden and a stack of books that seemed almost as tall as you were.

You were the type of person Sukuna had always dismissed as unimportant, background noise in the cacophony of his life. He had seen you in the library, absorbed in your studies, nose buried in books while he and his friends joked and laughed nearby. He had noticed you walking alone on campus, steps light and your eyes focused on some distant point, lost in your own world. You were like a ghost, drifting through the peripheries of his vision, never drawing enough attention to warrant a second glance.

Now, you are his partner.

Suppressing a groan, Sukuna stood and made his way to the back of the room. As he approached, you looked up, your eyes wide and slightly wary. You were plain, in an understated way, with large, expressive eyes and a delicate frame that seemed almost fragile. There was a quiet intensity about you, a depth that Sukuna couldn't quite place but found himself intrigued by despite himself.

He continued walking towards you, still observing. You were different, that much was clear. As he got closer, he realized he had been staring.

Your doe-like eyes meeting his, wide and a bit startled.

Sukuna quickly tried to play it off. "Uh, you have something on your forehead."

Your eyes widened in embarrassment, and you immediately started brushing at your forehead, clearly flustered. "Oh, um, did I get it?"

Sukuna smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're good."

He sat down across from you, still amused by your reaction. "What's your name?"

"Y/N…” you replied, your voice soft but clear.

"I'm Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna," he said, expecting a flicker of recognition or at least some reaction to his name. Instead, you simply nodded and immediately pulled out the project guidelines.

"So, for our project," you began, "I was thinking we could analyze a smaller company. It might be easier to get detailed information and understand their financial strategies."

Sukuna was momentarily taken aback. You weren’t flustered by him? Nor was trying to impress him?

You went straight to the point, focused entirely on the task at hand. It was... unexpected. He had anticipated some level of interest or at least the usual star-struck reaction he got from most girls. Instead, you seemed almost indifferent, entirely engrossed in the project.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he finally said, shaking off his surprise. "That sounds like a solid plan."

You nodded, jotting down notes. "Great. We should meet up in the library later to start gathering resources and outline our approach."

As you continued discussing the project, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a bit disoriented. You, Y/N, weren’t what he had expected at all. You are focused, determined, and completely unfazed by him. And for the first time in a long time, Sukuna finds himself intrigued by someone who seemed entirely uninterested in his popularity.

You both arranged to meet later that day in the library. As Sukuna made his way through the bustling campus, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. There was something about your quiet intensity that piqued his curiosity. You weren’t trying to impress him or win his favor; you were just yourself, unapologetically so.

The library was quieter than usual when he arrived, the hushed atmosphere creating a stark contrast to the lively campus outside. He spotted you at a table near the back, already surrounded by a stack of books and your laptop. You were scribbling furiously in a notebook, your brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," Sukuna greeted, taking a seat across from you.

You looked up briefly and nodded. "Hi. I found a few resources that might be useful for our project. Here, take a look."

You pushed a few books and articles towards him, your demeanor completely professional. Sukuna took the materials, flipping through them as he tried to shake off the odd sense of disorientation he felt around you.

"So," he said, trying to make conversation, "how come I haven't seen you around much before?"

You shrugged, your eyes still on your notes. "I- I don’t know. I’m always here studying…”

Sukuna nodded, not entirely surprised. "Makes sense. You seem pretty focused..."

"I try to be," you replied, finally looking up at him. "I want to make sure we do well on this project."

Sukuna found himself studying your face again, noticing the subtle determination in your eyes. "You're really serious about this, huh?"

"Of course," you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "A good grade on this project could make a big difference."

He couldn't help but be impressed by your dedication. Most people he knew, himself included, didn't approach their studies with this level of seriousness. "Yeah, I get that," he said. "I guess I should thank you for keeping us on track."

Your lips quirked into a small smile. "Just doing my part."

As you continued speaking about the project, your voice steady and full of conviction, Sukuna found his mind drifting. He watched you, taking in the details he hadn't noticed before. Your long sleeves hid your arms completely, the oversized sweater hanging loosely on your frame. Your long pants and well-worn Converse sneakers added to the effect, making you seem almost invisible. He could barely see your body, save for the slender column of your neck. It was almost like you didn’t want to be seen.

Your words flowed smoothly as you outlined the plan, your eyes lighting up with enthusiasm whenever you discussed a particularly interesting point. But Sukuna focus was divided. Part of him was listening to you talk about financial strategies and analysis, but another part was trying to read you, to understand why someone would go to such lengths to remain unnoticed.

Your eyes flicked to him occasionally, as if checking to make sure he was following along, but you didn't seem to notice his distracted gaze. Your hands moved animatedly as you talked, slender fingers tapping on the table for emphasis. You were clearly passionate about the project, but Sukuna couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more of you than this quiet, studious exterior.

Finally, you wrapped up the discussion. You gathered your things, slipping your notebook and pens into a well-worn backpack. "So, we’ll meet tomorrow afternoon to start compiling our research?" You confirmed, looking at him expectantly.

"Yeah, sounds good," Sukuna replied, forcing his attention back to the project. "I'll see you then.

Sukuna stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. A few of his friends called out to him, waving him over to join their conversation, but he found himself hesitating. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about the way you seemed to fade into the background while holding so much within you.

He had always been surrounded by people, his life filled with noise and activity. But now, watching you walk away, he felt a strange pull towards the quietness you embodied. You were like a puzzle, each piece hidden beneath layers of oversized clothes and a reserved demeanor, and he found himself wanting to understand you more.

As he made his way out of the library he saw you turn the corner towards the dorms. He could have followed you, but he held back, respecting your space for now. There would be plenty of time to learn more about you as you worked on the project together.

The weekend arrived, and Sukuna's apartment transformed into the campus hotspot. The music blasted from the speakers, and the pulsating beat seemed to resonate through the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the living room was crowded with students dancing, talking, and enjoying themselves. Sukuna, typically at the center of it all, found himself drifting to the edges, his eyes scanning the room for one particular face: You.

He wove through the throng of people, nodding and smiling at familiar faces, but he couldn't spot you anywhere. He paused by the kitchen, grabbing a drink and leaning against the counter, lost in thought. Did you not know you were invited? Everyone on campus knew about the party; word had spread like wildfire. But then again, this wasn't really your scene. The loud music, the throngs of people – it was the complete opposite of the quiet, studious environment you preferred.

As he pondered this, Mei Mei, the cheerleader captain, caught his eye. She was standing with a group of friends, but her gaze was locked on him. Her confident smile and flirtatious look were unmistakable. She sauntered over, her hips swaying with each step, and leaned against the counter next to him.

"Hey, Suku" she purred, her voice barely audible over the music. "Having fun?"

"Always," he replied with a smirk. "What about you?"

"Oh, you know me," she said, leaning closer. "I always find a way to have fun."

They exchanged a few more words, the conversation laced with flirtation. Mei Mei leaned in, murmuring something in his ear that made him chuckle. He knew exactly where this was heading. With a smirk, he took her hand and led her through the crowd towards his room.

As they made their way through the party, Sukuna's thoughts momentarily drifted back to you. But why? Why you? You’re just… a random girl he is working a project with. He just had hoped you might step out of the comfort zone and show up, even if just for a little while. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t your vibe. The library, with its hushed tones and stacks of books, was more your speed.

When they reached his room, he closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise and chaos of the party. His mind focused on the present moment, and he let himself be distracted by Mei Mei, at least for a little while.

Hours later, as the party continued to rage on outside, Sukuna found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Mei Mei was already asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady. Despite the noise and the energy still buzzing through his apartment.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of parties, hangovers, and half-hearted attempts at studying. Sukuna couldn't help but wonder what you had been doing instead. Studying, probably. Or maybe you had spent time at the library, like you mentioned during your conversation. The thought of you enjoying a quiet, serene day by the library brought a small smile on his face.

Monday rolled around, and the campus was abuzz with talk of his party. Everyone was raving about how wild it had been, and people were already asking when the next one would be. Sukuna nodded along, playing the part of the cool, popular guy, but his mind was elsewhere.

When he entered the classroom, he immediately spotted you in your own usual seat at the back. Already engrossed in your notes, completely oblivious to the buzz of conversation around you. Sukuna frowned slightly, realizing he hadn’t seen you at the party. He wondered if you hadn’t known about it or if you had simply chosen not to come. It seemed like everyone had been invited, after all.

Sukuna made his way over to her and dropped into the seat next to her. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice still a bit rough from the weekend.

You looked up, blinking in surprise. “Hi,” you replied, then immediately started pulling out your notes and materials for the project.

You launched into a detailed explanation of the research you had gathered, focus entirely on the task at hand. You talked about financial strategies and market analysis, not once veering into anything personal. It was as if the wild weekend and his social status didn’t exist in your world. This bothered Sukuna more than he cared to admit.

“Hey, I didn’t see you at my party,” Sukuna interjected, cutting you off mid-sentence.

You looked at him, expression neutral. “That’s not really my scene.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Not your scene? What’s your vibe then?”

You paused, your eyes drifting away for a moment, wondering why the famous and popular Sukuna took interest in that fact. “I guess… not that?”

Sukuna stared at you, completely bewildered. “Uh...perhaps you should try it?”

You shrugged, your demeanor calm and collected. “No, but thanks Sukuna.” You smiled, “I’ve finished my part of the project. I just need your input so we can compile everything.”

Sukuna nodded, still trying to process your turn down. “Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll get my stuff together.”

Sukuna headed to basketball practice. The gym was alive with the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the thud of the ball hitting the ground, and the chatter of his teammates. As he entered the locker room, he could hear them talking about the weekend and other random stuff.

"Man, that party was insane," Geto said, shaking his head as he laced up his sneakers.

"Yeah, still can't believe you drank that whole keg, Geto," Todo added, giving Geto a playful shove.

Geto grinned, rubbing his head sheepishly. "What can I say? I was thirsty!"

As Sukuna joined them, Geto looked up and smirked. "Hey, Sukuna. How's that project going? Heard you didn't get paired with Nanami this time."

The rest of the team burst into laughter, enjoying the ribbing. Sukuna rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, yeah. I got stuck with the nerd."

Gojo, ever the instigator, leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet behind all those big clothes, there's someone hot."

The group fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter and wild speculation. "Yeah, she could be hiding a killer body under there," Todo chimed in, winking.

"Maybe she's secretly a model," Gojo added, chuckling.

"Guys, seriously?" Sukuna groaned, but he couldn't help but laugh along with them. The whole situation was ridiculous.

Gojo, never one to let an opportunity for chaos pass by, continued to prod. "Come on, Sukuna. You like her, don't you?"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, feeling the weight of their collective gaze. "She's not my type, alright? I don't go for girls like her.”

"Oh really?" Gojo raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "I bet you can't pull her. That's some big game, and you always go for the easy ones."

The locker room erupted in laughter and shouts, the noise bouncing off the walls. Sukuna felt the pressure mounting as his teammates egged him on, their immature antics reaching new heights.

"Yeah, Sukuna, she's out of your league!" Geto teased, his face split into a wide grin.

"Sukuna's got no game!" Todo added, doubling over with laughter.

Sukuna took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "It's not that I can't pull her. I just don't see any win in that."

Gojo's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer. "Alright, how about this: I bet you a hundred bucks you can't hook up with her."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Now we're talking."

The locker room exploded with cheers and laughter as the bet was made. Sukuna felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. He couldn't back down now, not with everyone watching.

As he walked into the classroom, he spotted you in your usual seat, your nose buried in a book. He felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He approached you and sat down next to you, greeting you with a casual, "Hey."

You looked up, offering him a polite smile. "Hi."

He needed to think of something, anything and— “I was wondering if you could help me with my part of the project,” he said, trying to sound casual.

You blinked, clearly surprised by the request. “Sure. What do you need help with?”

“I’m a bit stuck on the research,” he lied, hoping you would buy it. “I was thinking maybe we could meet up later to work on it.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “We can meet at the library.”

Sukuna cursed inwardly but kept his cool. “Yeah, the library sounds good. What time?”

“How about five?” she suggested.

“Perfect,” he replied, smiling. “See you then.”

Class went on, and Sukuna could barely concentrate. He glanced at you every now and then, wondering how he was going to pull this off. You were like a fortress, and he needed a battering ram.

After class, Sukuna walked out, trying to shake off the morning’s frustration. He spotted Gojo leaning against a wall, smirking as he saw you walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Sukuna!” Gojo called out, a wide grin plastered on his face. “How’s the project with Miss Goodie two shoes going?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “It’s going fine, Gojo.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, glancing at your retreating figure. “Sure looks like it. She’s practically sprinting away from you.”

The other guys from the team started gathering around, sensing another opportunity to roast Sukuna.

“What’s the matter, Sukuna? Did she turn you down for a study date?” Todo asked, laughing.

Sukuna sighed. “We’re meeting at the library.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Oh, the library! How romantic. Did she at least agree to sit next to you?”

The guys burst into laughter, and Sukuna couldn’t help but smile despite himself. “You’re all idiots.”

Gojo clapped Sukuna on the back. “Come on, man. You’ve got to step up your game. Maybe try actually talking to her instead of just staring like a creep.”

Geto nodded, still chuckling. “Yeah, maybe bring her a coffee or something. Girls like that, right?”

Sukuna smirked, shaking his head. “Whatever, guys. You’ll see. I’ve got this.”

Gojo leaned in, lowering his voice but making sure everyone could still hear. “You know, if you actually manage to pull this off, I’ll be impressed. But until then, you’re just the guy who got turned down for a library date.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, and Sukuna couldn’t help but laugh along. It was all in good fun, but he felt a renewed determination. He was going to win this bet, not just for the money, but to prove he could do it.

#jjk #jjk angst #jjk fluff #college sukuna #jjk sukuna #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #angst #jujutsu kaisen

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sister-lucifer · 1 year

Note

can we get gross pervy dom toby content 🙏

Some Gross Pervy Dom Toby Content

Toby Rogers x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: NSFW

Summary: There is really no plot to be summarized, Toby’s just a horndog and he chased you down. good fuckin luck

Content/Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements, implied stalking, horror elements, Toby being creepy, Toby smells you and touches you in the weirdest manner you can possibly imagine, NSFW with minimal (mostly implied) plot, no real sex happens just fucked up shit, no seriously this is nasty as fuck i’m getting put on a list for this

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Just to avoid confusion, in my headcanon Toby has a stutter as well as but separate from his tourette’s; i’m writing his stutter, not his tics! thankies!

also READ THE FUCKING WARNINGS THIS ONE IS NASTY

Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun would fill you with less dread than staring up at the lanky boy who’s currently towering over you.

You don’t have to look at him to know there’s a twisted smile filled with crooked, chipped teeth spread across his face, hazel eyes scrunched at the corners as he grins like a madman. You don’t want to look at him, really, but you can’t stop yourself before you’re slowly craning your neck to see. Slowly his face comes into view, and it’s even more unsettling than you could prepare for.

His messy brown hair flicks up in all directions and partly obscures his eyes, and yet they seem to glow in the dim light of the sunset. One of his arms is above you, folded against the wall, while the other cages you into the corner. Besides his fingers drumming restlessly, he’s not moving, but his entire body is trembling with….excitement? His chest is heaving like he’s struggling to breathe, and the uncomfortable feeling of his warm exhale fanning over your face makes you shudder, and…oh god, is he drooling over you? Shit—

You press yourself hard against the wall, face burning hot against the cool air of the drafty abandoned building. Something tells you you shouldn’t take your eyes off of him for too long, but in your peripheral vision you can see through the broken windows. There’s nothing but trees in all directions, and the sky is rapidly darkening with each passing second. You’re watching any chance you had of escaping in the daylight slip from your fingers. Everything is becoming much too disorienting much too fast, thoughts racing and overlapping and screaming at you to do something, but you can’t. All at once you’re trying to figure out an escape plan, how to appease your captor for long enough to execute an escape plan, and how you even got here in the first place.

The last thing you remember is running from him, the branches of the thicket grabbing at your pants and arms as if trying to hold you back. You had no choice but to run into the old hospital, but now you’re wishing you’d simply kept going.

You must’ve moved too much for Toby’s liking, because he suddenly grabs onto your arm with a grip that feels strong enough to snap the bone in two. You yelp in pain, a second gloved hand quickly clamping over your mouth. The echo of your cry rings loud in your ears, and for a moment you wonder if it’ll ever go quiet again.

“You…you…” Toby stutters, and your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting to hear, but he just sounds so…normal, like any other nineteen year old boy, except if it were anyone else in any other scenario a mere couple of syllables wouldn’t strike such fear into you.

“You ran a loooong t-time…” He scolds, but his grin doesn’t falter. He brings his hand away from your mouth to shake a finger at you, seemingly trusting you not to scream.

Not like it would matter. You made him chase you pretty far in.

In an instant his hands are on your waist, slipping under your shirt and eagerly grabbing at the soft flesh he finds beneath. You have to bite your tongue to hold back another yelp.

“Oh, ooohh but it w-was worth it!” Toby slurs with a drawl, “I’ve f-finally fooouund yooouu, aha…”

He sounds so proud of himself. Something about his tone is almost childish, deceivingly so. He truly thinks he’s done something amazing.

Your heart skips a beat when he suddenly freezes, face going void of all emotion, and you wonder if you’ve truly angered him. If you did, would that be the mistake that ended it all?

Fortunately, it seems he was just changing gears. You panic when you realize he’s leaning in towards you, but he moves past your face to practically bury his nose in your neck, taking a long and deep breath. He lets out a faint laugh as he breathes out, and it feels like a horrible sensation crawling down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab onto his arms, nails digging into the dirty and worn fabric of his hoodie. It’s practically caked with dried mud in some areas and you can feel the dry cracking beneath your hands.

“I m-missed your…your s-smell…” Toby whispers. You’re confused for a moment, and it takes a few seconds for it all to set in.

‘Missed?’

He’d…smelled you before?

He ‘missed’ you…

“I-I should have…should have visited m-more…I-I got ssso busy, b-but I didn’t forget you, I-I promise…”

He keeps talking, but it starts to fade out. Only a few words matter, anyways.

There’s an incredibly brief moment of clarity that flashes through your mind, a split second flicker of understanding that you hadn’t just been misplacing or losing things, that you weren’t imagining all those noises or shadows that you told yourself were childish things to be afraid of, and it nearly floods your brain before it disappears as quickly as it appeared. Maybe you purposefully pushed it out, at least for now. There was too much going on to process the past. If you were lucky enough to get out of this alive, you could reflect then.

You’re frozen for a few moments as Toby’s idle hands begin to wander, as they always do. He’s at least considerate enough to feel you up through your clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking in a harsh breath through your teeth when he roughly gropes your ass. It forces you to push yourself into him as you try to get away from the aggressive grip. You can feel him laugh with his chest pressed flush against yours.

He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, and it’s become painfully obvious that he’s much stronger than he looks. You’d never expect someone so skinny to be able to manhandle you like this.

He sways slowly from side to side as he holds you, one unsteady hand toying with your hair in a gesture that, on Toby’s end, seems as though it is meant to be sincere.

“Th-There’s so much I want t-to do to y— to do with y-you…so little time…” He goes on muttering to himself over something or other, but you can’t understand him as he trails off.

He seems preoccupied with his own thoughts, distracted enough that you begin to squirm. He doesn’t react, continuing to quietly rant about nothing while stroking your head. You struggle again, a bit bolder this time. Nothing.

Maybe you actually had a chance, you just had to slip away. Hell, maybe you’d get lucky and run the right way on the first try; for all you know you’re only a mile away from a highway, that could be your lifeline. You just had to slip away—

“Stop it! Stop doing that!”

…Easier said than done, it seems.

Hearing Toby yell, seemingly allowing a genuine flash of anger to overtake him as he slams you back against the wall, chills you to the core. He was unpredictable, bouncing back and forth between the extremes of whatever emotion he was feeling, making it impossible to plan around his potential actions.

His hand splays out across your chest to keep you pinned to the wall. He’s applying much more pressure than he needs to, and he knows it. His smile twitches as you struggle to recover from having the wind knocked out of you.

When he reaches back for his pocket, you expect him to pull out a weapon; maybe a knife, or even a small handgun you somehow hadn’t noticed.

But no. He returns with something much smaller, and your brows furrow in confusion as you struggle to make out the shape among the shadows that have quickly taken over your space.

“What’s t-the matter?” Toby asks, “Never seen a-a condom before?”

He snickers cruelly at the way your mouth hangs open in reply.

“Whaaaat? I-I’m trying to be nice…don’t be a bitch.”

“N…Nice?!” You choke out in reply, and this time Toby’s jaw drops.

“Oh, it does speak!” He exclaims with genuine excitement. “Good, good…s-so good…”

He holds the corner of the wrapper in his mouth so that his hand can be free to fumble with his belt. The sound of the buckle clanking as he slips it off makes your stomach flip. Your gaze flicks quickly back and forth from his pants back to his eyes, and he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You haven’t even seen him blink.

His tongue runs over his glistening teeth as he prepares to speak again:

“I h-hope you squeal for me, pretty thing…When we’re done here, I’m t-takin’ you with me…”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta headcanon #gender neutral reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby smut #ticci toby #toby rogers

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em-ontv · 1 month

Text

If I can’t have you.

Pairing: Homelander x fem!reader (who's a member of The Boys)

Summary: he’s obsessed with something he can’t have. And you just so happen to show up at a little Vought party.

Warnings: Homelander himself is a warning, language/profanities, mentions of violence, psycho behavior, a bit of stalking?, bits of obsessive behavior, use of y/n

Author's note: After weeks of hiding under a rock, I have returned with this little fic. Just a random thought, Homelander may be ooc, I don't know, I tried my best, I've only seen a few episodes of the show. Anyways, enjoy. English isn't my first language, there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 789

———————————————————————————

You weren't supposed to be there. Not at a Vought party, not at this swanky corporate party with its champagne flutes, fancy lighting from the chandeliers, and a thousand faces that were too smug for their own good. But there you were, playing the role of a nobody, trying to blend in with the crowd. The plan from Butcher was easy — get in, get out, no problems.

But then he noticed you.

Homelander.

The Golden Boy. America's fucking sweetheart. The poster child of Vought International's entire empire. He was everything you despised, everything you were working with The Boys to bring down. You knew what he was behind the flashing lights and the cameras, the bodies he had left behind without so much as a second thought. He was a ticking time bomb, dressed up in red, white, and blue. But you didn't expect him to even look your way.

It started with a file. A damn file. Some low-level paper pusher at Vought had flagged you as a person of interest — seeing your connection with The Boys. Homelander caught wind of it somehow, maybe during one of his scans to sniff out a threat, or maybe he was just bored enough to pry where he shouldn't have. And then, there it was — your face, plastered on the screen. Something about you caught his eye. You didn't look scared. You looked defiant.

That pissed him off. But it also intrigued him. So, he started watching.

At first, it was just a curiosity, a passing interest. But then it grew, and festered. He started to check in on you more and more, looking through cameras, or, fuck, his x-ray vision, flying over the city to catch sight of you. It became a sick little game for him — seeing how close he could get without you noticing, and you didn't. He'd watch you walk down the street, watch you with Butcher and his merry band of assholes, watch you when you were alone. It was thrilling for him, intoxicating, even, to know that someone like you, someone who should be terrified, was living their life so... boldly.

And that's when it became an obsession. You were something he couldn't control, something he couldn't have. And that made him want you even more.

Which is why, when you crashed Vought's little party, you felt a pair of eyes on you the moment you stepped foot into the building. You knew something was wrong, you felt it. It made your stomach churn, as if it was a warning that told you to run. But you couldn't. You had a job to do, information to gather. And you knew that Homelander wouldn't dare to make a scene at a party that was hosted for him. Not here, not now.

But then you bumped into him.

Literally.

One second you were standing beside a door, trying to catch a few whispered words between the executives, acting casual. And the next, you were backing up right into the problem itself, quickly turning around and meeting the eyes that could burn holes through your skull or melt you into a literal puddle.

"Whoops," Homelander said, with that infuriating, perfectly rehearsed smile plastered across his face, as if he wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room. "Well, what do we have here? A little spy, sneaking around my party?" he hummed, his voice low, just for you.

"Oh, no. Just someone who’s enjoying the party like everyone else is, nothing special." you said, your voice steady, although you were absolutely fucking lost inside.

"Standing close to that door won't do you any good. Why don't you come with me?" his hand reached out, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you fought the urge to flinch.

His eyes were piercing, searching your face like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what made you tick.

Nope. You were leaving.

He couldn't have seen through you, could he? You've never even met face to face before; how could he recognize you? Did he know that you were with Butcher?

Fuck him. Fuck Butcher. Fuck this.

"I should go. This party's been delightful." you said, giving him a smile that seemed too forced, a sour look on your face.

You turned around and quickly paced your steps to the exit, as if your lifeline was just ahead. It was. But before you could reach it—

Homelander blocked in front of you, blocked your path. The smile no longer on his face, instead, it was replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. He moved forward, one step... two steps, backing you further and further away from the exit.

"Leaving so soon... y/n?"

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander x fem!reader #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys homelander #the boys fanfic #the boys fandom #homelander fanfiction

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jgracie · 4 months

Text

THE CHEMICAL, PHYSICAL KRYPTONITE! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ what spending prom with them would look like

masterlist | rules

in which you go to prom with the love of your life

pairings percy jackson & jason grace x reader

warnings none!

on the radio . . . shut up and dance (walk the moon)

an please dont ask what possessed me to write this i just had a vision i desperately needed to execute... also i despise these so sorry in advance LMAO lmk if u want a p2 w everyone else tho sorry its only 2 chars i could not write any more atm

i. PERCY JACKSON

Going to prom with the Percy Jackson is definitely every girl’s dream, which is why you thought you had absolutely no chance

Why would he choose you, his best friend who he’s seen through all the awkward phases of elementary and middle school, when he had a plethora of cuter potential dates?

Wherever you went, people would stop you and ask if you knew anything about who Percy was going to ask, which you didn’t. Every question of theirs dampened your mood as they all reminded you Percy was going to have a date and it wasn’t going to be you

At least, that’s what you thought. Little did you know, you’re the only person Percy could ever have eyes for. You were there back when everyone was bullying him and calling him names, and from the moment you’d shown up to fend for him against the mean people in class, the boy was a goner

Your bravery and courage was something he’d admire for the rest of eternity, as well as your kind heart and your dazzling smile and your gorgeous eyes and, well, you get the gist

Over the years, Percy grew in popularity, but he never forgot about you. You were on his side when no one else was, and he’s had a massive crush on you for ages, so how could he?

One day, you’d gotten into the passenger seat of his car as you usually do after school. Ever since he found out you’d been walking to and from school every day, he insisted on picking you up, so the passenger seat became more ‘your seat’

Flipping down the sun visor to check how you looked in the little mirror as you usually do, you found a note taped to it, clearly written in Percy’s handwriting

“Check the trunk for me? - P”

So, you got out to check the trunk and found a bouquet of flowers and a box of your favourite chocolates, as well as a lovely letter asking you out to prom. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with the man himself and quickly ran into his arms, a clear indication you would accompany him to prom

Being Percy’s date meant obviously showing up in sea themed outfits. You went back and forth on how you could best represent the ocean before settling on something reminiscent of The Little Mermaid, with you as the beautiful gorgeous stunning show stopping mermaid and Percy as the mediocre prince (his words, not mine)

Honestly, it was all so fun and the two of you were easily the best dressed as prom!!

You actually made quite a bit of your pieces yourselves and had movie marathons while doing so!! All of the movies were sea themed of course and Percy complained about all the inaccuracies in them but you love listening to him so it turned out fine :)

While Percy was in the bathroom during one of your visits to his house, Sally had given you the tiara she wore on her own prom day, insisting you wear it because she knew you were the one for Percy from the moment he uttered your name to her

You were a little hesitant of course, since the tiara probably held a lot of sentimental value to her and you’d hate for something to happen to it, but she insisted and so you wore it on the day

Since Percy hadn’t been there for this interaction between you and his mother, he was shocked to see it sitting prettily in between your perfectly styled locks of hair, and he actually teared up a little because he knew how much that tiara meant to his mother

The best part about prom with Percy is definitely the fact that he kept it casual. Not once did you feel intimidated or nervous about your every move, it just felt like any other afternoon spent in his bedroom

When you’d confessed that you actually didn’t know how to dance, Percy said he was relieved because he didn’t either, and you spent the night making your own silly dances to all the songs instead

(Unbeknownst to you, he’d actually spent months learning how to ballroom dance from Sally and Paul as he desperately wanted to impress you, but it’s okay, seeing you light up while you made up the moves as you went along was definitely worth it)

ii. JASON GRACE

Jason had actually asked you out to prom the day before the event was supposed to happen

To you, this was pretty out of character for him, since he was the type to need plans made three months in advance. However, his late promposal was actually a result of his character

You see, he’d spent so long planning how he’d ask you out that he’d completely forgotten he actually had to do it at some point

Every day, he’d come up with a new way to ask you to prom, some really cute and some awfully outlandish, all of which Piper and Leo would tell him you’d love, but none of them felt right

Which, naturally, had him running right back to the drawing board. This needed to be perfect, since it was you he was asking after all

Meanwhile, you were close to settling for one of the many guys who’d been asking to take you to prom. Every day, you hoped you’d go to school to find Jason waiting to ask if you’d go to prom with him, and every day you’d go home disappointed

Your friends had told you about how many of their boyfriends’ guy friends were really interested in you, but you just couldn’t go to prom with some random guy you didn’t care about

Luckily, you and Piper McClean were acquaintances. You didn’t really hang out much, but the two of you were the only girls in a class you took and so you obviously bonded during that

The day before prom, Piper had asked you if you were excited. You had huffed and ranted about how the guy of your dreams, Jason Grace, didn’t ask you out so you were probably going to go with some guy your friend recommended

Piper would’ve left class right then and there and ran to tell Jason if her grade didn’t depend on it. The class was first period though so it gave Jason the rest of the day to ask you out after Piper had told him her newfound information

So, Jason asked you to go to prom with him in the way he knew best: simply asking. You were over the moon and had to stop yourself from jumping around and screaming in the hallway, opting for a “sure, Jason, I’d love to!” instead

Since he asked you out last minute, the two of you hadn’t gotten to plan your outfits together. Luckily for you, Jason had a very extensive tie collection, so he could easily match his to the colour of your dress

Speaking of your dress, Jason had no idea what it looked like. When he saw you arrive at your living room, a shy smile on your face, Jason’s jaw quite literally dropped

(Imagine the Hermione Yule Ball scene)

Your parents teased the two of you RELENTLESSLY for this before you left. Although they’d just met Jason, they knew he was absolutely perfect for you based on that reaction alone

They took so many pictures before you left that they might as well have been taking one for every single member of the family

Gentleman Jason Grace obviously made sure to open the car door for you and treated you with utmost grace (haha so funny) the entire time! His hand never left yours and he showered you with compliments the entire time

When I say the two of you were the most iconic duo at prom, I mean it. Everyone’s heads would turn when they saw you and you won prom king and queen by a landslide!

Even long after you graduated, people would talk about the two of you at prom and how stunning you looked. Literally king and queen of the school

You did have to lead the way during prom since Jason was very underprepared. He was so busy figuring out how to ask you to prom that the fact that it was a social event with things to do completely slipped his mind

(He’d mention this during your wedding vows years later, telling you and everyone who was there how it served as a reminder for him to never overthink anything he wanted to ask you, which was why it didn’t take him very long to ask if you’d marry him)

Although the prom was fun, the two of you ended up ditching a few hours in and going on an impromptu date, making it official whilst sharing an ice cream sundae

Bonus! Thanks to lovely anon we have an idea of what the prom transition tiktok would look like <3 this is for JJ and Smartiepants ofc…

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x fem reader #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x fem reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson headcanons #jason grace headcanons #pjo headcanons #cynwrites

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mamayan · 1 year

Note

oof your writing is so good 🙈 if your requests are open, would you be willing to write smth for dabi with a nervous virgin reader? Maybe some fingering and petting, lots of praise and encouragement if you're okay with that!! I also wouldn't mind if theres a little dubcon scattered in there for flavour😳 Thank you!🙏

Fuck it’s his favorite— absolutely I will Nonnie♥️ Dabi is nothing if not the perfect gentlemen… sorta. Am I gonna get sued for changing his words in this manga panel? I got carried away with this lol

Yandere Dabi x Virgin! Darling

tw: NSFW • Fem! Darling • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Implied Mental/Emotional/Physical Abuse • Dubcon • Praise • Virgin! Darling • BDSM • Fingering • Oral • Sex (M)(F) • Denial/Edging • Overstimulation • Dacryphilia • Unprotected Sex • Creampie

The front door slammed loud enough to reverberate around the apartment.

You sat facing the small tv, the screen playing some sort of cartoon with the volume on low, unmoving even as the thuds of his boots against vinyl faux wood flooring became louder. You were curled around your legs, pulled to your chest as your bare feet seemed to absorb the cold around you, icy skin keeping you grounded. Only a thin ratty oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts covering your body, despite the broken thermostat keeping the apartment at almost freezing temperatures.

Dark combat boots entered your field of vision, you numbly let your eyes flick up to take him in. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey, the burning scent making acid bubble up in your stomach to your throat, but you meekly swallowed it down and gave a wobbly smile. “W-welcome home…” it was said with all the enthusiasm of a man walking towards his execution.

He crouches down to face you better, forearms resting on his knees as he levels you with a… soft look.

It has chills shooting down your spine, your stomach rolling and clenching while your chest heaves with anxiety. He’s not a soft man. He’s never been soft, not really, only in strange sporadic moments does he gently do anything to you, but it’s always followed by something sinister. Always.

“Hey pet, you cold?” He’s sadistic and cruel even on a good day. His words immediately making your eyes burn as you try to stop the impending tears. You’re always cold, left freezing locked up until his return, your only source of comfort and warmth him. It was a nasty play, logically you knew it, but logic was what got you hurt so you nodded despite the itch in your heart begging you to hold out a little longer. “M’cold…” you assent, unable to see the defeated dull look in your own eyes, but he could.

“C’mere then,” his smile is so sweet, his staples hardly pulling and his usually vibrant eyes more subdued and gentle. You wanted him to stop whatever game he’s playing now. Whatever sick trick he’s got hidden to make your walls crumble around you. His arms spread open, his knees hitting the floor so he could straighten his spine, and his embrace looking so warm.

Like selling your soul to the devil, you caved. Pathetically nearly falling as you all but threw yourself into him.

The fire wielding psychopath was a lot of things, and sadly running warmer than a normal person was one of them. Just being close to him was like sitting near a furnace, heat radiating off him in waves it seemed. You had all the time in the world to hate yourself when he inevitably left you again to nearly freeze, for now you focused on getting feeling back into your limbs as you pressed yourself as close as possible.

His chuckle is breathy as he wraps you up easily, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on his ass now, your thighs on either side of his to let you be as physically close as possible. Well, almost as physically close as possible, because when you were so desperate for his touch like this, it’s hard not to think about you begging for him to really warm you up.

“Better?” He doesn’t really need to ask, not when you’re fighting to keep your hands from digging under his shirt and getting more body heat from him. Your little sigh of contentment adorable, and while his day was mundane, he did get to release most of his pent up frustration on some lowlife pieces of shit. He was in a good mood, but he’d be in a better one soon.

“Hn” your little affirmation quiet as you rested your cheek against the exposed skin of his collarbone, breathing him in and relaxing as your stiff muscles and joints soaked his warmth up greedily. You didn’t even fight when his hands began to smooth over your skin, up your calves and thighs to your ass where he gave a little squeeze. You put up no resistance, no screaming or fighting tonight it seemed. “You still cold?” His lips are right are by your ear, warm breath blowing over it and sending a shiver of something… different down to your stomach. The stale cigarette scent wasn’t as bothersome to you when he wasn’t being mean it seemed.

You let him pet and stroke your skin, warming you up gradually and shifting you both around until your core was against his stomach and he was flat on his back. He even lifted up his shirt and your own a bit to give more contact, the staples across his chest smoother than you’d initially thought.

This was all wrong and you were without a doubt being soothed into… something. Peace? A sense of safety? Whatever it was, you mentally kept yourself prepared. Even if his touch was soft and careful, you knew what lurked behind those pretty eyes.

“You stopped shakin’…” his observation was more of a statement, but indeed you had warmed up enough not to shiver anymore. He wasn’t usually so nice as to help warm you up like this, usually making you drop to your knees and cling to him while he heckled your behavior.

Your world flipped too quickly to react. Your back now on the cool floor with his body looming over you.

“You’re still cold though, aren’t you pet?” His smile isn’t nice anymore.

“D-Dabi please…”

“What’s wrong, you don’t want me to warm you up anymore?” It was a thinly veiled threat that had you nearly delirious with panic in seconds.

“N-no I do! I do, please don’t stop!” Your pretty eyes filling with tears made him bite down hard on his tongue, tasting blood as he struggles to keep himself calm. It’s you after all. You weren’t some cheap whore he screwed for a quick release. You were his.

That meant something. Whether it was good or bad was debatable and complicated.

“Then let me warm you up, it’ll be faster like this,” he’s not lying. Even as he laughs at the confusion and waring emotions on your face, he really isn’t lying to you this time.

His lips aren’t soft. The kiss nothing like the ones you’d sneakily shared with a crush under the school bleachers, that kiss was a bit too wet and slimy. This one was commanding. His tongue easily slipping into your mouth in your shock, happy to invade and taste you, to share the overwhelming taste of tobacco. Your hands are tangled in his coat, tugging lightly on the fabric as he devours your mouth. He pulls back when you start to struggle, and the sight of your swollen parted lips has his pants uncomfortably tight. His zipper digging into his cock now.

“Dabi—,” your voice is barely even a whisper, almost inaudible but he catches it and pauses as he looks down at you carefully.

The fact that he’s even being careful should be considered as a mercy.

“Please be gentle…” your lips twist into a grimace, the lame line the only thing your muddled mind can conjure. His snort of amusement not helping your wounded pride, but as he shrugs his coat off and looks down at you, his words give you pause.

“I’m going to make you forget everything bad tonight pet.”

He doesn’t elaborate. You don’t need him to. You don’t want this. It doesn’t matter though, because you never wanted any of this. His sanity not even in question, because he’s clearly out of his damn mind and has been for quite a while.

His shirt is next, revealing his chest in the dim light of the tv still playing quietly, the words not even registering as a language you understood. The damaged flesh leathery and colored a dark purple in contrast to his healthy skin. You lay limp and almost defeated beneath him, watch as his hands deftly remove your own shirt, and while it’s not the first time he’s seen you naked… this would be the first he’s touched you so intimately. Your breasts exposed to the cool air harden quickly, his smile predatory as he leans over your chest to flick one with his tongue.

The sensation shoots straight to your pussy.

“Pretty little pet, are you scared?” His question is rhetorical, but you hate how he just seems to know your thoughts and feelings. So much so you wanted to ask if he hide a second quirk. In a last act of defiance, you shake your head. You are scared, terrified of what else there even is to lose because this evil man seems determined to take and have all of you. He’s insatiable for whatever you have, like a vampire taking the life right out of you. Except he won’t kill you, even if sometimes you wished he would. To end this game.

“Pfft, you look so serious,” his face is filled with only hunger and amusement, as he lets his rough palms rest over your breasts, squeezing lightly as he lets himself just take you in. His hands drag over your much softer skin, looking at the odd scar here and there left by his flames during the early days of your readjustment period. He lets one hand rest just over the mound of your pussy, still covered by the thin shorts that hardly covered anything. He’s quiet, and so are you, as you breathe and struggle to stay still for whatever this was. You imagined it to be more violent, less pathetic on your end, as if you’d given up without a fight.

Your tears of frustration finally broke and trailed down your cheeks, your brows furrowed and cheeks puffed as you try to stay silent and uphold whatever amount of dignity you had left. You wouldn’t beg him to stop, it only spurred him on. When his eyes looked back up, the image of you nearly drove him feral as he grinned, giddy with excitement in lieu of you crying. His snicker of approval only making you flinch back as his fingers hook inside the waist band of the shorts and your underwear.

“Keep crying pet. Maybe a hero will come to save you?” His words drip sarcasm as he now roughly yanks your bottoms down and off your body in one swift motion. You’re left completely nude and shivering as the cold seeps back into your body as you lay on the floor. “I don’t think any heroes even patrol this side of town anymore. Too dirty and messy, they can’t be bothered to save people here. So I guess that leaves just you n’me.” He’s not looking at your face, though he’d be elated to see the look of crushed hope painting your features, instead his eyes were trained on your tightly shut thighs. The soft skin a bit distorted from how hard you squeezed them closed. His dark hair falling a bit into his gaze as he easily digs his fingers roughly into your flesh to pry them open.

“Hii!” You cry of pain and shock adorable to his eyes as he gets an eye full in the dim light of your wet pussy.

“Better keep these spread pet, if I gotta open them again for you, I’ll give you a real reason to cry.” His eyes are fierce and foreboding as they meet your gaze, and fear keeps you compliant as you obey and keep your legs open where he left them. He smiles in approval, humming to himself as he begins to undo his belt and open up his pants.

He shifts to one handedly yanking his pants down to free his aching cock, his free hand moving to his open mouth to layer on his own saliva to his fingers. The wet digits brought to your pussy as you whimper, gently spreading your folds and admiring it as he grips his hard cock in his hand. You make the mistake of looking at it.

He’s covered in piercings. His cock long and thick, more so in the middle, with a slight upward curve… but there’s two distinct barbs through his dick on both sides, with the tip sporting one prominent one that had you wanting to disobey and close your legs anyway. It looked frightful and painful if anything else, and you briefly wondered if he did this to ensure his victims were thoroughly tormented at every step.

“Fuck look at you baby, so pretty like this aren’t you?” He’s gently poking and circling your clit, loving each little scared gasp and unsure look you shoot his way. He can tell it feels good for you, but with the uncertainty and fear factor of his looks and his cock, you’re wound tight in apprehension. He thinks it’s a beautiful sight on you. Your little sniffles and pouty lips captivate him into leaning over you again, licking your lips until you open and let him kiss you again. It’s languid and lazy like him, proving how good his mood currently is by how he’s taking his time with you. Your hands stay by your side, gripped tight into fists as you feel a finger begin to push inside of you.

He breaks the kiss the time, looking down to see you take his finger.

“Not so bad is it pet?” He wiggled and pushes it as deep as he can go, loving how your back aches and chest juts out in his face for easy access. He’s nice as he works you open with one finger, lavishing your sore nipples with licks and bites. You keep the moans soft and low, struggling to hate this like you thought you would.

It didn’t hurt at all. It felt good. That was the problem. Dabi never makes you feel good, he torments you like a cat with a mouse. That’s why he calls you pet.

So when he squeezes in a second finger and you moan louder? You nearly knock a tooth out slapping a hand over your lips in embarrassment.

“No you don’t,” his fingers rip free from your tight cunt, both hands gripping your wrists and pinning them with one hand above your head. He grabs his jacket, using the arms to make a makeshift cuff to lock your hands together. “Keep’’em right there,” he orders, and by his stern features you know he means it.

Tired of just testing the waters, Dabi crawls down your body in favor of bringing his face directly before your pussy. “Dabi?” Your head lifted to try and see him as he wraps his arms under your hips to hoist you up higher towards his awaiting mouth. “Been thinkin’ of how this pussy tastes for months,” he grins, letting his pierced tongue run from your dripping hole to your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body as your legs jolt and snap around his head.

You realize quickly and apologize, opening them to avoid any punishment.

“Good girl~” you don’t like how his praise warms you up further, your shaking now less from cold or fear and more from arousal.

He repeats his first few licks, before beginning to truly lavish your pretty cunt with his tongue and skills. Dabi isn’t actually an experienced man, most women fearful or disgusted by him for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t hard for him to figure out your reactions and follow the flow of your pleasure. The way you twitched and moaned, struggled to keep your hands in the spot he ordered you to, to keep your legs spread, he loved all of it. When your moans became high pitched whimpers and whines, and your muscles spasmed, he knew you were close.

“D-Dabi I think I—,” you were so close, core wound so tight you could snap at any second, and for the first time you liked what he was doing to you.

Until he stopped.

“No—!” Your cry was embarrassing, as you shook beneath him in horror of your own reaction. Panting and trying to catch your breath as your pleasure faded by the second, his Cheshire grin soaking up your disappointment eagerly. Of course he would, you felt bitter, even as he returned to licking and sucking your clit. Only when the build up returned did you relax again, moving your hips up a little as you neared the crest once more…

He stopped again.

“Dabi—!” Your indignant tone telling as you huffed, sweat beginning to dot your skin despite the cool temperatures, Dabi’s warmth even removed like this helping.

Your stomach ached with the urge to cum. “Something wrong pet?” His face said he knew what was wrong, but it seemed he wanted you to say it. Instead you stubbornly pressed your lips together, his shrug of nonchalance following as he returned to kissing and sucking, slower and more gradually building you up again.

Even if you mentally prepared for it, he let you get much closer to coming than the previous times, so when he pulled away, your legs clamped tight around his head to stop him. “Fuck, please Dabi,” you hated yourself. Hated how he held so much power over you.

If you didn’t look so cute, he’d probably punish you too for not listening.

“Please what?” You watch as he lets a drop of his salvia drip into your pussy, your trembling legs pushed open again by his hands as he stares up at you.

“P-please…” you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to give him anymore of yourself but… “—please make me cum.”

He looks like that cat which got the milk. His satisfaction palpable as he laughs. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Since you said please.” His teasing tone muffled again soon by your wet pussy, his aggressive approach now much more intense as he eats you out with the purpose of making you cream his face now.

It doesn’t take long before the string violently snaps inside you, your orgasm intense and nearly painful as you come apart.

“Ah, yes, oh—,” you try to shift away, his tongue still laving your clit as he looks up at you, narrow gaze teasing and telling as you whine. “D-Dabi I-I already—ah please!” You almost bite your tongue when he sucks hard on your clit, your panic building with another orgasm. You moan, your head thrown back as your fingers grip and tug on the binding of his coat, hips shaking as you come again.

His lower face is soaked, but he can’t find it in himself to stop as he licks up all your release and noses your clit. Switching his assault to inside of your quivering hole, letting his wet hot tongue slither in, licking and poking your walls. He moans with you now, relaxing as he lets himself get comfortable, leaning against your thigh he has propped up now with his arm keeping you locked in position. He’s lazily feasting as you come again, this time breaking his rule and trying to push his face away with your hands still bound.

He doesn’t even stop then, just uses his free hand to grip the fabric and anchor your hands to your stomach as he continues to work you into another frenzy.

“S’too much! Stop! Stop Dabi! Please fuck, I can’t, ugh, no more—,” your pleas are ignored as he laughs, eyes crinkling as he watches you twitch and jolt with even the tiniest amount of pressure to your clit now.

“I thought you wanted to cum? Change your mind already?” You can hardly manage a full sentence, gasping for air like he’s choked you or something. He relents though, only because his cock is close to shooting his load even though he hadn’t touched himself while playing with you. Using his coat, he lifts your hands back above your head and scoots forward to let his heated cock slap against your wet folds. His hips automatically jerking a few times as his dick feels the soft wet heat your cunt is soaked in.

“You want my cock pet?” You look delirious and exhausted, sweat making your hair cling to your face as you briefly almost admit to being too warm now. Your both chilled and overheated as your sweat dries. Your blurry vision glances down to his throbbing length peaking at you from below, the heavy rod sliding back and forth through your slick and causing your pussy to twitch as he nudges your clit with it.

“S’not gonna fit…” his lip nearly splits on his smile, the cute admission only making him wanna shove it in you more to prove it will fit.

“You don’t think so?” His eyes look inhumanly blue from the cast of whatever show played on the tv now. One hand stays to keep your own pinned, while the other travels down your soft body to grip his cock and line himself up. “‘Cuz I think it will,” then he’s pushing in. His tip goes in easier as it gets crushed by your tight convulsing cunt, the rest engorged by blood feels painful as you cry, Dabi moaning as your gooey walls try to force him out. “I think,” one sharp thrust sinks a whole inch in, your eyes opening wide as tears spill freely, “I’ll get my entire cock in,” he pulls out only a little before shoving in a little more again. “And you know what else I think?” He’s leering down at you, manic grin frightening with the added shadows cast. You can feel his piercings, tugging and forcing themselves inside as he shifts and pushes, nearly stealing your ability to breathe.

“I think you’re gonna like it.” You can’t talk and he knows it, as his tip kisses your cervix, and then it’s bruising it as he shoves himself to entire way in, gasping in pleasure he sees himself fully sheathed inside you. His groin flush with your ass. Your walls so tight it feels impossible to pull out now. It doesn’t matter to Dabi though, as he grits his teeth and rocks forward and back, creating delicious friction on his cock. You’re left to sniffle and cry, pussy stretched painfully wide and aching deep inside from how his rough entrance.

“Poor little crybaby,” he chuckles, leaning closer to lick the tears off your cheeks as he finally gets himself wet enough to begin a slow pace inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, burying his face in your neck for a moment while he ruts into you, quick short thrusts working him close to his orgasm. His hand works between you, thumbing your clit as you cry and writhe beneath him, pussy clenching and relaxing as you’re forced to cum with something thick, hot, and painfully heavy inside your cunt.

“Shitttt,” his teeth sink into your neck, grunting as his balls draw tight and he pumps his boiling load deep into your womb, pushing even deeper as it twitched and spurts. Your legs locking and trembling as you see stars.

He stills for a moment, catching his breath quickly as he lifts up to look at your ruined appearance. Your face covered in tears as you pant, eyes nearly closed as struggle to stay awake. Your pussy even messier, slick and cum coating you both and the floor, a tiny bit of pink mixed too.

The thought that it was him who ruined your innocence, taken your first and last, has him hardening again inside you.

You can only whine, silently pleading for a break, but his answering smile is familiar and devious.

“C’mon pet, we’re just getting started tonight.” He chuckles, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming into you now. The shock woke you up fully, pussy protesting the rough treatment he sets as the room fills with salacious noises, your pussy squelching with each slap of his balls. The piercing on his tip hitting a new angle as he leans back and jerks your hips up off the floor.

“Oh!” Your vision goes black as you cum, and Dabi only laughs and fucks you harder as you pass out, loving the stupid expression on your fucked out face.

“That’s it pet, said I was gonna make you forget!” He’s emptying another load inside you not longer after, his own dick becoming a bit overstimulated but too engrossed fucking you to stop yet. With you half conscious, it’s easy to slip out and flip you to your stomach before sliding back in smoothly. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, taking my cock like you were made for it,” his words are slurred in his pleasure, his hips working against your ass as he drags his slick cock out of your pussy before working it back in. He’s even deeper like this, your belly and hips flat on the floor as he fucks you.

You can’t even remember why you didn’t want this anymore. The pleasure and warmth overwhelming and so perfect.

At least as he fills your pussy again, you don’t feel cold.

#request filled #bnha Dabi #Bnha Dabi smut #mha Dabi #mha Dabi smut #Touya Todoroki smut #Dabi smut #Dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n smut #bnha smut #villain smut #yandere smut #yandere Dabi #yandere dabi smut #yandere dabi x reader smut #fem! reader

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sourlove · 5 months

Note

How would Henry react if reader decided to run away?

🩷🌸

FIND ALL PREVIOUS PARTS AND ASKS HERE

Thanks for the ask!

Henry is a very intelligent man. Part of the reason he led his people to victory in so many wars is because he's such a good strategist. He can think ahead and prepare for any possible scenario. He knows you would try to run away.

So Henry strategized. While you were in the palace, you tried to run away multiple times, only to be caught each time. What you didn't know was that Henry had stressed over every single possible escape route and placed roadblocks to stop you. But after the incident with the Queen, he couldn't trust the people around you.

Moving to a safehouse was a simple matter. Things got complicated when you finally reached the end of your rope and seemed to be doing everything you could to frustrate him.

But Henry had planned for that too.

What a flighty little thing you are. The moment a door was left open by 'accident', or the guards weren't looking, you slipped away. Only to be captured, not by Henry, but by people much worse than him. People that beat you and threaten to use your body as they please. Just as they were about to make true on their promise, there comes Henry, your valiant King on his stallion, slaughtering them all and taking you back to safety.

He nurses you tenderly, cooing when you cry into his arms. All his guilt from arranging the attack goes away when you become so pliant and sweet for him. Well, as long as you learned you lesson, there was no reason for him to spoil anything. Besides, he mused with a slight smirk, the only people who knew the circumstances had been taken care of.

On another hand, if you actually run away and manage to hide away somewhere, that changes everything. The King everyone is knew is gone and with it goes every sense of reason.

Henry had never felt a connection or affection with anyone in his entire life, not even his parents or his wife or his children. The curse made him actually yearn for a love that could save him. Meeting you changed something in him, something in him grew into some dark and twisted form of love that he desperately chased like a drug. For him to suddenly be deprived of you flipped a switch no one had expected.

Henry became increasingly violent the longer you were gone, lashing out at basically anyone who tried to approach him. His visions were coming back and he refused to sleep, for fear of nightmares. He turned away food and only focused on finding you. When nothing came from his search, Henry went ballistic.

He burnt down the forests one by one so you wouldn't have a place to hide. He had villages searched and threatened with execution if they were hiding you. He sent droves of knights into the farthest ends of the kingdom for anyone who even looked like you.

At the end of the day, the message was clear: the King had gone mad and the destruction left was because of you. As long as you were returned safely, peace would be restored and the good King would rise again as their kind and strong ruler. The people had no reason to doubt Henry or the narrative that was being spread. After all, he had done so much for the kingdom, it was their duty to find his lost treasure.

And find you, they did. You were dragged back to the palace in chains and Henry, uncaring of who was watching, wept and kissed you all over your face.

From that day on, any sense of privacy you might have had was gone and you were never left unsupervised. The only way you can escape Henry is through death, and even then, he swore to find your spirit and bring you back to your rightful place by his side.

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed this!

@pinkrose1422

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beyondthesefourwalls · 7 months

Text

A Verbal Agreement

Summary: You hated Jake Seresin. Truly, you did. Or at least you strongly disliked him. But as it was, he did something for you that no other man could, and it kept you coming back for more.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.2K (no one is as shocked as I am that I kept it short)

Warnings: Smut. Dirty talk. Enemies with benefits. Language. The Blonde One™️.

---

You hated him.

Truly, you did.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe strong dislike would be a better way to describe it.

Jake Seresin was a smug son of a bitch. He was the bane of your existence in so many ways, and got under your skin like he was trying to burrow there and make it his home. His arrogance annoyed you, constantly walking around with a holier-than-thou attitude, like he was God’s gift to women, the Navy, and society in general. His smirk made his face punchable in a way that you were barely able to resist smacking him when he shot it in your direction.

But damn, if his ability to string together filth didn’t drive you fucking crazy.

“That’s it. Fuck. That’s my good girl.”

You clenched around him at his words, a moan leaving you because of the praise.

Dirty talk was something you considered to be an artform. It was one of your biggest turn ons, and so little men knew how to actually execute it. So often when you’d ask for it, it came out awkward, cringy or obnoxious. They fumbled over words and made everything sound so unappealing, unable to find that perfect balance of praise and degradation that you longed for, that you would barely be in the mood to finish after they spouted off what they thought was sexy.

So it would figure, of course, that you discovered Jake was the best dirty talker you had ever been with after what was supposed to be a one time mistake after a few too many drinks at the Hard Deck. He made everything sound so flawlessly erotic and natural, you were basically a puddle for it every single time.

It was no secret that Jake loved to hear himself talk, and this was the one situation where you not only didn’t mind, you wanted it.

“Taking me so fucking well. You were made to take it, weren’t you baby?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nodding rapidly, your nails dragging down his back. “Made to.”

“Yeah you were. I’m making you feel so good, aren’t I?”

Your moan turned into a scream of his name as a sharp smack came down on your ass, Jake nearly bending you in half as he fucked you. “Answer me.”

You knew from knowing him for so long that he hated being ignored, especially in bed, and especially when it was about how good he was making you feel.

“Yes! Fuck!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls. “So good!”

His chuckle and his smirk were both so smug, in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes. But here, in the privacy of your apartment, it sent another wave of arousal through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into him.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that straight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and as smooth as velvet. “Not like you would have been able to deny it, anyway. You’re so fucking soaked, you’re making a mess of the sheets and those pretty thighs of yours. I can only imagine how good it's going to feel when I come inside of you. Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathed.

"You’re so fucking tight, baby. Sucking me in like a damn vice.”

"Please," you whimpered. You were close; so close. But you needed more. “Please, please, please.”

“God I love it when you beg for me.”

He said the words almost to himself, so you didn't answer, caught in a whirlwind of lust and frustration. Jake’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, tight circles against it. Your vision blurred at the stimulation.

“You want my cock so bad, don’t you?”

“Jake.”

You felt the edges of your control fraying, the pleasure building to a breaking point. Your whole body shook - sweet release so near that you could almost taste it.

"Yeah, baby," he growled, his hips pounding into you even harder. His thrusts became more urgent as he neared his end, too, demanding and pointed."You want to come for me?”

You couldn’t answer, falling into the haze of what he was making you feel. Your mind was a blank canvas, lost to the sensation of his cock filling you, all that existed was the intense sensation of him thrusting against your nerve-endings, the friction between your clit and his fingers, and the rhythm of his voice, husky and perfect, pulsing through you.

Another smack to your ass, and then his hand found your chin, squeezing just tight enough where it drew you out of your head. He guided your gaze toward him. His eyes, always so mischievous, were dark and calculating. “Do you want to come for me?” he repeated, and you moaned at the authority ringing in your ears.

Your voice was barely a whisper as the words tumbled out of your mouth. “Yes. Please, Jake. Make me come.”

“Then do it. Be a good girl, and come for me. Now.”

Your body responded to his command instantly. You arched into him, your screams echoing in the room as you shattered, your nails digging into his back. He never stopped talking, his voice coaxing as much from you as he could.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. Come inside this sweet little pussy. And you’re going to take all of it, baby.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you and he kept up his relentless rhythm, chasing his own release. You felt him go rigid inside you, and then his hips jerked forward once, twice, and then a third time as he joined you over the edge. He grunted out your name as you clung to him, your arms around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him pulse inside you.

For a few moments, you both laid there, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Jake settled more of his weight on top of you in a way that always made you feel more secure as you came down from the high, and you placed a soft kiss against his neck in appreciation.

“I still hate you,” you mumbled into his skin.

Jake chuckled low in his throat, and then laughed even harder when the sound caused you to clench around his softening cock. He pulled out of you slowly, sliding over your sensitive flesh. You could feel his cum slipping out of you, furthering the mess between your legs. You couldn’t help but shiver as he settled on the mattress beside you, pulling you into his sweaty chest.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, darlin’.”

“No, I mean it.”

But even as you said it, you were cuddling closer to him, draping your leg over his as got comfortable. Post-orgasm was one of the only times he was quiet, or at least not as chatty, and you enjoyed basking in the afterglow that always followed these trysts.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you could feel the smirk that was no doubt a mix of smug and indulgent as he did. “Sure.”

“Shhhh,” you murmured, “don’t ruin it.”

He laughed lightly, but settled down, not saying anything else.

-----------

Notes: I really have no idea what this is or where it came from, but here we are.

Thanks to @roosterforme @mak-32 and @sylviebell for reading it over and all your help! And to Mak for a stunning banner, as per ushe.

Main Masterlist

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robertreich · 6 months

Video

youtube

How Trump is Following Hitler's Playbook

You’ve heard Trump’s promise:

TRUMP: I’m going to be a dictator for one day.

History shows there are no “one-day” dictatorships. When democracies fall, they typically fall completely.

In a previous video, I laid out the defining traits of fascism and how MAGA Republicans embody them. But how could Trump — or someone like him — actually turn America into a fascist state? Here’s how in five steps.

Step 1: Use threats of violence to gain power

Hitler and Mussolini relied on their vigilante militias to intimidate voters and local officials. We watched Trump try to do the same in 2020.

TRUMP: Proud Boys, stand back and stand by.

Republican election officials testified to the threats they faced when they refused Trump’s demands to falsify the election results.

RAFFENSPERGER: My email, my cell phone was doxxed.

RUSTY BOWERS: They have had video panel trucks with videos of me proclaiming me to be a pedophile.

GABRIEL STERLING: A 20-something tech in Gwinnett County today has death threats and a noose put out saying he should be hung for treason.

If the next election is close, threats to voters and election officials could be enough to sabotage it.

Step 2: Consolidate power

After taking office, a would-be fascist must turn every arm of government into a tool of the party. One of Hitler’s first steps was to take over the civil service, purging it of non-Nazis.

In October of 2020, Trump issued his own executive order that would have enabled him to fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA loyalists. He never got to act on it, but he’s now promising to apply it to the entire civil service.

That’s become the centerpiece of something called Project 2025, a presidential agenda assembled by MAGA Republicans, that would, as the AP put it, “dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision.”

Step 3: Establish a police state

Hitler used the imaginary threat of “the poison of foreign races” to justify taking control of the military and police, placing both under his top general, and granting law-enforcement powers to his civilian militias.

Now Trump is using the same language to claim he needs similar powers to deal with immigrants.

Trump plans to deploy troops within the U.S. to conduct immigration raids and round up what he estimates to be 18 million people who would be placed in mass-detention camps while their fate is decided.

And even though crime is actually down across the nation, Trump is citing an imaginary crime wave to justify sending troops into blue cities and states against the will of governors and mayors.

Trump insiders say he plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to have the military crush civilian protests. We saw a glimpse of that in 2020, when Trump deployed the National Guard against peaceful protesters outside the White House.

And with promises to pardon January 6 criminals and stop prosecutions of right-wing domestic terrorists, Trump would empower groups like the Proud Boys to act as MAGA enforcers.

Step 4: Jail the opposition

In classic dictatorial fashion, Trump is now openly threatening to prosecute his opponents.

TRUMP: if I happen to be president and I see somebody who’s doing well and beating me very badly, I say, ‘Go down and indict them.’ They’d be out of business.

And he’s looking to remake the Justice Department into a tool for his personal vendettas.

TRUMP: As we completely overhaul the federal Department of Justice and FBI, we will also launch sweeping civil rights investigations into Marxist local district attorneys.

In the model of Hitler and Mussolini, Trump describes his opponents as subhuman.

TRUMP: …the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country…

Step 5: Undermine the free press

As Hitler well understood, a fascist needs to control the flow of information. Trump has been attacking the press for years.

And he’s threatening to punish news outlets whose coverage he dislikes.

He has helped to reduce trust in the media to such a historic low that his supporters now view him as their most trusted source of information.

Within a democracy, we may often have leaders we don’t like. But we have the power to change them — at the ballot box and through public pressure. Once fascism takes hold, those freedoms are gone and can��t easily be won back.

We must recognize the threat of fascism when it appears, and do everything in our power to stop it.

#youtube #videos #fascism #Donald Trump #election #video #politics

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jinchuls · 8 months

Text

𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 ₊˚✩

ᡣ𐭩 various knight!character x fem!reader

includes 𝜗𝜚 iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurou (nsfw), ojiro aran (nsfw - marking), takanobu aone

notes 𝜗𝜚 repost from previous blog, mdni

𝑰𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒛𝒖𝒎𝒊 𝑯𝒂𝒋𝒊𝒎𝒆 was the most responsible man assigned to you. No matter your request, big or small, he would execute them with perfection and a quiet “Yes, Your Highness.” He’d bow his head, stand close and make sure every step you take is safe. For the longest time, he seemed to have no interest in anything other than your father’s expectations of him. Not in you, or his fellow knights–he’d perform as he should but no more. You hated it. You hated the lack of attention, the simple responses and the silence as he stood at your side and, most of all, you hated how the small acts, the brief moments your eyes would meet and how those three words would make your heart skip. As you ignore the burning in your chest whenever he is near, you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. You’re oblivious to the shake in his voice when he does quietly respond to you and you don’t notice the gleam in his eyes when yours meet his–you look away before you can notice the red tinge painting his cheeks–and you had no idea the silence was caused by his pure inability to string sentences together in your presence. He wanted to, he wanted to hear your voice every second of the day or be the cause of your laugh. It’s your outburst one night that changes the course of your relationship, that starts something that would result in Hajime’s certain dismissal, with tears welling in your eyes and the frustration clear on your face you confess every emotion weighing down on your heart hoping, praying, he felt the same. He can hear his own heartbeat as it quickens, the pounding in his chest so loud he fears you can hear it from your position across the room; his face reddens again–you have to hide your smile to spare him any more embarrassment–and he begins to stutter. If he had found it difficult to speak around you, it worsened in that moment, but it was clear, no matter what the future would hold for your heart, your feelings were mirrored by your knight.

𝑲𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝑻𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖 had mastered the art of trickery. In your family's eyes, he was the perfect candidate to keep you safe. He was that man, amongst all of his peers he was one of the strongest and most capable men that your parents could trust–he’d perfected their vision of him which only presented him every opportunity to show you the less professional sides of him. He was the man he allowed everyone to see but he was also the man able to rile you up, in all the right ways, with a lingering stare and a mischievous glint in his eyes or the touch of his fingers against the nape of your neck as he struggled with the clasp of your necklace. Your attraction to him was unheard of; you’d be ridiculed by anyone that found out. A member of the royal family and their knight? It was an impossible match Supposedly. They only thought that way because they didn’t know what happened when the door was closed; when the knight’s barrack was empty or any other moment the two of you found yourselves alone. There would be no more talk of the incompatibility of royals with anyone of lower status if they knew the way you’d find yourself bouncing on his cock as night settles around the palace. Or how you’d bite your lip to stop the moans from escaping you as he held your waist and the rhythmic movement of his hips had your legs shaking as each precise thrust pushed against every nerve sending you one step closer to bliss. None of it mattered, they could whisper and they could plan your betrothal: they would never know how comforted you felt wrapped in his arms or how protected you knew you were simply walking through the halls of your own home. No one could ruin what had been created and no one would ever know. Outside of your shared secret, all that was seen was your gentle orders directed at him, your voice soft but stern–as it was with every individual under your command–and his return the usual, the formal response everyone was expected to utter but his with a sly, subtle flirtation that left your legs weaks beneath you: “Yes, Your Highness.”

𝑶𝒋𝒊𝒓𝒐 𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒏 was perfect. Cheerful, strong, intelligent and, most important of all, able to cope with the incessant issues caused by the Miya twins (the knights assigned to your siblings. Days seemed to pass quicker when he was there; whenever time appeared to slow, he would be there to keep you company. There was no such thing as a dull moment when he was at your side. From the moment you met him, he was far too easy to get along with. Solid lines engraved in your mind were fading; the lessons taught to you as a young noble were forgotten and the very nature of the expected relationship between knight and noble was lost. You had never been happier. “Aran.” You’d whisper, fingernails digging into the skin of his arm; your head fell back against the pillows as he kissed your neck softly. “I know,” His voice would be no louder than yours, “Not where they can be seen.” With a kiss to your collarbone, he’d look between your bodies at the littering of fading marks he’d left the last time he’d had you in his arms. Across your chest, your thighs, anywhere where they would be hidden from eyes you did not trust. As always, he’d make a comment about how you looked beautiful with the evidence of him. And, as usual, it doesn’t take long before he’s darkening existing marks, kissing your chest. Biting your skin softly to hear those sweet sounds he adored, and leave behind reminders of the night for you to find the next morning. With more scattered across your skin, he’d sit up to look down at his masterpiece as you reached up for him, missing the warmth of his body closer to you. Your quiet mewls were heaven to hear. A smile sat on his face as he leaned down, chest against you and his lips grazing yours. He’d still, hips pressed to yours forcing whimpers from your throat–a silent cry for more–you’re too lost in ecstasy to give it up now. “Please.” You whisper, eyes meeting his. He grins, hands softly holding your waist as he slowly pulls his hips away again. “Yes, Your Highness.”

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒖 𝑨𝒐𝒏𝒆 was quiet. From the day he was assigned as your personal guard, he’d barely uttered a word to you or to anyone. He’d simply nod his head to accept any order you sent his way and, miraculously, he’d found a way to relay any message from you wordlessly. You envied those able to understand the behaviour you’d never seen before and you found yourself wanting to be among those he seemed close to. You would watch his fellow knights approach him; you’d watch how Futakuchi would speak to the man and reiterate his silence into words during group conversations whilst you were left in confusion. Day in and day out, you’d find yourself watching him and the little interactions he would have with those around him, occasionally catching his perfectly gentle nature with small animals that roamed the palace gardens. You were certain he could feel your eyes on him but he never seemed to care; you knew words had got to him that you had been asking those he spoke to often to tell you about him but he never stopped your interest. And, as time passed, you found your curiosity had grown into something much more. You’d look away quickly when he would turn his head in your direction, eyes suddenly focused on the tea in front of you. Aone was quiet. Almost too quiet. But the red of his cheeks, that you caught for just a few seconds, was loud. You clear your throat, fearing your voice could break as you try once more to encourage a conversation with him. “The weather is lovely today,” you grip the teacup tightly, closing your eyes and wincing in the embarrassment, that wasn’t what you’d wanted to say. “Would you,” you quieten, looking anywhere other than where he is stood. “Would accompany me on a walk?” He waits a moment and you glance up, expecting to see a small nod, as always. He meets your eye, a soft smile on his face as he does so. “Yes, Your Highness.”

#𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜 ༉‧₊˚.#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou smut #ojiro aran #aran x reader #ojiro aran smut #aran smut #takanobu aone #aone x reader #haikyuy x reader #haikyuu smut

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dee-writes-anime · 21 days

Note

So I saw that your requests are open and that you do JJK and I was wondering if you’d be interested in the idea buzzing in my brain for the past week. Nanami is a total jazz lover in my mind and there’s a jazz club in town and the reader is a jazz singer full of passion. I’m thinking Nanami falls head over heels for reader especially with her voice as she sings love songs. Also I love your work it’s fantastic and always a joy to read.

The Echoing, All-Encompassing Sound of Love

FEATURING Kento Nanami x Female Reader

SUMMARY The Blue Note was a place Nanami went to unwind after hard, long days of endless, meaningless work. It was a place for him to fall into the shadows and familiarity of the deep blues and jazz, it was a comfort, but nothing had ever touched him, enraptured him like you had when you stepped on that stage.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, introspective??, Kento gushing over his WOMAN (bark bark bark), obsessed man, this is some deep, soulful shit yall, only edited ever so slightly T-T

AUTHORS NOTE I have no idea where I went with this or how it got to this point, but I really hope I brought your vision to life darling anon. <3

The jazz club, nestled in the heart of the city, is alive with an intimate, cozy energy. The space is dimly lit, with soft, warm lighting casting long shadows across the room. A thin haze of smoke lingers in the air, adding to the club's mystique. The gentle hum of quiet conversations mixes with the soft clinking of glasses and the occasional low laugh, creating a comforting backdrop for the evening.

At a small, round table near the stage, Kento Nanami sits, his posture relaxed yet composed. His impeccably tailored suit fits him perfectly, as always. He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid catching the faint light. His sharp gaze is focused on the stage, where musicians are setting up their instruments, tuning and adjusting, preparing for the night’s performance. The familiar ritual of the pre-show calm settles over him, a welcome escape from the chaos of his usual day-to-day life.

Nanami takes a sip of his drink, savoring the smooth burn as it slides down his throat, and leans back slightly in his chair. His eyes flicker around the room, taking in the scattered patrons, each one lost in their own world of jazz and ambiance. He’s been coming to this club for a few weeks now, drawn by the soothing allure of the music and the promise of an evening where the only battles to be fought are between trumpet solos and sultry saxophone notes.

He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be different. Tonight, a new performer is set to take the stage, and with her first note, Nanami’s world will begin to shift in ways he never expected.

Nanami wasn’t the type to indulge in luxuries. He preferred the quiet satisfaction of a well-brewed cup of coffee, the crisp pages of a book, the efficiency of a perfectly executed plan. But there was something about this jazz club that drew him in like a moth to a flame. The dim lighting, the haze of smoke, the low hum of the bass—these were not things he typically sought out, but here, in this place, they provided a strange sense of comfort.

Tonight, the club is alive with its usual hum of activity. Patrons sit scattered around small tables, their faces barely visible in the shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of flickering candles. The scent of whiskey and old leather mingles with the faint traces of smoke, creating an atmosphere that is both timeless and ephemeral. The band on stage plays a slow, steady rhythm, a saxophone gently crying out a mournful tune that fills the room with a bittersweet nostalgia.

Nanami sits at his usual table, close enough to the stage to see every detail, yet far enough to remain unnoticed by most. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, his suit crisp and neat despite the casual setting. He swirls his glass of whiskey, watching the ice cubes clink softly against the sides, his gaze occasionally drifting to the stage. His mind is calm, his thoughts quieted by the gentle rhythm of the music. He’s been coming here for weeks now, finding solace in the music, in the anonymity of the darkened room.

But tonight is different.

The moment you step on stage, something shifts in the air. It’s as if the very essence of the club changes, the room becoming quieter, the audience collectively holding its breath in anticipation. Nanami feels it too—a subtle tightening in his chest, a flutter he can’t quite name. He watches as you move into the spotlight, the soft, golden light catching on the sequins of your dress, making you shimmer like a dream. Your eyes are closed, your posture relaxed yet poised, as if you’re in a world all your own.

And then you start to sing.

The first note is like a whisper, gentle and soft, yet it carries through the room with a clarity that demands attention. Your voice is unlike anything Nanami has ever heard—smooth as honey, rich as velvet, with a depth that speaks of experiences and emotions he can only begin to imagine. Each note is carefully controlled, each word filled with emotion, and he finds himself leaning forward slightly, his focus entirely on you.

As you continue, your voice grows stronger, more confident, filling the room with a warmth that wraps around everyone like a comforting embrace. The lyrics are a love song, simple yet profound, speaking of longing and hope, of heartache and desire. Nanami feels each word as if it’s directed at him, as if you’re singing just for him, your gaze occasionally sweeping across the audience, and he can’t help but wonder if you see him.

The way you move on stage is mesmerizing. You sway gently to the rhythm, your hands occasionally rising to emphasize a particularly powerful line. There’s a passion in your performance, a raw emotion that spills out with every note, making it impossible to look away. Nanami’s heart races, a strange sensation for someone usually so composed. He doesn’t know why, but something about you, about this moment, feels significant—like a turning point he didn’t see coming.

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the liquid warming him from the inside out, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth your voice brings. As you hit a high note, the room seems to hold its breath, and Nanami feels a shiver run down his spine. He’s never felt so captivated, so drawn to someone. It’s as if your voice is a thread, pulling him closer, wrapping around his heart and refusing to let go.

For the first time in a long while, Nanami feels something beyond the constant grind of his duties. He feels alive, his senses heightened by the music, by your presence. He doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know your story, but in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the music, the way your voice makes him feel, and the strange, undeniable pull he feels toward you.

He tries to stay for the rest of the night, anticipating the moment he can go up and introduce himself when all the performers do crowd work. However, it seems his phone has different plans as it buzzes insistently in the back pocket of his slacks, calling him cruelly away from the opportunity to catch your name, to hear your voice once more. Kento Nanami doesn't consider a man who's easy to anger, but that night, having lost the opportunity to know you, to catch just a single glimpse at your soul again, he can't help but feel his blood boil under his skin.

As he leaves the club, he convinces himself that he will see you again, that he will take the next opportunity as it comes and talk to you.

And that is how Kento Nanami quickly becomes a fixture at The Blue Note, his visits growing more frequent, timed perfectly to coincide with your performances.

He never deviates from his routine: arriving a few minutes before your set, he always sits at the same small table near the stage, his broad shoulders relaxed yet somehow still commanding in his perfectly tailored suit. He orders a single glass of whiskey, savoring it slowly throughout the evening.

His presence is quiet but unyielding, like a shadow that’s always there, watching, observing. Every time you step on stage, his gaze is already on you, unwavering, a steady anchor amidst the flickering candlelight and swirling smoke. It’s a look that’s intense, focused, as if he’s trying to unravel the secrets hidden within each note you sing.

You’ve noticed him, of course—how could you not? At first, he was just another face in the crowd, another patron drawn to the allure of jazz and dim lighting. But as the weeks passed, you found your eyes lingering on him more and more, intrigued by his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed to hang on to every word you sang. There was a mystery about him, a sense of restraint that made you wonder what thoughts lay hidden behind those piercing eyes.

As the days turn into weeks, his presence becomes a comfort, a constant in the ever-changing tide of the club’s clientele. You start to look for him as you step on stage, your gaze naturally drifting to his usual spot. The way he watches you feels different from the others—more profound, more attentive, as if he’s listening not just with his ears, but with his entire being.

And each time you sing, you can’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a silent understanding that grows stronger with every performance. His steady gaze becomes a source of inspiration, a quiet encouragement that pushes you to pour even more of yourself into each song. It’s almost as if you’re singing just for him, even though you’ve never exchanged a single word.

One evening, after a particularly soulful rendition of an old jazz standard, you notice him again. He’s there, as always, sitting at his usual table, his eyes following you with that same intense focus. But tonight feels different. There’s something in his gaze that you can’t quite place—an emotion that lingers in the air like the final note of a song.

The club is quieter than usual tonight, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room. As you step off the stage, your heart still pounding from the performance, you find yourself drawn to him, almost against your will. You’re not sure what compels you—perhaps it’s the curiosity that’s been building inside you for weeks, or maybe it’s the intensity of his focus, the way he seems to see right through you, as if he knows every emotion behind your songs.

You make your way through the tables, your steps slow and deliberate, your heart beating a little faster with each one. As you approach, you notice the subtle shift in his expression—his eyes widening slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his otherwise stoic face. He sets his glass down carefully, his movements calm and measured, but you can see the tension in the way he sits up straighter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Hi,” you say softly, your voice carrying just above the soft hum of the club. Up close, you notice the sharp angles of his face, the way his hair falls neatly over his forehead, and the intensity of his eyes—eyes that are watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something deeper.

He nods slightly, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “Hello,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, matching the ambiance of the club perfectly. There’s a moment of silence, the kind that hangs heavy with unspoken questions and unsaid words.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “I’ve noticed you here before,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “You come to listen a lot.”

Nanami’s eyes soften, and he nods again. “I do,” he admits, his gaze steady and sincere. “You have a… remarkable voice. It’s not something one can easily forget.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in them striking a chord deep within you. You smile, a genuine, warm smile that reaches your eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

He tilts his head slightly, a subtle curiosity playing across his features. “From me?”

You nod, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence. “Yes. You always seem so… focused. It’s hard not to wonder what you’re thinking.”

Nanami chuckles softly, a rare sound that seems to surprise even him. “I suppose I’m just… listening,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “Trying to understand the emotion behind each song. You sing with such passion; it’s hard not to be drawn in.”

Your heart flutters at his words, at the honesty in them. For a moment, the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, smoky club, sharing a connection that feels almost tangible.

As the evening goes on, the conversation flows naturally, each word revealing a little more about the enigmatic man who has been such a mystery to you. And as you talk, you find yourself wanting to know more, to understand the quiet strength behind his stoic exterior, and to uncover the emotions that lie beneath his calm façade.

Tonight, you’ve taken the first step into a new rhythm, one that neither of you could have anticipated.

But your exploration ends there-- at least, for the time being as Nanami finds himself pulled back into the Jujutsu world, all his extra time lost to consistent missions and training as a grade-one sorcerer.

It's only about a month later that he is finally able to force just enough time into his exhausting schedule to come see you again, the dim glow of the jazz club's lights dances across the walls, and the familiar hum of chatter fills the room as patrons settle in for another night of music.

Nanami sits at his usual table, but tonight feels different. His normally calm and composed demeanor is slightly frayed at the edges. His fingers tap nervously against the rim of his glass, and he takes a slow, deep breath. He’s been thinking about this moment for weeks, rehearsing his words, imagining every possible outcome.

He can no longer ignore the pull he feels toward you—the singer who has become more than just a beautiful voice on stage. Every performance has drawn him deeper into your world, and he finds himself wanting more. He wants to know you, to understand the person behind the melodies that have captivated him so completely.

As the final notes of your current song fade, you take a small bow, the audience’s applause a warm, familiar comfort. When you lift your gaze, your eyes naturally drift to his spot, widening ever so slightly when you see him watching you with that same intense focus. There’s something different in his expression tonight, a hint of determination that makes your heart skip a beat.

When the set ends, you make your way offstage, your steps lighter than usual. As you head toward the bar for a drink, you see him rise from his table, his tall figure cutting through the smoky haze of the club. He’s coming toward you, his movements purposeful but not rushed. There’s a resolve in his stride, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation.

“Hi again,” you greet him with a smile as he approaches, leaning casually against the bar. Up close, he’s as striking as ever, his presence commanding but not overpowering. There’s a softness to his eyes tonight, a warmth that wasn’t there before. "Long time no see."

“Hello,” he responds, his voice a touch lower than usual, an embarrassed blush lightly dusting his sharp cheekbones. He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. You can see the faintest hint of nervousness in the way he briefly glances away before meeting your gaze again. “I wanted to… say something.” He hesitates, then continues, “First, I wanted to apologize for my absence after our conversation. I see how it might seem that my lack of attendance is directly related, and I want to make it clear that it wasn't."

"That's alright," you say so sweetly, your voice dripping with a honey that doesn't reach the stage. It makes him pause, that soulful tone that you sing with is so at odds with your personality it almost makes him want to enquire whether or not you are the same woman.

But he has more important things to do, like reveal his truth. "A-and also.. your voice… it moves me in ways I can’t quite explain. It’s like every note, every word carries a piece of you, and… it reaches me.”

His confession is quiet, almost lost in the low murmur of the club, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes now, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the composed exterior.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you feel a playful urge to lighten the moment. “So, does that make you my most dedicated fan?” you tease gently, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Nanami chuckles softly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. “I suppose it does,” he admits, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoicism. “I can’t seem to stay away.”

There’s a moment of shared laughter, and in that instant, the tension between you softens, replaced by a warm, unspoken connection. It’s a feeling that’s been building for weeks, and now, standing here with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you have a favorite song from my set?” you ask, curious to know more about the quiet man who seems to hang on your every word.

Without a second’s hesitation, he answers, “The ballad you sing—the one about longing and quiet devotion. It… resonates with me.”

You nod, recognizing the song he’s referring to. It’s one of your favorites too, a song filled with deep emotions, a story of unspoken love and silent yearning. His choice surprises you, but it also makes your heart flutter. There’s something incredibly personal about his answer, something that touches a place deep within you.

As the evening progresses, you prepare for the next set. Nanami returns to his table, but there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor, a subtle shift in his posture. You take the stage again, the band picking up the soft, familiar notes of the ballad he mentioned. The room falls silent as you begin to sing.

Your voice carries through the club, each note delicate and filled with emotion. As you sing, your eyes search the crowd, drawn inevitably to him. When your gaze finally meets his, it feels like the air is charged with electricity. His eyes are locked on yours, and suddenly, the song takes on a whole new meaning. It’s no longer just a performance; it’s a conversation, a silent exchange of feelings that neither of you has dared to voice until now.

The words spill from your lips with a newfound intensity, each lyric filled with the raw emotion that’s been building inside you since the moment you first saw him. The love song, once a simple ballad, now feels like a confession, a declaration wrapped in melody. You can see it in his eyes too—a depth of feeling that mirrors your own, a quiet devotion that makes your heart race.

As the final note fades into the silence, you realize that the room has disappeared, leaving just the two of you connected by the invisible thread of the music. The applause is distant, a faint echo of reality, but all you can focus on is the way he’s looking at you—as if you are the only person in the world.

In that moment, under the soft glow of the club’s lights, something shifts between you. It’s a beginning, a step into uncharted territory, but it feels right. And as you both stand there, wrapped in the warmth of the song and the quiet understanding between you, you know that whatever comes next, it’s a melody you’re both eager to explore.

It's not long before the nights at The Blue Note become something more than just performances and applause. After the crowd disperses and the lights dim, the club transforms into a sanctuary of quiet conversations and shared silences. Nanami stays longer now, his reserved demeanor softening with each passing evening. You sit together at the bar or at his usual table near the stage, sometimes talking late into the night, sometimes just sitting in a comfortable silence that says more than words ever could.

You’ve come to look forward to these moments—the way Nanami listens so intently when you speak, as if every word matters, the way his eyes soften when he catches you smiling. There’s a calm about him, a quiet strength that you find yourself drawn to more and more. He never pushes, never asks for more than you’re willing to give. Instead, he’s just… there. A steady presence that has quickly become a constant in your life.

You learn things about him in these quiet hours. He speaks of his work in vague terms, his shoulders tensing slightly whenever the topic drifts too close. But he’s open about his love for jazz, about how he finds solace in the melodies and rhythms. He tells you about the first time he heard you sing, how something inside him shifted, how he knew he would return again and again.

In return, you share pieces of yourself with him—stories of your childhood, your love for music, and how it’s the one thing that has always made you feel truly alive. You tell him about the first time you sang on a stage, how nervous you were, and how that fear melted away the moment you began to sing. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

As the days turn into weeks, an unspoken bond forms between you. It’s there in the way Nanami orders your favorite drink without you asking, in the way he waits for you to finish after every performance, ready with a quiet smile and a listening ear. It’s in the way you look for him in the crowd, your heart lifting just a little each time you find him sitting at his usual spot, watching you with that steady, unyielding gaze.

You begin to see the depth of Nanami in the little things—the way he’s always mindful of your space, the way he listens more than he speaks, and how his rare, gentle smiles are more precious than any grand gesture. He shows his affection in thoughtful ways—a book he thought you might like, a warm cup of tea on a rainy night, a steady hand at your back when you’re feeling overwhelmed.

It’s these moments, small but meaningful, that make you realize just how much he’s come to mean to you. He’s become more than just a regular at the club, more than just a face in the crowd. He’s someone you’ve come to rely on, someone whose presence brings a sense of calm and comfort that you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Tonight, the club is busier than usual, the crowd buzzing with energy. You’re back on stage, the warm glow of the spotlight casting a soft halo around you. The band starts to play the familiar opening notes of a love song, the same ballad Nanami had mentioned that night—the one filled with longing and quiet devotion. Your heart flutters with a mix of nerves and excitement. Tonight feels different, charged with a new kind of energy.

As you begin to sing, your eyes naturally seek him out. Nanami is there, as always, sitting at his usual table. But tonight, there’s no distance between you. He’s no longer just a quiet admirer in the shadows; he’s someone who knows your stories, someone who’s seen you in your most vulnerable moments. And when your gaze meets his, it’s like the whole room falls away, leaving just the two of you connected by the music.

Your voice carries through the club, each note filled with a tenderness that wasn’t there before. You sing for him now, every word an unspoken confession, every melody a shared memory. The song is more than just a performance; it’s a dialogue, a way to say all the things you haven’t yet put into words.

Nanami watches you with a quiet intensity, his eyes soft and warm. You can see the emotion there, the depth of feeling that he so rarely shows. And as you sing, you can feel it too—a warmth spreading through your chest, a sense of belonging that makes you feel more alive than ever.

The final notes of the song hang in the air, a delicate echo that slowly fades into the silence. The crowd erupts in applause, but all you hear is the quiet, steady beat of your heart, all you see is the way Nanami’s lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile.

You take a small bow, but your eyes never leave his. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent promise that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. And in that moment, under the soft lights of the club, with the music still lingering in the air, you know that you’ve found something special—something worth holding onto.

As the night draws to a close and the crowd begins to thin, you make your way off the stage, your steps light and purposeful. Nanami is waiting for you, his figure a steady presence amidst the shifting shadows. He doesn’t say anything as you approach, but his eyes speak volumes—filled with a quiet devotion that makes your heart swell.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying just above the soft hum of the remaining patrons.

“Thank you,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “For everything.”

Nanami nods, his expression gentle, and without another word, he offers you his hand. You take it, feeling the warmth of his touch, the strength of his grip—a silent promise that whatever comes next, you won’t have to face it alone.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, with the music still echoing softly around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

#nanami kento #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento x y/n #nanamin #kento fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #gege akutami #gege when i catch you gege #gege why #jjk

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justlemmeadoreyou · 4 months

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4. heat of the kitchen (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here)

summary: the day of the gala, but something unexpected happens, leaving you a responsibility that could either make or break your career.

words: 5k

warnings: fluff, a hint of angst.

You had just started falling into a restless sleep when your phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, making you jump awake in surprise. Squinting your blurry eyes at the bright screen, you felt a prickle of worry when you saw the time - 4:17am. This couldn't be good news at this hour.

Sure enough, it was Harry's number flashing on the caller ID. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"[Y/N], hey..." Even through the tinny distortion of the phone line, you could hear the grimness and exhaustion in Harry's voice. "Look, I...there's been an emergency with my family back home. My mom is really sick and not doing well."

You sat up straight in bed now, any remaining grogginess from sleep instantly swept away by a crushing wave of dismay. You listened in silence as he explained in brief phrases about needing to get on the next available flight to go back to New York right away. He said he wasn't sure when he'd be able to return to Chicago.

"I just didn't have a chance to let you know about this earlier," Harry's low, raspy voice crackled with regret. "I've already spoken with Thomason to take over running things at the event today, but...I'm so sorry, [Y/N]. The timing of this could not possibly be worse."

"No no, please don't even worry about that right now," you interjected quickly, your mind already whirling with the huge implications of what he was saying. Today was the extremely important Martin gala event - without Harry there to oversee the execution of his highly complicated, avant-garde centrepiece dish, the whole thing could spectacularly fall apart in front of all the big-name food critics and chefs of Chicago.

And yet...none of that professional stuff mattered at all compared to the intensely personal crisis your mentor was going through right now. "Is everything...I mean, is your mom going to be okay?" you asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry too much but deeply concerned.

Harry let out a shaky sigh that made your chest clench with empathy for what he must be feeling. "I don't know yet. They're running some medical tests on her this morning to get more answers, but...it doesn't look good so far based on what they've told me."

There was a heavy pause before he added in a rough, strained voice, "Looks like I've got another big battle ahead of me here."

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt a pang of fondness at those terse words that sounded so quintessentially like Harry - tackling this heart-wrenching personal turmoil with the same determination and head-on approach he always brought to challenges in the kitchen.

"I'll be okay," Harry stated in a tone that made it clear he didn't want or expect any sympathy or reassurance from you about it. "Right now, all I need is for you to promise me that the gala event today is going to be a complete success no matter what else is happening. Can you handle being fully in charge of running the whole operation and making sure my vision for the centerpiece dish comes out perfectly?"

He didn't need to go into more detail - you knew full well the enormity of the responsibility he was asking you to take on here. Tremors of nerves joined the waves of sympathy and concern roiling through you at the weight of this task. But you didn't hesitate at all before answering.

"You have my word, Chef," you vowed solemnly. "I'll treat this dish and event with the same intense, laser-focused commitment you've been drilling into me from day one - and I absolutely won't let you down."

This time, Harry's answering exhale held the faintest trace of pride and...something more you couldn't quite put your finger on. "I know you won't let me down. I'm gonna have to go take care of things now, but I'll call again later to check in on how preparations are going over there. In the meantime, just stay calm, stay focused, and execute everything exactly like we've practiced over and over again these past weeks."

"I will. And Harry--" you hesitated momentarily before plunging ahead. "I really hope...well, just please take care of yourself too, okay? Sending you all my best wishes for your mom to get through this."

There was a beat of surprised silence before he responded in a gruff but sincere voice, "Yeah...thanks, [Y/N]. I appreciate that."

With that, the call clicked off abruptly, leaving you alone amid the predawn stillness with nothing but the immense weight of the trust and responsibility Harry had placed on your shoulders.

This was by far the biggest professional challenge you'd ever faced in your culinary career. Not just having to pull off executing Harry's avant-garde, innovative, wildly complex dish to absolute perfection under the intense scrutiny of the biggest names and players in Chicago's food world - but doing so while your mentor battled a hugely serious personal crisis unfolding all the way across the country in New York. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with anxious adrenaline and nerves.

Still...despite the daunting nature of this task, you couldn't help but feel a sense of opportunity arising as well. This was an unexpected and unprecedented chance for you to truly prove yourself at the highest possible level, to rise up and show you had the skills and mental toughness to handle the most intense culinary pressure situations. You'd worked too damn hard, invested too many long hours of sweat and failures in kitchens everywhere to let this monumental opportunity slip through your fingers.

A feeling of steely resolve settled over you as you climbed out of bed and began methodically getting ready to start your day. No matter what curveball life had thrown at Harry derailing his own ability to participate, your role and mission remained unchanged - you made a solemn vow to him, and you utterly refused to let him down when he was counting on you most in this dire moment. This gala would go off flawlessly, the vision and game plan he'd meticulously drilled into you executed with precise mastery down to every last detail. Abject failure was simply not an option today.

***

By the time the first pale streaks of dawn began filtering through your windows, you were fully dressed and shoving a high-protein bar into your mouth as fuel while heading out the door to the event venue. Despite the early hour, there was already a palpable buzz and energy of activity when you arrived, crews of staffers and organizers darting around in a highly choreographed frenzy as they put the very final touches and preparations in place.

You spotted Thomason's towering, intimidating form immediately - the harsh sous chef resembled a military general marshaling the troops, barking out orders and keeping everything flowing in an orderly yet intense manner. Straightening your spine, you crossed over purposefully to greet him directly. Thomason's eyes flicked over you appraisingly before giving a short, sharp nod of acknowledgment. "Good, you're here. Let's get you situated and start running through all your station assignments."

Without any further preamble or wasted words, he turned sharply on his heel and strode off at a brisk pace, clearly expecting you to fall into step directly behind him with no delays. Suppressing a resigned sigh, you did just that, matching his stride as Thomason immediately launched into a rapid-fire rundown and delegation of every single responsibility that would fall under your purview for the entire day.

It was...honestly, a staggering amount of crucial tasks and oversight duties to absorb all at once this early in the morning, especially given the giant extenuating circumstance and crisis situation hanging overhead with Harry's absence. But Thomason pressed on in his typical brusque, no-nonsense manner.

Apparently Harry had already briefed the imposing, burly sous chef on the pertinent details of the personal situation he was dealing with, as evidenced by Thomason's uncharacteristic patience whenever you had to pause to fully digest certain instructions or ask for any clarification on assignments. But the gruff kitchen veteran otherwise made no comforting allowances, simply conveying the huge pile of duties you'd need to stay on top of from morning prep straight through to the evening's high-stakes dinner service.

By the time he finally finished laying out the overwhelming laundry list of tasks you were accountable for, a tenuous sense of control had settled over your earlier panic and worries. You could do this. Logistically speaking, it would be the most daunting and high-pressure culinary challenge you'd ever faced by far - but thanks to all the intense training and preparation Harry had put you through, you genuinely felt as ready as you could possibly be. All that remained now was keeping your head down and executing flawlessly with the same pinpoint focus and work ethic he'd instilled in you through those grueling practice runs.

With a grim nod of determination, you turned and started overseeing your assigned kitchen crew in setting up the intricate series of mise en place stations that would be required for pulling off Harry's avant-garde, wildly complex centerpiece dish. All around you, the buzz of frantic activity swelled as area after area of the massive venue was brought online in final preparation for the rapidly approaching arrival times of guests and participants.

Though you kept waiting for the spike of nerves and adrenaline to hit, surprisingly, a strange sense of calm numbness had instead descended over you - the kind that often surfaced in the middle of an intense, all-hands-on-deck dinner rush back at the restaurant. In these do-or-die, make-it-or-break-it kinds of situations, there simply was no spare mental bandwidth available for anything beyond the critical task directly in front of you in that very moment. Distracting thoughts and nerves got shunted aside as survival instincts took over.

And just like that, you lost yourself in the soothing, almost meditative rhythm of prep work, falling into that laser-focused state of dicing, slicing, arranging each individual ingredient component with painstaking, meticulous care according to the detailed specifications Harry had drilled into you over and over. At one point, you absently accepted a bottled water from one of your line cooks with a murmured thanks, but otherwise operated on auto-pilot.

You weren't entirely sure how much time had elapsed before Thomason's gruff bark of "Ten minutes!" roused you from your intense, trance-like focus. All around, your crew instantly kicked into an even higher gear, ferrying the completed mise en place components to the designated plating stations in an efficient flurry of motion. You barely registered Thomason sidling up next to you with an evaluating look on his imposing features.

"You did decent prep work so far, kid," he acknowledged in a tone of voice that was only marginally less dismissive than his usual demeanor. "Now let's see if you can actually plate this bastard of a complicated dish without totally screwing the pooch."

With that uniquely Thomason-style pep talk, he gave your shoulder a clap and then strode off to take his place at the all-important expediting position for the evening's service, leaving you warmed by the backhanded compliment. Coming from the notoriously harsh and miserly-with-praise Thomason, those words were basically the equivalent of an ecstatic rave.

Any boost of confidence was welcome at this point, as the first wave of elite guests began trickling into the dining area right on schedule. You could feel the atmosphere in the room shifting, charging with buzzing energy and anticipation as these influential culinary figures saw the artfully designed space, flipped through the rundown of tonight's prix fixe menu, and speculated about what boundary-pushing creation Harry had surely concocted for his centrepiece auction dish.

Your own adrenaline kicked into high gear as you took your place at the head plating station, flanked by your hand-picked crew who would assist in the extremely intricate assemble of all the individual components coming together. A hush fell over the kitchen as you exchanged looks with your team, giving a final nod of readiness.

"First courses..." came the terse callout from the expo line. And with that, you immediately snapped into focus, hands moving with the precision drilled into them through countless practice runs as you began plating the initial courses.

From there, the entire high-stakes evening blurred into a cyclone of intense concentration and rapid-fire execution, broken only by the occasional smattering of polite applause from the dining room as each new course made its debut to apparent delight. But you remained steadfastly disengaged from all of that, shutting it out entirely as you moved with economical grace from one fastidiously assembled plate to the next in a state of total flow.

You were aware on some level of Thomason periodically prowling the line, sharp eyes scrutinizing every last component with the intensity of a decorated drill sergeant. But his presence was almost soothing in a way, a low-key affirmation that you and your crew were hitting every lofty mark thus far.

Finally, after what felt like both a grueling endurance marathon and the naturally seamless completion of a singular, continuous motion...it was time. All the other courses had been executed flawlessly, clearing the way for the pièce de résistance - Harry's avant-garde centerpiece dish that would cap off the evening. You took a deep, steadying breath as the first calls came in from the expo line.

"Fire one centerpiece!"

Your hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, each practiced motion flowing seamlessly into the next as you began assembling the first plate of the showstopper course. Around you, your crew worked in the same laser-focused unison, handling each individual component with utmost care and attention to detail.

Despite the mounting pressure with every new order fire, that strange sense of calm numbness persisted. There was no mental bandwidth to spare on anything extraneous - your entire world had contracted to these series of sequential tasks laid out before you, each one flowing naturally into the next like a continuous stream.

Plating tweezers arranged the final delicate pour of herb-infused olive oil spheres with the same singular focus as you squeezed the pipette to apply the perfectly calibrated dot of acidic reduction. Not a single movement was wasted, not a component out of place as you slid the finished avant-garde masterpiece across to the expo line for final approval before heading out to the dining room.

"Looked good from here, kid," Thomason's gruff voice sounded in your ear amidst the orchestrated chaos, startling you slightly. You blinked, barely registering the stocky sous chef's towering presence overseeing your shoulder before turning your attention immediately back to the next set of hands firing.

On and on it went in that same relentless yet steady cadence, each nouveau plate a pristine reflection of the focus, intensity, and cumulative skill that had been honed into you over months of Harry's rigorous training. Sweat beaded along your hairline, apron dampening as you moved with increasing speed and efficiency under the mounting pressure of continuous fires.

You were only vaguely aware of the soft crashing waves of polite applause rolling in from the nearby dining room each time a new creation hit the tables. Your ears were trained to more important sounds - the sharp callouts from expo, the curt exchanges between yourself and your crew attempting to maintain the incredible pace.

At one point, you registered Thomason's heavy tread beside you once more, his grizzled voice pitched low to be heard over the controlled pandemonium. "Pretty damn flawless so far, I'll give you that. But don't let your foot off the gas now, we still got a ways to go yet."

A simple grunt of acknowledgment was all you could spare in response as you plated two more centerpiece dishes in rapid succession, sliding them across for inspection. Thomason made a noise of begrudging approval before turning away, freeing you to tunnel-vision once more.

Swaying slightly on your feet from the physical toll and intense focus, you blinked away the spotties at the edge of your vision. There was simply no other choice - failure was not an option, not after everything you and Harry had invested into this critical moment.

How much time had elapsed, you couldn't say. All you knew was the continuous cycle of order fires, the increasingly efficient rhythm of your movements and those of your crew. The end goal of seeing this groundbreaking creation delivered to the last diner with the same polish as the first lone plate.

It was only when the final callout came over the line that reality slowly bled back in around the edges. "Last one, centerpiece! Fire for the panel..."

The clatter of your toolkit was shockingly loud in the relative stillness as you began assembling that climactic plate with even more painstaking care than before. Every component was a masterstroke, each paso doble between you and your crew unfolding in step.

You barely registered Thomason's presence hovering nearby, posture radiating tension and scrutiny, as you slid the final centerpiece across for his inspection. A short eternity seemed to pass as the steely-eyed veteran examined the plate with unsparing intensity from all angles.

At last, he gave a single deferential nod before calling out the fire to the dining room. "Chef's centerpiece...walking!"

A rousing swell of applause rolled back from beyond the partition as you straightened up, only now allowing the descending sense of accomplishment to wash over you fully. It was done - Harry's groundbreaking, avant-garde vision had been executed to utter perfection.

The surrounding kitchen area seemed to slowly reanimate as the rest of the corps d'équipe emerged from their own hypnotrance–states, exchanging tired grins and backslaps of congratulations. For his part, Thomason wore an expression that bordered on...approving?You could never tell.

"You pulled it off, kid," he rumbled in that trademark gravelly baritone. The stocky chef's clap on your shoulder managed to convey impressed respect more clearly than any flowery praise. "Flawless service from top to bottom. I'll be sure to pass that along to Chef Patino when I touch base."

Your face must have reflected the gratified shock you felt at the gruff compliment, as Thomason's mouth twisted wryly before adding, "Don't look so damn stunned. You did good work holding it all together out there tonight. Real good work."

With that, he gave your shoulder one final squeeze before turning to address the rest of the crew and applauds rippled through the kitchen area. But you barely heard any of it over the dull roar in your ears - the mixture of bone-deep exhaustion and sheer disbelief at what you'd all just managed to pull off against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Gradually, the bustle of post-service breakdown routines fired up around you. But you remained still in the eye of that storm for several long moments, simply allowing the profound weight of your accomplishment tonight to sink in fully.

Despite the challenges, the unexpected crises that had threatened to derail everything...your tenacity and the depth of your training had ultimately prevailed. Harry's faith in you had been rewarded with an unmitigated triumph.

The realization brought a surge of fierce pride, tempered only by the hope that your mentor had managed to find some shred of comfort amidst his own turmoil tonight. You knew Harry well enough to be certain he would be dissecting every component, evaluating each nuance of the dish's execution with his trademark intensity even from afar.

And suddenly, you very much needed to hear his voice - to fill him in on all the details, reassure him that you'd kept your word right down to crossing every final T. To...well, to simply share in this significant victory with the man whose driving ambition and belief had made it all possible.

As if summoned by sheer force of will, your phone began buzzing from your back pocket with a familiar caller ID flashing. Stepping aside from the lingering chaos, you swiped to accept the call with your heart lodged squarely in your throat.

"Harry? It's me..."

The voice on the other end sounded tinny and wrung-out, yet still utterly suffused with that unmistakable gravel-rough timbre. "How'd it go, kiddo?"

Despite the bone-weary fatigue dragging at your every muscle, you felt a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you took in the sight of your crew unabashedly celebrating their collective win. "See for yourself."

With a few quick taps, you switched the call over to FaceTime, angling the camera to capture the wild scene surrounding you. Raucous cheers and whoops of victory filled the feed as Harry got an eyeful of his triumphant kitchen corps living it up.

For a long moment, he was silent on the other end, drinking in the rowdy scene. Then, his low chuckle finally filtered through, slightly watery but brimming with unmistakable pride.

"That's my crew," Harry rasped in a voice gone thick. "Well done, team. Well done."

You grinned fiercely at the screen, willing him to feel every ounce of your conviction as you responded. "We did you proud, Chef. Start to finish."

And just like that, the shaky exhale he released said everything his gruff words couldn't. For all his outward bravado and grit, your mentor's steadfast belief had been vindicated tonight - and his faith in you rewarded beyond even his own expectations.

For the first time in weeks, that shaky tension seemed to finally loosen its grip on both of you. Though the road ahead might still be fraught, this evening's triumph had forged an unbreakable bond of shared understanding and trust.

The entire grueling process of preparing for and executing the ambitious centerpiece dish had pushed both your skills, stamina and mental toughness to their limits. But instead of fracturing under such tremendous shared pressure, your mentor-mentee dynamic had been distilled down to its essential core - that of two committed culinary artists striving relentlessly towards the same creative vision, and ultimately emerging unified in the wake of that lofty achievement.

In that moment, any unresolved tensions or lingering frissons of attraction between you were rendered almost quaint, overwhelmed by the profound sense of creative synergy and hard-won victory. Those undercurrents would inevitably resurface later once the high had faded. But for now, you could simply bask in the warm glow of knowing you'd risen to every challenge thrown your way and come out on top.

Harry must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, the way your posture had relaxed slightly without sacrificing any of that fierce determination. His gruff chuckle sounded again through the phone's speaker, drawing your attention back to his careworn but glowing expression.

"Listen, pet..." he began in that trademark rasp, once again hitting you with the nickname that made your heart skip a beat,. "I gotta go take care of some stuff on this end. But we're gonna crack open a couple bottles when I'm back, you and me. We've earned it after pulling off a goddamn miracle like this one."

The very thought of the two of you sharing drinks and cutting loose for once, without the weight of impending culinary obligations hanging overhead, struck you as incredibly appealing after tonight's intensity. A warm smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gave an emphatic nod.

"You know I'm gonna hold you to that, Chef. I'm thinking top-shelf stuff too, none of that bottom-rung swill."

Harry threw back his head with another peal of laughter. "You got it, you earned it. Gimme a couple days to get things sorted and I'll take you somewhere swanky to celebrate, on me. My way of saying thanks for proving me right about you, Y/n."

Before you could respond, Harry's gaze grew pensive, amusement fading slightly as he searched your expression with uncharacteristic earnestness. "And I mean it, you know. Not just about the drinks, but...well, you really came through in the clutch tonight. I knew you had the skills to pull it off, but seeing you actually do it against those crazy odds? You exceeded every expectation. I couldn't be prouder if you were my own flesh and blood."

You felt your cheeks warming at the uncommon depth of sincerity in his gravelly voice. Though Harry had never been one for emotional vulnerability, in this moment you could see the profound gratitude shining through loud and clear.

"That really means a lot coming from you, Harry," you managed in a slightly hushed tone, momentarily rendered speechless by the unexpected warmth radiating from him. "You know I'd never want to let you down, especially when you were counting on me most."

The tender moment stretched out in weighted silence, intimate currents flowing back and forth even through the crackle of the video feed. Until eventually, Harry seemed to resurface from that unguarded well of sincerity, giving a slightly blustery clearing of his throat.

"Well anyway, you did the heavy lifting tonight," he rallied in his typical all-business timbre, the hoarse bravado back in full force. "I'll leave you and the crew to enjoy your big victory bash. Just try not to get too out of hand with the partying."

He started to shift away from the camera, clearly preparing to disengage, when his hazel-eyed gaze flicked back to pin you with an unreadable look. A ghost of a smirk played around the edges of his mouth as he seemed to drink you in through the video feed.

"Oh, and one more thing, darlin'..."

You felt your breath catch at the rich, velvety timbre Harry imbued that endearment with - a departure from the casual, teasing way he usually deployed such pet names. This particular iteration seemed to caress something deeper, more weighted between you.

"I'm real proud of how you rose above and killed it tonight," he murmured in that same honeyed rasp that raised goosebumps along your skin. His gaze raked over you with unmistakable heat and intent. "Showed me that laser-focused mental strength and fortitude I always suspected was in there."

Harry shook his tousled head slowly, lips still curved in that secretive half-smile. "Gotta admit, I clearly underestimated you in the past, darlin'. Won't be making that mistake again."

The suggestive timbre in which he issued that statement was utterly at odds with the mentor-protegee context you'd been operating in mere moments ago. You felt your breath hitch as a warmth bloomed across your cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware that you were still surrounded by your raucous crew celebrating nearby.

Surely you were reading far too much into Harry's words and tone...except his eyes were gleaming with a combination of heat and challenge as they roamed over your features in a way that made you feel stripped bare. As if he knew full well the dizzying, electrifying effect he could have on you - even through a mere video call - and was shamelessly exercising that power.

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you could possibly say to that molten statement you had no idea. Thankfully, Harry seemed to recognize he was quickly veering into the old inappropriate territory and reigned himself in with a rough throat-clearing.

"Anyway, go have fun with the crew and I'll holler at you in a couple days once I get things sorted out on this end," he concluded, all traces of that heated bravado tucked away once more behind his typical gruff exterior. "You've more than earned it, darlin'."

Another searing look accompanied the purring emphasis he gave that endearment before Harry flashed you a stunningly lopsided grin - then the video feed clicked off, leaving you slightly dazed and flustered in its wake.

A long moment passed where you simply stared at the blank screen, cheeks still burning as your mind raced over the cadence of that parting exchange. From the heartfelt gratitude and rare showering of praise...to that inexplicably molten aside loaded with suggestion, it had all left you feeling deliciously unmoored and off-kilter.

You remained in that uncertain headspace for a while longer, the buzz of your crew's raucous celebration providing a soundtrack as the hours ticked by. Though you made a concerted effort to remain present, to revel in this hard-won moment of glory alongside your teammates, part of your consciousness couldn't help but keep circling back to that searing parting remark from Harry.

You kept thinking about the way he spoke, wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind his words. Suddenly, your long-suppressed feelings for the charismatic chef surged with volcanic intensity, consuming every rational thought until only one truth remained.

You decided you were done hiding your desire for Harry– done keeping that ravenous wanting locked away in the name of professionalism.The next time you saw your mentor, you promised yourself you would be completely honest. No more beating around the bush. Only complete, blazing honesty.

You would openly admit the burning attraction you'd felt since first meeting his intense gaze months ago. You would confront the growing tension from all his suggestive comments.

No more hiding behind being professional. You would put everything out in the open, once and for all. Either Harry felt the same fiery passion...or he didn't, and you could finally move on.

Once and for all.

But the need to finally uncover the truth burned within you, even if it meant risking everything and leaving your heart in ashes - because the constant wondering and uncertainty had become a suffocating torment you could no longer endure. Making that decision lifted a weight off your shoulders momentarily, but you steeled yourself knowing the real challenge still lay ahead, a daunting path that could either lead you to euphoric fulfilment or utter devastation.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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