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nervousdiythesimspsychic · 2 days ago

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the fox and the treasure hunters part 3

Part 3 already.

Warning: violence, strong language but nothing to intens.

i hope you like it

xxx Ziezo

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Part 3: I’ve got you

The city was a maze of sound and movement. (y/n) glided smoothly between the stalls, her sharp gaze fixed on her target.

Wooyoung stood at a stall where an elderly woman sold various types of clothing. His eyes sparkled as he held up a piece of silk, attempting to negotiate. “What do you think, San?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his friend. “Would this look good on me?” San rolled his eyes and gave him a playful shove. “You already have enough junk.” “Junk?” Wooyoung chuckled, feigning an overly offended expression. “This is style, my friend. Fashion.”

You stayed just out of sight, listening to their exchange while her eyes remained locked on Wooyoung’s coin pouch, carelessly hanging from his belt. It was as though he was inviting her to get it.

As Wooyoung leaned forward to examine the fabric more closely, You stepped closer. Your fingers moved swiftly and precisely, your breath held when you slid the pouch free. In seconds, the pouch was yours.

Wooyoung turned just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of her shadow vanishing into the crowd. “Hey, wait a minute…” “What now?” San asked, bored, crossing his arms as he looked at Wooyoung. “I… I think something’s missing,” Wooyoung said, hastily running his hands along his belt. His eyes widened. “My coin pouch! It’s gone!” San stared at him and shook his head. “Maybe you should trade that ‘fashion’ for a bit of common sense,” he said, glancing around. Wooyoung let out a frustrated groan.

In an alleyway nearby, you opened the leather pouch and smiled at the glint of a few coins. “Thanks for your contribution,” she whispered, sliding the pouch into her bag as she walked calmly toward her next target.

Later that afternoon, Mingi strolled through a narrow alley that opened onto the market square. His long strides carried him easily through the bustling crowd. He held a freshly baked bun, taking a bite while his other hand absentmindedly twisted a silver ring between his fingers.

You trailed him with your eyes. He seemed carefree, almost too large for the cramped alley, but the glint of his ring caught your attention.

As he approached a stall selling apples, you saw your chance. With a quick, calculated motion, you knocked over a basket of apples, sending them clattering loudly across the cobblestones. “Oh no, my apples!” You cried out, your voice deliberately panicked.

Mingi turned in surprise, saw the scattered apples, and walked over to her. “Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked, his deep, kind voice resonating. He stuffed the remaining bun into his mouth and began picking up the apples.

“What a mess,” you muttered, crouching slightly and showing fake embarrassment. “Thank you, sir. That’s so kind of you.”

While Mingi focused on the apples, Your hand subtly brushed against his, deftly sliding the ring off his finger. She picked up the last apple, offering him a polite smile. “Thank you again, kind sir,” she said with a small bow before quickly walking away.

Mingi watched her go, smiling to himself and feeling pleased with his good deed.

It wasn’t until much later, while standing with Yunho, that he felt along his fingers and frowned deeply. “Hey, my ring is gone,” he murmured, inspecting his hand. “What?” Yunho asked, standing beside him. “That ring from Mom… Someone must’ve stolen it.”

Yunho let out a deep sigh. “Seriously? How many times do I have to tell you to keep better track of your stuff?” “I was keeping track!” Mingi said offended. “Someone must’ve taken it while I was helping that girl with the apples!” Yunho shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t always play the hero.” But Yunho had a gut feeling that this apple girl might not be just another market vendor.That evening, as Seonghwa walked alone the harbor, the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. He paused at an old wooden pier, pulling out his compass. It was a carefully preserved heirloom, adorned with intricate engravings on the lid and a small insignia bearing his family name. The compass had guided them through many journeys.

Seonghwa gazed briefly at the still water, letting his fingers run over the metal surface before slipping it back into his pocket. His thoughts wandered to the fox. “Where would you hide?” he muttered to himself.

Not far away, you watched him intently, munching on one of the apples you had taken. Your eyes had immediately locked onto the gleaming compass when he pulled it out. This wasn’t a simple trinket; it had to be important to him. you pulled your hood up, partially hiding your face, and crept closer.

As Seonghwa turned and began walking slowly back toward the inn, you made a move. With a deliberate plan, you bumped into him. “Oh, pardon me, sir!” you said quickly, your tone polite but shy, as you stepped back, lowering your head in feigned embarrassment.

Seonghwa looked at you briefly, his sharp gaze assessing. “It’s nothing,” he said curtly, starting to walk past her.

But by then, your hand had subtly brushed against his pocket and extracted the compass. your fingers closed tightly around the metal object as you leaned toward him, as though to apologize again.

“Be careful where you walk,” Seonghwa said finally. His voice was calm, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.

You smiled politely and quickly walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. you felt his gaze burning into your back as you disappeared into the alleyways. He was more suspicious than you had expected.

Later that evening, as Seonghwa sat with the others at a table in the inn, he ran a weary hand over his pocket. His eyes narrowed. “Where’s my compass?” he asked suddenly, his voice sharp.

The rest of the group looked up. “Your compass?” Hongjoong asked, folding his arms and giving Seonghwa a stern look. “Didn’t you just leave it somewhere?” Seonghwa shook his head, his gaze tense. “I still had it when I was walking by the harbor. I put it in my pocket.” “So, you’ve been robbed too,” Jongho grumbled, his voice low and heavy with irritation. “This isn’t just a robbery,” Seonghwa said, clenching his fists. “That compass means a lot to me. This can’t be a coincidence.”

(y/n) sat on the roof of a warehouse at the edge of town, her legs dangling over the edge. She twirled Seonghwa’s compass in her hands, admiring how the soft moonlight made the engravings shimmer. “So much emotion over such a small thing,” she whispered, a playful smile spreading across her face. She knew how important it must be, which made this feel like a victory.

Her gaze drifted to the inn, where she could see the men sitting through the windows. Their faces were tense, and she noticed Seonghwa speaking irritably to Wooyoung. “Keep looking, boys,” she murmured softly. “I’m not done with you yet.”

(y/n) slid off the roof and landed gracefully on the ground. With a satisfied smile, she tucked the compass into her bag and disappeared into the night, unaware that the eight men in the inn had just found a missing piece of the puzzle.

The atmosphere in the inn was tense. The men sat scattered around the table, their faces shadowed by flickering candlelight in the damp room. They had not only failed to find new clues about the fox, but now multiple members of their group had been robbed.

Seonghwa leaned on the table with his elbows, fingers interlaced as he stared downward. “My compass is gone,” he said curtly. “And I’m sure it didn’t just fall out of my pocket.” Mingi slammed his fist on the table. “Not just your compass. My ring’s gone too.” He glared at Yunho, seated beside him. “And you said I just wasn’t paying attention.” “Because you’re always so careless,” Yunho muttered, though his usual levity was absent. He frowned deeply, glancing around. “But now I’m starting to think this isn’t a coincidence.”

While the others talked over each other, Yeosang sat quietly at the end of the table. His gaze slid over his friends’ faces before settling on the flickering candlelight. Finally, he spoke calmly, his voice clear and resolute. “I think I know what’s going on,” he said.

The group fell silent, turning toward him. “What do you mean?” Jongho asked, his voice piercing the sudden quiet. Yeosang leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Everything that’s gone missing follows a pattern. These aren’t just ordinary objects. They have value—not just financial, but personal.”

Seonghwa frowned. “What exactly are you saying?” “Your compass,” Yeosang began, nodding toward Seonghwa. “It’s not just a compass. It’s something you always carry with you—a guide. And Mingi’s ring? That has a story behind it. It’s not something you’d just forget.”

Yeosang turned to Wooyoung, who had been about to say something flippant. “And you,” Yeosang continued, “you said you were missing some money. Not much, but enough to notice. You also mentioned seeing that girl at the harbor before you realized it, right?” Wooyoung nodded slowly, as if the truth were beginning to take shape. “Yeah, she walked off just as… wait a minute.” Yeosang nodded triumphantly. “Exactly. Think about it. This isn’t a random thief. This is someone who knows us. Someone who’s been watching us. Everything points to this being deliberate.” “The fox,” Jongho whispered.

Yeosang smiled thinly. “Exactly. And if that girl is the fox, she’s playing with us.”

A New Plan

Hongjoong looked at Yeosang sharply. “So, what do you suggest?” Yeosang considered his answer for a moment before replying. “She stole from us not because she needed the items, but because she wants to challenge us. This is her way of keeping us at bay—or maybe showing us something.”

San grinned suddenly. “So, the little fox wants to play a game. Fine. Let’s play.” Seonghwa nodded, his eyes glinting with a new determination. “Tomorrow, we’ll put everything into finding her.” “And if she tries to strike again?” Mingi asked. Yeosang smirked slightly. “Then we’ll be ready to catch her. But,” he added, “we need to be cautious. She’s smarter than she looks. If we underestimate her, we’ll never win this game.”

Wooyoung laughed aloud. “Finally, a real lead! That silly little fox! Let’s celebrate and have one more drink before calling it a night.” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “You’re paying, right?”

The morning began early, with a light mist blanketing the village and obscuring the view. The eight men spread out with determined faces through the streets and alleys. Each had the same mission: to find the mysterious girl who had repeatedly outsmarted them.

Seonghwa’s Methodical Approach

Seonghwa, ever the strategist, began his search at the market where Wooyoung had seen her the previous day. His sharp eyes scanned the stalls as he calmly questioned the merchants. “She was here yesterday,” he said to an older woman selling apples. “long (y/h/c) hair, young woman, maybe a little nervous? Did you see her?” The woman scrutinized him before shaking her head. “I see so many faces, young man. But if you find her, tell her she needs to pay me for the apples.”

Seonghwa frowned and tucked that detail into his mind. It seemed their suspect had more than one skill.

San’s Determined Hunt

San moved quickly through the bustling village streets, his sharp gaze focused on every detail. His strong frame navigated the crowd smoothly, occasionally nudging people aside with a polite yet firm touch.

When he turned into an alley, he froze. His eyes landed on a young woman in a simple cape, her face partially hidden. She stood by a fish stall, deep in conversation with the vendor. San felt a spark of hope and approached her directly. “Good morning, miss,” he began, his tone polite but probing. “Were you here yesterday as well?”

The woman looked up, clearly startled by the question. Blonde hair peeked out from under her hood. “Me? No, I just arrived. Why?” San studied her face, his instincts telling him something was off. “We’re looking for someone—a young woman about your age. Have you seen her?”

The woman frowned slightly and shook her head. “I can’t recall anyone fitting that description. Is she from around here?” “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” San replied, his gaze briefly flicking to her hands, searching for a clue. But nothing seemed suspicious.

“Sorry,” she said with a small smile. “I hope you find her, but I can’t help you.” San nodded, though frustration gnawed at him. “If you see or hear anything, let us know. We’re staying at the inn.”

The woman nodded and turned back to the fish stall. San continued on, glancing back one last time. She seemed genuine.

Mingi’s Clumsiness

Mingi had retreated to a quiet corner of the village, where a few children were jumping rope. He kept his head low, trying to scan the area without drawing attention to himself.

When he caught a glimpse of a hooded woman slipping into an alley, he immediately gave chase. His long legs allowed him to nearly catch up, but as he rounded the corner, he crashed into a stack of crates and clumsily fell to the ground. “Damn it!” he shouted, inspecting the situation. The woman had disappeared, leaving behind only a group of children laughing at him.

Yeosang’s InsightYeosang strolled calmly through the central square, his eyes gliding over the crowd. Unlike the others, he was less interested in asking direct questions and more focused on observing.

It wasn’t long before he noticed something unusual: a girl wearing high-laced boots, with one pant leg rolled up just above the boot. who kept turning her face away whenever he looked in her direction. Her movements seemed too deliberate, as if she were trying not to be noticed.

He kept her in his sights but decided not to act immediately. “Let her think she’s safe,” he whispered to himself.

Later that evening

The inn buzzed with the sound of laughing men, the clinking of mugs, and the rattling of cutlery filled the room. In the shadows of the room, (y/n) moved with careful precision. Her hood partially covered her face, and she kept her movements subtle to avoid attention.

She had carefully prepared the stolen items: the compass, the ring, and the pouch of coins. Her goal was clear. The men would turn to the hunters, and she would slip away unnoticed in the chaos.

But what (y/n) didn’t know was that the eight men were watching her closely. Spread across the inn, they pretended to be relaxed, while their eyes followed her every step.

(y/n) approached the hunters' table. The group of rough men was loudly drinking, unaware of her presence. In one smooth movement, she dropped Mingi’s ring onto the table, followed by Seonghwa’s compass and Wooyoung’s pouch of coins.

She retreated to the bar and remained in the shadows, watching. The corners of her mouth curled into a sly grin. “Let the chaos begin,” she murmured to herself.

But across the room, Hongjoong almost imperceptibly nodded to his group. “She’s trying to turn us against them,” he said, his voice barely audible above the murmur. “We’ll play her game.”

Seonghwa stood up and walked straight to the hunters' table. His gaze was stern, and he extended his hand forward. “That’s my compass,” he said calmly, but with a threat that made the air tremble.

The leader of the hunters looked up, surprised. “Your compass? What do you mean?”

Wooyoung joined Seonghwa, feigning anger. “And my pouch of coins! You think you can just take everything here?”

The hunters looked at each other, confused. “We don’t have anything of yours,” one of them grumbled. “You’re seeing things, friend.”

The atmosphere in the inn shifted from tense to explosive as Hongjoong addressed the hunters directly. His voice cut through the murmur. “I think you have something that belongs to us,” he said, his gaze unyielding on the hunter with the compass.

The hunters turned around, surprised by the sudden accusation. “What are you talking about?” growled a broad man with a big and long beard. He set his beer down and squared his shoulders. “We don’t steal. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

San stepped forward, his hands loosely at his sides, but his eyes blazing with fury. “We know what we’ve seen,” he said. “You can hand it over now, or we’ll do this the hard way.”

The broad man let out a grim laugh and gestured to his companions. “The hard way, huh? Fine. We’re not afraid of a few travelers.”

The first blow came when one of the hunters, without warning, planted his fist squarely into Yunho’s jaw. The sound of the punch echoed through the inn, and within a second, chaos broke loose.

Wooyoung leaped over a table, his movements smooth and quick, as he grabbed another hunter from behind. Jongho shoved a different attacker forcefully against the wall, while Hongjoong remained calm, giving strategic orders.

Seonghwa fought with feline precision, dodging and moving toward retrieving the compass that the hunter still held firmly in his hand. Mingi, on the other hand, relied on brute strength. He lifted a heavy wooden chair and slammed it loudly onto the floor to intimidate an attacker.

In the midst of the chaos, (y/n) remained at the edge of the inn. She had shrunk into the shadow of a pillar, holding her breath.

(y/n) saw her moment when a table was knocked over, and the crowd moved to the other side of the room. The men were fully immersed in the fight, and no one paid attention to her. She felt her heart pounding in her throat as she slowly began to move toward the exit.

But just as she thought she could escape unnoticed, another hunter drew a knife and swung it toward Mingi. The action caught her attention, and without thinking, she dropped a serving tray onto the floor. The sound was loud enough to startle the hunter, causing him to freeze for a moment.

Mingi looked up in surprise, just in time to dodge the attack and gain the upper hand. But while everyone was focused on the incident, Yunho caught a glimpse of you moving toward the door.

Yunho’s sharp eyes flashed to the door. “She’s making a run for it!” he yelled, quickly moving forward. His voice echoed through the inn as he warned his companions. “San! Yeosang! Get her!”

He felt a sharp pain in his jaw, which had started swelling from the blow he had just taken in the chaos. But adrenaline completely disregarded the pain. Yunho stormed outside, with San and Yeosang right behind him. Jongho, who had just freed himself from an opponent, rushed to join them.

(y/n), hearing the pursuit, broke into a run. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she made her way through the dark alleys of the town. She zigzagged through narrow passages and jumped over low obstacles in an attempt to lose them.

“Faster!” San shouted at Yeosang, who took a short side path to cut (y/n) off. Jongho followed Yunho without hesitation, determined not to let her escape.

(y/n) quickly rounded a corner and found herself in a narrow alley. Her breathing was heavy, and her legs were burning from the effort, but she kept running. As she neared the exit of the alley, she heard footsteps behind her growing closer.

Suddenly, San appeared from a side street and grabbed her arm with a firm motion. “Got you!” he said triumphantly as he pressed her against the wall to stop her. (y/n) struggled, her sharp instincts working in overdrive, but San was too strong.

Within seconds, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho were there as well. They surrounded her, their heavy breathing mixing with the tense silence of the alley.

“Well, there you are, little girl,” Yunho said, gently brushing his painful, throbbing jaw. His eyes were dark, but there was also a hint of admiration in them. “We knew you were clever, but this is where it ends.”

(y/n) eyes flicked between the four men. She shifted her shoulders as if testing San’s grip, but he held her firmly. She felt the weight of the situation growing heavier.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice sharp, but with an underlying calm. you refused to let them see how fast your heart was racing.

“You know exactly what we want,” said Jongho, his deep voice filled with seriousness. “The truth. Why are you playing this game with us?”

Yeosang tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp. “We know you're the one who stole our things,” he said. “The question is... why? What are you trying to achieve?”

you bit your lip, your mind working at lightning speed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally, your voice filled with conviction. “You’re making a mistake. I’m just a farmer girl.”

San chuckled softly, but it sounded more like a warning. “A farmer girl who just happens to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Come on, we’re not stupid.”

“And those things? The compass, the ring, the coins... You placed everything just to set us against those hunters,” Yunho said. His tone wasn’t angry, but more calculating. “That was clever. Very clever. But now we win.”

#ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez ot8 #choi san #yeosang #mingi #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x y/n #yunho x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #san x y/n #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x y/n

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jeynearrynofthevale · 2 months ago

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What are you even supposed to do in this scenario?

#connor mcdavid #hockey #how to hockey #oilers #edmonton oilers #oilers lb #he's so quick and precise in his movements #it really is almost uncanny in the best way

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dmitriene · 3 months ago

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cw: visions of predator prey, innocence kink?

halloween with simon riley where you dress like an adorable red riding hood, it was a quick enough choice of costume, especially since simon doesn't really like to dress up, his work in the army is enough for him, so when you offered him to transform into a werewolf, which only requires a simple outfit, as well as already buyed ears and a tail, he didn't refuse.

he ain't a man that needs to play the role of a predator, he is one himself, the acting of a big, bad wolf coming to him naturally, greedy, opaque darkness of his eyes hides behind the mask and the sweep of his framing eyelashes, glancing at the flutter the little hem of your dress does, gentle, autumn breeze outside seems to be playing with your outfit under simon's gaze.

simon acts patiently in front of the public, clawed hands tugging at the fabric of his trousers all the time he's behind you, watching you just enjoy an easy walk, handing out sweets from a couple of bags that you just recently bought to the kids running by, smiling at them wide and sweet, giggling when they look warily behind your back, whispering about a scary man that stands there.

you lean a little lower to whisper in their ears that he's not a danger to them, because you were able to tame this wolf, and you're right, because all simon is focusing on right now is the way your breasts are squished together, visible from behind the round neckline decorated with ruffles, giving you an even more innocent look, and this time, his cock does throbs in the confiness of the pants, straining against his muscular, bulging thigh.

simon shows you exactly what a good wolf he is, pressing his sharp, drooling maw in the crook of your neck, huffing in your scent, a real dog, pounding in your pussy with deep, deliberate pumps of hips, filling you full, tummy bloating as you squeak hoarsely, pinned down splaying over the sheets, your ass bruised from his sloppy movements, fueled by lustfull ache that makes his fangs close around your pulse point, skin sensitive and thrumming wild, your gooey walls clutching his engorged cock tight.

you open your mouth obediently for him when he sticks a tongue in, licking over your teeth's, enjoying every little mewl and keen that pours out from your slack lips, his vulnerable, innocent girl, soppy hole stuffed full of him, milking the pulsing girth that jams against your spongy spot precisely, trembling legs giving out beneath you, leaving you jolting on the bed and accepting everything simon gives you.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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beautysamour · 1 year ago

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miguel accidentally overstimulating himself not realizing that his breeding kink kicked in 🤲🧎‍♀️

overstimulation with miguel o’hara ❤︎

— a/n: oh my

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: some vulgar language, mentions of having kids during sex

“Mi—Miguel,” you gasp out, wrapping your arms around his neck as he fucks you into the mattress, “‘s—‘s too much? Ah—are you oh—okay?”

You shudder in unison as he pumps another load of his cum into your drenched pussy.

“I’m fi—fine,” he stutters as his dick twitches. It hurts—he’s sensitive—but it’s not enough. He hasn’t given you enough.

A broken mewl escapes you as your head hits the headboard, Miguel tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from slipping off his cock as his hips stutter through his thrusts.

His visions blurs as you clench around his dick—he was surprised he was still able to move.

He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

You’re both covered in sweat, and cum, and saliva. You feel hot, the silk bedsheets Miguel bought does nothing to cool you down, and your head is spinning. Your heart pounds in your chest as your body tenses—you were about to cum again, and your pussy wanted to cry.

“Miguel,” you whimper, “‘m close, Miguel, ‘m close,” you whine. His dick deliciously rubs against your walls as he sticks his thumb into your mouth—your head hits the headboard.

“I know mami—me too.” Your head hits the headboard again, “Gotta fill you up again, don’t you want that? Gonna make you feel good, I promise mami, I promise.”

“Mig—“ he pushes his thumb down on your tongue.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good, mami,” he starts to babble, “Gonna feel so good.”

Somehow every movement he made was even more intense, you could feel every vein, every twitch, every—everything. He became more precise, every thrust ended with him hitting your g—spot, you were never sure if that was going to be the moment you came.

“Miguel—,” you babble, sucking his thumb. “‘m gonna cum, right there Miguel, I’m gonna—“

His thrusts became erratic, the feeling of your warm pussy engrains itself in his memory.

He’d definitely be going back to this memory.

“Wait for me mami, I’m almost there too,” he grabs one of your hands, bringing it close to his mouth, and he presses his lips against your wrist. “Gonna make you a mother, yeah?”

You bite his thumb.

He presses a hand against your stomach as the bed creaks, “Make me a father?”

His hips stutter as you moan around his thumb.

You avoid eye contact as he leans over you, the pure devotion in his eyes makes you feel tingles in your stomach—and make you feel even more of that in your pussy.

“Look at me when you come mami, pl—please. Need you too.”

You didn’t expect it to happen that quickly when you looked at him.

Miguel looks down at you with lust blown eyes, his hair drops down from his face, and his mouth hangs open—the hand holding your wrist shaking. He slowly thrusts into you as he came inside you—your own cum mixed with his leaking around his dick.

His chest goes up and down as he heavily breathes—fuck was he beautiful as always.

He dips his head pressing a quick sloppy kiss onto your lips, “You’re leaking.”

You laugh, “It’s your fault.”

You expect him to laugh, to take it as a joke and then pick you up to go take a relaxing bath and cuddle for the rest of night—but he doesn’t.

“Oh,” he purrs, “Well, I should fix my mistake, shouldn’t I?”

He drops your wrist and focuses on your left boob, he pinches your nipple—you moan softly.

You wince in unison when he starts to move his hips again, his free hand trailing down to your waist from your stomach, “Ha—have to make sure none of my cum goes to waste, right mami? Can’t risk you not getting pregnant.”

Tears weld in his eyes, your pussy hurts as you pulse around him. He lets out a weak breath, “You want me to cum in you again, right?”

Your head hits the headboard once more as he thrusts get stronger.

It hurts, you’re too sensitive, and you’re positive he is too—yet he’s right. You do want that, you want him.

With a broken, hoarse voice, you say “Yes.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #atsv miguel

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monstersholygrail · 23 days ago

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In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

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sweetshuga · 1 month ago

Text

「 ✦ 𝒃𝒔𝒇.ᐟ𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✦ 」

Your eyes focused on the movie playing, but your mind was obviously somewhere else, your breath hitched every few minutes as the movie progressed, hands gripping the blanket with such force that your knuckles were turning white.

Nick and Chris sat on the other side of the couch, Chris scrolling through his phone as Nick watched the movie playing on the TV—neither of them noticed the slight movement under the blanket you and Matt shared.

Matt’s fingers curled inside you, purposely rubbing your g-spot since he knew you were struggling to keep quiet, your eyes rolled back briefly from the sudden intense pleasure. His lips twitched at the corners with a small smirk when he heard the small whimper you let out.

"Shhh—sweetheart," he whispered, leaning slightly closer to you so he could move his fingers faster without making the blanket move too much.

You bit your lips, face almost buried in his shoulder in a futile attempt to hide your lewd expression that would immediately give away to your dirty little secret. You couldn’t believe the turn of events, one minute you were sitting and watching a horror movie with the triplets and the next Matt, your best friend, was fingering you under the blanket.

Tears of pleasure prickled at the corners of your eyes as Matt's fingers attacked your sweet spot with precision, unrelenting and merciless. You could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, and Matt seemed to have noticed it too, his digits quickening their pace.

Well, your walls were fluttering so much around his fingers—it would be stupid not to notice your impending release.

Quiet squelches sounded from under the blanket, and thankfully enough, the sound effects of the movie drowned out the wet noises. His thumb swiped over your slick clit, alternating between quick flicks and slow but forceful circles. The double stimulation proved to be too much for you and the taut bands snapped in your lower abdomen.

"Mmmfffp!" You accidentally let out a sound—which Matt quickly muffled with his free hand.

You were climaxing so fucking hard that your whole body trembled, hands clutching desperately at his arm as your pussy gripped his fingers, clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

Matt barely held back a groan, wishing it was his dick – your greedy cunt was sucking in – instead. He kept moving his fingers in and out of you slowly, prolonging your high, until your body finally relaxed against him.

His hand left your mouth and he slowly pulled his fingers out and wiped it on the blanket before briefly glancing at the other two if they noticed anything. Seeing that they were still paying attention to whatever they were doing made him let out a small sigh of relief.

Matt smirked slightly as he casually draped an arm around your shoulders, turning his attention back to the movie as if he didn’t just render you dumb on his fingers.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆.ᐟ | 𝒘𝒄 – 𝟒𝟖𝟑 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

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mariasont · 1 month ago

Note

im obsessed with reid’s hands. He’s got gorgeous long fingers its just🫶🏻😩. Id like to request a fic/blurbs whichever you prefer, revolves around that.. maybe he knows the reader loves his hands (especially when he cradles her face-neck and hair pulling).. nothing too spicy tho.. if you dont mind. Love your fics sm🥹

Where Hands Lead - S.R

a/n: i am also a victim to being desperately obsessed with spencer's hands! guilty af! and thank u so much babes i appreicate the love and the request <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: established relationship, hand kink, spencer being a smug little shit, domestic fluff, teasing galore, just two cuties being ridiculously in love!

wc: 1.6k

Spencer Reid's hands were a marvel. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you noticed them--maybe it was the day you saw him fiddling with a pen during a team meeting, his fingers deftly spinning it like he'd been born doing it. Or maybe it was the time he'd held out a hand to help you up after you got knocked on your ass after rough case, his long fingers wrapping around yours, pulling you to his feet. Whatever the moment, the realization hit you like a freight train: Spencer's hands were distracting.

Of course, you never said it out loud. Not at first. How do you casually tell your boyfriend that his hands are your newest fixation? You'd settled for sneaky glances, admiring the way his fingers moved over the keys of his computer or absentmindedly tapped against his thigh when he was lost in thought.

You thought you were being subtle.

But Spencer was sharper than you gave him credit for... and you gave him a lot of credit.

It started with small things. The way he'd catch you staring and tilt his head slightly, curiosity painting his features. Or how his lips would quirk into the barest smile when he'd reach for something near you and your gaze lingered a second too long. He'd never said anything, but you had the nagging suspicion he was onto you.

Then came the day he decided to test his theory.

It had been a rare quiet evening at his apartment. The team's latest case had wrapped up earlier than expected, leaving you both with an unexpectedly free night. Spencer, ever the perfectionist, had insisted on cooking dinner. You'd agreed easily, not-so-secretly thrilled at the prospect of spending uninterrupted tie with him. He'd shooed you out of the kitchen when you tried to help, insisting that you relax while he handled everything.

You were setting the table when it started. Spencer reached over to hand you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours. You glanced at him quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed the way your breath caught.

He had.

Spencer's expression didn't give away much--just the faintest quirk of his lips as he turned back to the counter. He began chopping vegetables, his fingers expertly curling and flexing around the knife. The movement was smooth, precise, almost hypnotic, and before you knew it, your eyes were drawn to them again.

"Everything okay over there?" he asked casually, not looking up. His voice was innocent enough, sure, but there was a certain lilt to it that made your cheeks heat.

"Fine," you replied, probably too quickly, forcing your attention back to the table. You busied yourself with arranging the plates, trying to will away the warmth spreading through you.

Spencer, however, wasn't finished with whatever game he seemed to be playing. As you moved past him to grab utensils, he shifted just enough for his hand to brush against the small of your back. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but it lingered just a fraction too long to be dismissed entirely. The warmth of it sparked along your spine, making your pulse leap in a way you couldn't quite explain.

What was wrong with you today? He was your boyfriend, for crying out loud. Casual touches like this were normal--expected, even. And yet, every brush of his fingers seemed to unravel you more. You cast a quick glance up at him, trying to gauge if he'd noticed your reaction, but Spencer simply smiled, his expression innocent, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

You clenched the utensils in your hand, suddenly desperate to shake off this fixation before Spencer figured out what was going on. The last thing you needed was for him to think you were completely crazy--obsessed with something as specific as his hands. Surely, that wasn't normal.

By the time you finally sat down to eat, your nerves were fully frayed. Flustered didn't even begin to cover it. Spencer, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He moved with his usually calm efficiency, placing food on the table with a soft smile. As he handed you a serving spoon, his fingers brushed against yours once again--warm, gentle, and far too distracting. You lingered a second longer than necessary, and while he didn't say a word, the subtle upward twitch of his lips suggested he notice.

Determined to pull yourself together, you focused on your plate. Or at least, you tried. Every movement Spencer made seemed designed to draw your attention. The way his long fingers curled around his fork, deliberate and precise, made your breath hitch. His index finger tapped lightly against the side of his glass as he considered something. Even the simple act of wiping his mouth with his napkin--slow, measured, maddeningly deliberate--seemed orchestrated to unravel you.

When dinner ended, you were quick to rise, eager to clear the table and escape the tight coil of your own thoughts. But Spencer was quicker. Before you could take a single step, his hand caught your wrist, fingers curling around you with just enough pressure to stop you in your tracks.

"I'll take care of it," he said, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist before letting go.

Normally, you would argue. He'd cooker dinner, after all--it was only fair that you clean up. But today left you rooted to the spot. You sank back into your chair, wordless, your gaze following him as he moved around the kitchen.

Spencer rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms, and your eyes betrayed you once again, drawn back to his hands. The way they worked was mesmerizing--graceful and efficient as he dried plates, stacked dishes, and wiped down the counters with practiced ease.

Spencer must have felt your gaze because he glanced over his shoulder, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. He didn't rush, taking his time as he finished tidying up. When he was done, he dried his hands on a dish towel, then set it aside before making his way back to you. His hands were empty now, but no less captivating.

Stopping in front of your chair, Spencer lowered himself to one knee, his eyes meeting yours. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Heat swelled to your face, mind scrambling for something--anything--coherent to say. "I--what?"

Spencer chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You're not as subtle as you think."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you.

"Next time," he continued, his thumb moving to brush against your cheek, his touch featherlight, "just tell me. I'd hate for you to sit there suffering in silence."

"I... don't know what you mean."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, is that right?"

You nodded quickly.

"So you wouldn't mind if I did this?" he murmured, reaching out to cup your cheeks with the utmost care.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, his thumb brushing slow, delicate arcs along your cheekbones. His fingers, long and steady, curled around the sides of your face, glueing you in place. Your breath hitched, the air between you thickening as your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Words failed you, leaving only the rapid thrum of your heart.

"Or this?" he added, voice softer now, almost a whisper. His fingers slid upward, tangling in your hair with a sort of practiced ease that sent sparks racing along your legs. He tugged lightly, just enough to tilt your head and pull a soft, involuntary gasp from your lips. The gentle pressure was intoxicating, and you bit down on your bottom lip, completely undone.

"Spencer..." you managed, though it barely passed a whisper. His name trembled on your lips, a plea and a confession all at once.

"Or this?" he continued, one hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. His fingers curled just slightly. Your pulse quickened, a fluttering sound that betrayed just how completely he had you in his grasp. Spencer leaned in closer, expression smug, lips moving into a smile that left you breathless.

"And what about this?" he added, voice dropped to a hushed murmur as his hand moved to tilt your chin upward. Before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, purposeful, and impossible to do anything but melt into. His hands moved back to cradle your face, fingers brushing against your jaw and the sensitive curve of your neck, their touch igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

When he finally pulled away, you felt like all the air had been vacuumed from your lungs, cheeks flushed and heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could here it.

"Yeah, um," you stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you struggled to regain your footing, "I don't think I mind... you could, uh, do it again if you wanted to."

Spencer's lips quirked into a slow, satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling. "Oh, is that so?"

He leaned in once more, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was slower, unhurried, as if he were savoring every second.

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, hands still cradling your face, he chuckled softly. "You know lucky for you, if my hands are your favorite thing about me, I've got two of them and all the time in the world."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll

join my taglist here!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

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mattsmedusa · 2 months ago

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✎ 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✮ 𝐜.𝐬 𝐰𝐜. 𝟏.𝟐𝐤 [𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭]

your boyfriend, chris, loved hearing your sweet noises of pleasure. he would do anything to hear you moan his name in that breathy tone, all drunk on his cock no matter where you were. he didn’t mind how loud you got, it only brought him more pleasure. well, you weren’t usually that loud in bed, you knew you’d get a noise complaint if you let your voice out completely, but you can’t really keep quiet when all he does is try to make you moan even louder.

"o—h, chris," you sighed shakily, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he slowly pushed inside. chris groaned lowly when he bottomed out, feeling your velvety walls pulse around his cock. he leaned down and nuzzled in your neck, his hands caressing your sides as he started to move. "y’feel so good baby, so fuckin’ beautiful," he murmured against your neck, kissing and nipping on the skin there.

chris being chris, with his hyper fixation with your moans, groaned in pleasure when he heard you moan so delicately, but he didn't want you to moan softly—he wanted you to scream his name. he wanted the whole neighborhood to know who was fucking you so good, who was making you feel so good. your eyes rolled back briefly when he started to pound into you, the tip of his cock mercilessly slamming into your cervix.

your eyes closed shut, eyebrows knitted together and back arching as profanities left your parted lips along with louder moans. chris relished in them. a shudder went down his spine when he heard you moan his name loudly when he hit a particularly spongy spot. he knew what he was hitting, he knew your body inside and out, after all.

"oh, did I find your sweet spot ma?" he cooed, tauntingly, before slamming hard into that spot again – purposely this time, making your back arch more, hands scrambling up to grip onto his forearms that held your hips in place on the bed. your whole body shuddered and trembled as he kept slamming precisely into your g-spot with a relentless pace, your moans nothing short of pornographic.

chris let out shaky low moans as he heard your sounds grow louder, his fingers working deftly on your puffy slippery clit, bringing you closer and closer to something earth-shattering. your eyes teared up in pleasure, already so fucked to say anything except "harder" and "faster". what could he do other than give you what you wanted? after all, he wanted it as much as your needy self.

the bedframe slammed against the wall in rhythm with his pounding, the bed creaking with each movement. your body rose up the bed with each thrust, making chris groan in annoyance. he wanted your body to stay still so he could fuck you harder just like you wanted, but with the way your body was bouncing it was near impossible, and so, he quickly thought of a solution.

you whined when he suddenly stopped and pulled out, "all fours, ass up, face down." he ordered, his voice breathless with unfulfilled desire and exertion. chris watched as you scrambled into position, presenting your backside to him, your face flush against the pillow. he let out a low whistle, "fucking love this view," he gave your ass a sharp slap before grabbing the flesh there with one hand and your hip with the other. you moaned into the pillow when he filled you up again.

his thrusts were punishing, exactly what you wanted as he surged forward with renewed vigor. chris couldn’t help but notice the way the pillow silenced your screams of pleasure.

oh, he was having none of that.

his hand left your ass and tangled in your hair, wrapping your locks around his hand before tugging your head up. your moans immediately filled the room, making his whole body shudder. your moans were music to his ears.

"fu—ck, chris, cumming, o—h," you mewled, "m’gonna—gonna cu—m." he grunted in satisfaction when he heard your desperate – barely coherent – words. "oh yeah? fuckin’ come on this big dick," one hand came down and around to draw quick circles on your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. "c’mon ma, wanna feel you fucking suffocate my cock." his voice was a near growl as he worked you closer and closer.

your body shook and trembled when you reached your peak, pure unadulterated pleasure etched on your features as you moaned his name. he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, not when you were moaning his name like that. you gasped when he pushed you down fully, your front side now flush against the mattress as he started to pound into you.

this was it. this was the position.

chris moaned lowly in pleasure when he heard your loud gasping moans, the way your legs lifted whenever he went balls deep only spurred him on. he fucked you mercilessly, and you couldn’t move away, you were trapped between his body and the bed. his hand yanked your head back by your hair so he could hear all the sounds you were making without it being muffled by the bed or pillow.

"fucking love your sounds baby, your sweet fuckin’ moans, only for me." he moaned in your ear, causing shudders to ripple through your body. you were fast approaching your second orgasm, the feeling of him going so deep and so fast was too much for you. his hand that was on your hair snaked around and wrapped itself around your throat. not quite cutting air supply, but enough pressure to have you gasping.

his free hand snaked under your body and strummed your bundle of nerves, the stimulation on your clit along with him repeatedly hitting your sweet spots deep inside you was your undoing. you let out high pitched keens and cries as you came again, your whole body shaking.

your pussy clenched around his cock rhythmically, all while pulling him in more. "f-fu—ck, your pussy’s fucking pulling me in, greedy girl," he groaned as he felt his release so close that he could practically taste it. a few more brutal slams and chris let out a guttural moan when he finally felt the pressure in his lower abdomen snap, his hips jerking against your ass as he filled your welcoming cunt full with his seed.

his hand soon left your throat, his breathing ragged, matching yours as his body slumped on top of you, his cock still letting out little spurts of cum inside your quivering pussy, painting your walls white. he nuzzled his face in the side of your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried to control his breathing.

after a while, he finally pulled out, both of you moaning at how sensitive you’d become. and almost immediately after he pulled out, his cum trickled out of your well loved hole. chris couldn’t help himself, he just had to take a picture. he took his phone from the bedside table and nudged you gently, showing you his phone. "can I?" he asked and you nodded, chuckling in amusement, still breathless.

he sighed in contentment after taking the photos and plopping down next to you, pulling you closer by your waist and nuzzling his face in your hair. "i love you," he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressed your body, worshipping every inch as you two lay there on his bed, relishing in the afterglow and love.

୨୧

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @chaossturns @mels4ngel @sturniolozbae @hearts4werka @strnilolover @matts-sidepiece

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misswynters · 2 months ago

Text

short drabble

Ekko and heimerdinger are being nerdy while you sleep

requested. by anon

There was always a soft hum of machinery that filled the air in Heimerdinger’s workshop. And with that accompanied by the occasional clink of tools and the professor’s enthusiastic ramblings. The workshop had an oddly calming atmosphere, a mix of glowing gadgets, bubbling contraptions, and the gentle warmth of lamp-lit light. It was perfect for dozing off, especially after a long day of following Ekko around Zaun.

You were sprawled out on the old, lumpy couch tucked in a corner of the workshop, your head cushioned by one of Ekko’s jackets that you’d claimed for yourself. Curled up against your side was your pet, a small, scrappy Zaunite fox. Its fur was a mix of gray and russet, with glowing green streaks running along its ears and tail. Ekko had found it injured near one of the Sump scrapers, and after some patching up, it had attached itself to you like glue.

Ekko called it “Scraps” (because of course he would), and Scraps was now peacefully snoozing, just like you.

Across the room, Ekko and Heimerdinger were huddled around one of the professor’s latest inventions, discussing something that involved words you didn’t fully understand.

“…but if you accelerate the core’s energy output without stabilizing the oscillation, it’ll implode,” Ekko said, gesturing animatedly at the device.

Heimerdinger adjusted his tiny glasses, nodding. “Precisely! Which is why you must ensure the harmonic calibrations are synced—ah, but don’t forget to account for temporal distortions.”

As the professor continued explaining, Ekko’s focus wavered. His gaze drifted toward the couch where you were sleeping, your form softly rising and falling with each breath. Scraps twitched its glowing tail but stayed nestled close to you.

A small smile crept onto Ekko’s face. You looked so peaceful, completely at odds with the chaos that usually surrounded you both in Zaun. Your hand was loosely tangled in Scraps’ fur, your other arm tucked under your cheek.

He didn’t notice the professor had stopped talking until Heimerdinger’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Ah, young love,” Heimerdinger said, his tone tinged with teasing amusement.

Ekko snapped his head back toward him, blinking. “Huh? What’re you talking about?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. “There’s no use denying it, dear boy. The way you’re looking at them, it’s rather endearing, really.”

Ekko’s ears burned. “I wasn’t—I mean, I was just—” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re asleep, alright? That’s all.”

Heimerdinger hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Still, allow me to impart some wisdom, as one who has witnessed countless romances blossom and wither over the centuries.”

“Oh no,” Ekko muttered, groaning.

Ignoring him, Heimerdinger continued, his voice taking on the tone of a well-meaning but meddling elder. “When courting a significant other, one must always show respect, patience, and attentiveness. Flowers are an excellent gesture, but so is active listening. Communication, you see, is the foundation of—”

“Professor,” Ekko interrupted, exasperated. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not—”

“Young people these days,” Heimerdinger said with a dramatic shake of his head, cutting him off. “Always so quick to dismiss advice. But mark my words: treat them well, or you’ll regret it!”

Before Ekko could retort, Scraps stirred, lifting its head with a sleepy yawn. The movement must’ve disturbed you because you shifted slightly, blinking groggily as the sound of their voices filtered through your half asleep haze.

“Mm… what’s going on?” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. Scraps hopped off the couch and stretched before circling back to your lap.

Ekko winced, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Firefly,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d given you. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Firefly—because you were always a little light in Zaun’s darkness, buzzing around him with endless energy.

You shook your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “It’s fine,” you murmured, scratching Scraps behind the ears. “What were you guys talking about?”

Heimerdinger perked up. “Oh, nothing of consequence!” he said cheerfully, though his smirk told a different story. “Merely enlightening young Ekko on the art of courtship.”

You blinked, then glanced at Ekko, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “Courtship?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Ekko muttered, shooting Heimerdinger a look.

The professor chuckled, his ears twitching. “Ah, youth. So easily embarrassed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Ekko’s expression, your earlier grogginess fading. “Well, did you learn anything useful?” you teased.

Ekko rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

He reached out, ruffling your hair gently before pulling his hand back. “For real, though. Sorry we woke you up. Want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the couch. “Nah, I’m good here. I like listening to you two talk.”

Heimerdinger beamed. “A kindred spirit indeed! Intellectual discourse is a joy to behold, is it not?”

Ekko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “And now you’ve encouraged him. Great.”

You just laughed again, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around you. Scraps let out a contented sigh, curling up in your lap, and Ekko plopped down on the couch beside you. His hand found yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go, his usual ease returning.

The three of you stayed in the workshop, for endless hours as the two nerds worked on their projects. Whereas you cheered them on at the sidelines with cute ol’ Scraps to keep you company. Especially when they would talk about all the science lingo that you did not understand. Even though ekko would sometimes explain it in more simpler terms. It didn’t quite go through your head. Needlessly to say you enjoyed the days you would spend at the workshop.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner. @anitalenia

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just-aake · 3 months ago

Text

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her.

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics.

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her.

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome.

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush.

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes.

She’s just being nice.

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you.

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment.

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor.

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.”

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare.

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks.

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip.

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock.

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?”

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly.

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen.

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.”

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin.

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around.

A delighted smile spreads across your face.

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?”

Natasha’s response is instant.

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.”

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words.

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure.

Tony watches with raised eyebrows.

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug.

“Do you want coffee or not?”

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.”

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady.

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room.

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you.

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes.

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.”

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.”

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse.

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics.

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly.

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze.

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I’m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.”

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile.

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect.

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her.

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look.

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?”

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?”

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly.

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear.

“Got it.”

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head.

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor.

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper.

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go.

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself.

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod.

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure.

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace.

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward.

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her.

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore.

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall.

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody.

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss.

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment.

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.”

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips.

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge.

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion.

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff.

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod.

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader

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ivy-elle · 3 months ago

Text

Kissing him out of nowhere

Feat. Scaramouche, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

Notes: gn!reader, established relationship

Scaramouche

Oh, he is fuming. Raging, even, as he storms into his office with a look far more infuriated than when he usually returns from a Fatui Meeting.

You glance up from the couch, where you’ve been immersed in some mission reports. “Good evening to you, too,” you greet him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten you into this sparkling mood today?”

For that, you immediately receive a glare so lethal, an average Fatuus would’ve dispersed on the spot. Your other eyebrow follows.

“Do you know,” he inhales sharply, the air around him crackling up with barely contained fury, “what it feels like to be stuck with people whose IQ competes with the temperature in Snezhnaya?”

Scaramouche carelessly throws his coat over the chair, followed by his hat. Every word is laced with venom. “If I have… to endure even one more second with this moronic excuse of a Harbinger-”

Seeing the gravity of his utter misery, you snap your folders shut, watching him pace across the room. He stops and leans back against his desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always my burden to be the only intelligent being in the room?”

“Hey,” you protest. You rise up, slowly making your way toward him.

He doesn’t look up. “Save it. You know precisely who I mean.”

“I might have an idea or two.” You are now standing right in front of him, noting the tense line of his shoulders and his agitated stance.

Scaramouche shakes his head in annoyance, ready to continue his tirade. Yet, the moment he looks up and opens his mouth you seize the opportunity and lean in, swallowing his next words in a quick kiss.

His eyes snap up, but you’re already drawing back again.

The words wither on his lips and his eyes flicker over your face, down to your mouth, and back to your eyes.

He doesn't take it exactly as an unwelcome gesture - simply a not calculated one. He should’ve known better by now.

You hide a satisfied smirk upon his silence and turn to head back to the couch.

But his hand immediately reaches out, grasping your wrist to stop your movement.

“Now,” he warns in a low voice, “where do you think you’re going?”

Scaramouche pulls you back in, and you stifle a laugh.

“We’re not done here.”

Childe

It is your very own kitchen, with your very own kitchen cabinets. With your very own utensils that you make sure to place in such an order you can always reach them comfortably.

So why, you wonder now, are your teacups suddenly on the highest level?

And why, you also wonder, is Childe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that shit-eating smug grin plastered on his face, while he watches you.

“That is not funny,” you snarl, hands pressed against the counter as you turn your head to him.

“Oh, agree to disagree, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, stepping forward to grab your favourite mug. With a satisfied wink, he lowers his arm and holds it out to you. The almighty saviour.

But just as your fingers are about to brush the handle, he pulls back, lifting it way up over your head.

Silence.

You slowly drag your gaze from where your teacup has just been dangling in the air, up to meet his eyes.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“You know I’m always up for that challenge.” He winks a second time. Your eyebrow twitches.

Despite his expectation of you lashing out or cursing him away, you remain perfectly calm.

And yet, it’s precisely this calmness – and the look you give him – that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He swallows.

You take yet another step closer, now close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from your skin.

Childe’s face shifts into a grin. “Oho?”

But it is when your lips brush against his own, that he succumbs to the very nature he is bound to and folds. He immediately leans in.

“You’re playing dirty,” he whispers lowly against your lips.

Your fingers trace up his arm, pulling it down along with your cup. “Is it working?”

Childe swallows again. His other hand wraps around your waist as his eyes darken. “That depends on what you’re trying to achieve exactly.”

Albedo

Your legs dangle down from the counter as you quietly study Albedo while he’s studying some of his research. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration while he reads through a stack of his research paper, checking over his hypotheses. He has one of those certain expressions on– the kind that makes your heart tingle in a very nice way.

Meanwhile, his other hand is resting on your knee, occasionally tracing soothing, invisible patterns that make your skin tingle in a very nice way.

You can’t help the smile blossoming on your lips.

“Just to recap once more- the material is reacting in the way I have predicted, and it also aligns with the experiences and sighting you come across in Sumeru, love. And yet-,” he lowers the paper sheets, looking up with a slight tilt of his head. “I believe I need to gather some more samples to ensure the data’s reliability.”

Albedo withdraws his hand from your knee and places it on his chin with a pensive expression. You could practically see the invisible math equations swirling around his head.

Following your immediate instinct, you lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you press a soft but heartfelt kiss on his lips.

He blinks. His gaze flicker over your face as his eyes soften.

The moment you redraw your hand, his immediately follows, gently wrapping around your wrist.

“Did I say something that fascinating that it earned me this honour?”

Fingers intertwining with his, you smile in a sheepish way. “Nope, just in a particular mood.”

“A good mood, I would hope.”

“Sure.”

Xiao

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that actually something different than Almond Tofu I am detecting in your hands.”

Xiao doesn’t blink, most definitely having sensed you approaching him long before you spoke. His eyes meet yours from the branch of tree he is settled in.

“It was an offer from the chef,” he explains, his tone gruff. Then he adds, a bit quieter. “I am not dependent on some tofu.”

Your lips twitch with amusement. “Are you sure? Could’ve fooled me.”

His time among people and other mortal beings must have really influenced him enormously, because you could swear, Xiao just rolled his eyes on you.

Despite his coarse demeanour, he shifts slightly to make space for you next to him on the branch. You place a foot on a lower branch, using it as a step to pull yourself up right beside him. There you eye the bowl in his hand. “Walnut soup?”

Xiao simply hums, taking another sip.

“It smells delicious. Can I try?”

His face turns to you, eyes flickering from your face to his soup. “Be my guest.”

He offers you the bowl, and just as he’s about to lift the spoon, you lean in, gently placing your lips against his.

Before he could properly register your movement – too distracted by your sudden closeness – you draw back, hiding a smile while he freezes up. “I get it now. It tastes even better.”

Heat rises up Xiao’s neck and climbs up to the very tip of his pointy ears.

As you lean back to savour the masterpiece of an absolute flustered Xiao, the adeptus quickly turns his head back to his food, carefully schooling his expression.

“Audacity of mortals…,” you hear him grumble under his breath. And yet, the rapid beat of his heart and the faint hue of red still lingering on his cheeks tell an entirely different story.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 9 months ago

Text

thing just ain't fittin'

captain john price

cw: pwp/smut, younger!reader (legal aged), size kink, shy!reader, female reader, finger-fucking, brief oral sex (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, breeding kink

bunny: *leaves this and goes running for the hills*

a sight to behold.

lips touched lips.

price was a maniac for your affection. and how much he wanted to cram every last inch into your sweet cunt. he wondered if it would fit, at almost eight inches he knew that it was hard to stuff it all in his pants. so to get it to fit into your tight heat was going to be another challenge.

so price had you on your back, you clung to a pillow on your chest as you moaned into it. you hid your face because you were just so shy. his lips were up against your neck as he finger-fucked you.

his facial hair brushed against your skin that felt like a live wire was being run across it. he could feel your quick pulse under his lips as he continued to attempt to loosen your cunt for his heavy cock.

when he got undressed and revealed his hard on to you, your eyes went wide and you gulped. you thought you knew what "almost eight inches" looked like, until it was pressed up against your face, your nose dipped into his dark pubic hair.

it wasn't fittin'.

so he laid you back on the bed and played with your sweet sex until you were soaked. he wanted to make sure that when he sank into your pussy, it felt good.

"that's my good girl." he purred, his cock stood at full attention.

"john." you croaked.

he chuckled, "don't worry, love. let me take care of ya. my sweet girl." he kissed at the shell of your ear, "so good for me. you like when i play with you like this." he tugged on it a little with his teeth, "tell me, love. how much do you like it?"

you clung to the pillow tighter and whimpered, it felt like you were being taken apart piece by piece. your wetness clung to your inner thighs. you replied, "it feels so good, john."

he calloused thumb grazed your clit and you jolted up. but he was quickly and kept your pinned to the bed by his forearm against your chest, "down girl." he chuckled.

the sounds of your wetness paired with your sweet moans filled your bedroom. your toes curled and you hole fluttered around his digits. you didn't even need to say in words how good it all felt. your brain was currently being melted by his touches.

and it wasn't even the main event yet.

"please, john. I think i'm ready!" you whined.

your older boyfriend chuckled, "i'm not takin' ya to the hospital because i was too big for my so much smaller girl." he pulled away to look at you. to monitor your expressions as he moved his fingers faster.

you tensed up as you hid your face once more. but he wasn't letting you hide for much longer. he pulled your head away from the pillow and held you hair as he examined your face. his pace was brutal.

"john! ah! fuck!" you whined.

he kissed your flushed cheek and said, "good girl. come around my fingers. i want to make sure you're as wet as you can get, love. i want to fit like a glove in you."

you replied, "maybe if you weren't so big we wouldn't have this problem."

he grabbed you by the face and turned you to face him. his expression seemed hard for a moment as he said, "you won't be complainin' once it's buried in ya."

his dominating demeanor was enough to make you orgasm. you clutched onto the pillow and came around his thick fingers. you swore you saw stars as you hit your peak.

price was pleased with himself as he pulled his fingers out of you, they glistened in the soft light of your bedroom. curiosity got the best of him as he licked your wetness off of his fingers. the sight of it in your heightened euphoria made your cheeks burn.

"only the best." he purred he licked his top lip before he got himself between your legs. his movements were slow but precise, like he had been practicing in his mind how to get himself to fit in you. he grabbed you by the thighs and had his face between your legs.

he shuddered when he got to taste you wet pussy. the slick clung to your lips as he gave them a gentle lick. his cock was painfully hard, if he didn't get into you soon he was going to finish all over the sheets.

and why would he do that? not when he has the most perfect, soaked pussy to fill up.

he panted as he took small breaks to catch his breathing. your wetness is in his facial hair. those blue eyes looked up from where he was before he dove back in.

"please, ah! john!" you whined.

he was certain you were overwhelmed with pleasure. he gave the top of your pussy a kiss, right over you cervix. he smiled as he kissed your soft skin. kisses mark the spot.

the spot he was going to finish on.

he wiped his mouth, he knew he'd have to wash his face afterwards. the taste of you lingered on him as he got between your legs and rested on his heels. his cock stood proud.

your brain was to riddled with pleasure that his cock looked a little less intimidating.

a big cock for a big man in charge.

while he didn't make you feel small in a bad way, sometimes the sheer size him had you feeling like a little delicate creature. it didn't help that almost an hour since you entered the bedroom, he was only now fucking you.

he grabbed the pillow from you and put it under your hips for leverage. he admired your sweaty body as his cock pushed into your pussy. the feeling of your tight cunt almost knocked the wind out of him.

you covered your face as you moaned. you felt so embarrassed by how good it felt. you couldn't believe it was all fitting in there.

"holy shit, love." he groaned. it came from the depths of his soul. he felt the sparks go off in his head as he managed to get inch after inch into you. eventually his heavy fuzzy balls were rubbing against you.

he had fit it all in you.

he placed a hand on your middle and rubbed it. his wishful thinking had him wondering if he could feel it in you. the heavy weight of his cock inside of his sweet girl's even sweeter pussy.

your cheeks burned, the room felt hot. but most of all you felt full. you were thankful that he was close to eight inches and not close to nine. you weren't certain there was enough space.

but you also knew that price would make it fit.

your older, more physically imposing boyfriend started to move his hips. your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the nudge of his length against where your pussy ended. it felt like it was past your uterus and was now just in your stomach.

"so small." he chuckled, his cheeks were stained pink, "but still you are such a good girl for me. i thought i was only gettin' the tip in. but i now know that your sweet little cunny can fit all of me."

you whimpered. while the pace wasn't particularly fast, every movements made shivers run through your body. you could feel it from your toes to the tip of your nose.

price admired you though. he watched as you squirmed to accommodate his movements. a thrill of possessiveness ran up his spine at the thought of how his cock could fit in you.

not that co-worker he hated, or the guy who bagged your groceries. or even the guy who cashed your pay stubs. only him, john price.

his pace began to pick up as he felt the pleasure cross up his spine. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned in to kiss you. he planted both hands on either side of your head as he thrusted into you.

your body moved against the bed and you held onto the covers under you. you moaned and whimpered against his kiss. it was music to his ears and it made him ache for more.

his good girl, who made him all fit inside of her. weren't you just the most perfect girl he could ever ask for. he only parted the kiss for a moment before he went in for another.

his cock felt so heavy. your hole fluttered around it, it was euphoria as he continued to move. the pleasure was filling both of your heads with heavy heat. his chest was soon pressed against yours as he held your thighs up to get as deep as he could get.

you panted heavily between moans. you tried to meet his pace without thinking. your eyes were hazy. the pleasure was intense, you let you boyfriend take control however he saw fit.

"my girl."

"yes."

you were the first to climax. the pleasure built up in your gut once more and you clenched around him as you let out a high pitched noise from the intensity of the climax.

price held you legs open further as he continued to thrust into you. your wetness costed all the way to his balls by the time he was giving his last few thrusts.

"good girl." he groaned, "lettin' me fill her up." then held onto your thighs as he finished in you.

for a moment you wondered if you took your birth control today. but in all honesty, it was a little too late for that. price was certainly not firing blanks.

his cock didn't grow soft after he finished. instead it fueled a new fire in him. now that he knew he could fit inside of you, how many loads would it take to fill you to the brim.

your brain was blank as he moved you to the next position.

by the end of the night, you were covered in sweat and your middle was a little firmer from the amount of captain john price's seed was inside of you.

even if you tried to get plan b in the morning, there wasn't enough of it in the world to protect you from the sheer amount of cum there was inside of you.

oops. <3

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elikajinnie · 4 months ago

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Hate Is A Strong Word - N.R

P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X fem!reader

Synopsis: You never imagined that the picture perfect Slytherin would like you

Warnings?: Fluff, Misunderstandings, bullying (not from N-ki). Insecurities.

a/n: So this is the start of my Hogwarts au for each of the members. Ni-ki is the first one out! :D The next one will be Jake!

masterlist

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As the heavy oak doors of the Transfiguration classroom creaked open, you walked in alongside your friend Leeseo. The room, illuminated by large arched windows that allowed beams of sunlight to dance across the stone floor, was already buzzing with the chatter of students.

Leeseo nudged you gently, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I heard today’s lesson is going to be something really challenging,” she whispered, her excitement barely contained. You nodded, sharing her eagerness. Transfiguration was one of the most fascinating subjects at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall’s classes were always a blend of rigorous discipline and awe-inspiring magic.

As you took your seats, you glanced toward the front of the classroom. There, standing tall and composed by the blackboard, was Professor McGonagall. Her stern yet kind eyes surveyed the room, ensuring everyone was settled. With her wand in hand, she exuded an air of authority and wisdom, her emerald robes flowing gracefully around her.

The murmurs gradually subsided as McGonagall stepped forward, her presence commanding your attention. “Good morning, class,” she began, her voice clear and steady. “Today, we will be advancing to human transfiguration, a complex and delicate branch of magic that requires utmost precision and concentration.”

The mention of human transfiguration sent a ripple of excitement and nervousness through the room. You exchanged a quick, thrilled glance with Leeseo. This was the kind of magic that defined wizardry, the intricate spells that transformed the very essence of matter.

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and the blackboard behind her filled with neat, precise instructions and diagrams. “Now, before we begin, I must remind you of the importance of practice and control. Improper transfiguration can have… unintended consequences.” Her eyes swept the room, emphasizing the seriousness of her words.

With a final nod of understanding, you prepared your wand and opened your textbook to the designated chapter.

After Transfiguration, your day continued with a series of classes, each filled with the usual hustle and bustle of student life at Hogwarts. Charms was lively as always, with Professor Flitwick’s enthusiastic instruction keeping everyone engaged. Herbology followed, where you worked in the greenhouse, learning about magical plants and their properties.

As the day wore on, you eventually made your way to the dungeon for Potions class. The air grew cooler and the corridors darker as you descended, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You and Leeseo entered the dimly lit classroom, settling into your usual seats near the middle. Around you, your classmates were chatting in low tones, the anticipation palpable.

The door swung open with a dramatic flair, and Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. The room fell silent instantly, every student turning their attention to the formidable Potions Master. Snape’s presence commanded a certain respect—or perhaps fear—that was undeniable.

“Today,” Snape began, his voice a silky drawl that carried a hint of menace, “you will brew a Veritaserum.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the class. “A truth potion, which when correctly brewed, will compel the drinker to reveal their innermost secrets.”

He moved to the front of the classroom, where a cauldron was already simmering. With precise, deliberate movements, he began demonstrating the brewing process, adding ingredients with a practiced ease. His every action was fluid, almost mesmerizing, and you found yourself taking meticulous notes, your eyes darting between the instructions in the textbook and Snape’s methodical demonstration.

“Take care to follow the instructions exactly,” Snape intoned, his dark eyes sweeping the room. “Any deviation could render the potion useless… or worse.”

He finished his demonstration and stepped back, crossing his arms. “I have set up each of you with a partner, so I expect you all to work together,” he announced. The room buzzed with curiosity as you waited for your name to be called.

One by one, Snape called out the pairings. Leeseo was partnered with a Gryffindor student, and soon your name came up. “You will be working with Nishimura Ni-ki,” Snape declared.

You glanced over at Ni-ki, a Slytherin student known for his cunning nature and sharp intellect. Your eyes met briefly before he stood up and walked toward you, his expression neutral. He took the seat beside you, and for a moment, you simply looked at each other, assessing.

“Shall I cut and you brew?” Ni-ki asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded in agreement. “That sounds good.”

With a silent understanding, you both began your task. Ni-ki’s hands moved deftly, slicing ingredients with precision and efficiency, while you focused on the careful process of brewing, ensuring each step was followed meticulously. Though you didn’t converse much, there was an unspoken coordination between you, a shared goal that drove your efforts.

The potion started to take shape, its color gradually shifting as you added each ingredient in turn. Ni-ki’s sharp observations and quick corrections were invaluable, and you found yourself appreciating his expertise despite your limited interactions.

As the final stages approached, the potion glowed a soft, silvery hue, indicating you were on the right track. Snape prowled the classroom, occasionally stopping to observe or comment on various pairs’ progress. When he reached your desk, he paused, scrutinizing your work with his usual critical eye.

“Acceptable,” he murmured, giving a slight nod before moving on. It was high praise coming from Snape, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

After you and Ni-ki finished brewing the Veritaserum, you let out a quiet sigh of relief and settled back into your seat. The potion simmered gently, its translucent glow a sign of your successful collaboration. With the class winding down, you pulled out your notebook and began doodling absentmindedly, your mind drifting.

Ni-ki, meanwhile, was meticulously sorting out the remaining ingredients. You stole a quick glance at him, curiosity getting the better of you. His recently dyed light hair hung in front of his eyes, accentuating his piercing stare. Despite his cold demeanor, there was an undeniable intensity in his gaze that seemed to see right through people. His robes fit him perfectly, the black fabric contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. The Slytherin badge, neatly stitched into his robes, was complemented by the prefect badge pinned just beside it, a testament to his standing and discipline.

You had to admit, even if only to yourself, that Ni-ki looked good. There was something striking about him, an aura that was hard to ignore. But you would never voice this thought out loud. You admired him quietly, keeping your appreciation to yourself. Despite his coldness, he wasn’t like some of his fellow Slytherins who resorted to bullying and teasing. No, his crime was different—he was aloof, detached, and seemingly emotionless. He was an enigma, always keeping to himself and his close-knit group of peers.

As you doodled, you found your thoughts wandering. What was Ni-ki hiding behind that expressionless face? What would it be like to see him smile, to see his features soften with joy? Did he ever feel sadness, and if so, did he let himself cry? These questions swirled in your mind, each one deepening the mystery that was Ni-ki.

Before you could ponder further, the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor signaled the end of class. Snape’s curt dismissal barely registered as you blinked, realizing how lost in thought you had become. You looked up to find that Ni-ki had already stood up and left, leaving behind a spotless workstation. The ingredients were neatly put away, the table wiped clean. In your daydreaming, you hadn’t even noticed him tidying up.

As you left the Potions classroom, the dark and cool dungeons faded behind you, but your thoughts lingered on Ni-ki. You shook your head, trying to clear the lingering questions that kept popping up about him. It wasn’t like you cared—he was distant and cold. But the fact that he cleaned up without saying a word or asking for acknowledgment—it was almost… considerate. Strange for someone like him.

You walked down the stone corridor, heading toward the next class with Leeseo catching up to you. “How was it working with Ni-ki?” she asked, her voice light and curious.

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “He’s efficient. Doesn’t talk much.”

Leeseo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Efficient? That’s not the word I expected you to use.” She grinned playfully, nudging you. “You didn’t bicker, did you?”

You rolled your eyes. “We didn’t even speak much, to be honest. He just… does his part and leaves. Not much else to say.”

“Classic Ni-ki,” she mused, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of impressive that you got to work with him. He’s got a reputation, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” You kept your voice light, trying not to dwell on the fact that you had spent the better part of Potions class analyzing the guy instead of just brewing the potion. “It’s just one class though. Nothing special.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but wonder why he kept himself so closed off. There was a quiet confidence about him, yes, but also a wall that he didn’t seem to let anyone through. It made him mysterious, sure, but also frustrating. What was he hiding? Or was it just his nature, plain and simple?

Leeseo and you reached the courtyard, the cool autumn air refreshing after the confined dungeon. You tilted your head up, letting the breeze rustle through your hair, trying to shake off the distraction that Ni-ki had become in your thoughts.

“Well, he’s not bad-looking,” Leeseo added with a grin, catching you completely off guard.

You nearly choked on air, throwing her an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

She laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, you can’t deny it. He’s got that whole mysterious, brooding Slytherin thing going on. You’d be blind not to notice.”

You groaned, tugging your scarf tighter around your neck as you continued walking. “I don’t need any more distractions, thanks. We have enough on our plate with the upcoming exams and essays.” You tried to steer the conversation away, not wanting to admit that, yes, Ni-ki was ridiculously good-looking. Admiring him from afar was one thing, but beyond that? Absolutely not.

Leeseo just smiled knowingly, but thankfully, she let the topic drop as you made your way to the next class. Still, as the day went on, Ni-ki’s expressionless face, his precise movements, and the way his hair fell over his eyes refused to leave the corners of your mind.

You sighed to yourself. This was going to be harder to ignore than you thought.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It all really started one afternoon at the library when you were tucked away at your usual table near the back, surrounded by textbooks and parchment. You were completely immersed in your reading when you noticed a shadow fall across the table.

Looking up, you saw him—Nishimura Ni-ki.

Without a word, he pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down. No greeting, no explanation, just the soft sound of him placing his books on the table. He didn’t meet your eyes, didn’t acknowledge your surprised expression. Instead, he opened his own textbook and began reading, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to sit there.

You blinked, taken aback. For a moment, you considered asking him what he was doing. After all, it wasn’t as if the library was short on tables, and Ni-ki wasn’t exactly known for being social with anyone outside of his Slytherin circle. But instead, you tried to focus on your work, convincing yourself that he’d leave soon enough.

But he didn’t.

He stayed, flipping through pages, scribbling notes in his neat, precise handwriting. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you—just sat there, quietly doing his own work. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him, confused by his presence. Why was he here, sitting with you, of all people?

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t hold back any longer. "What are you doing?" you asked, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing Madam Pince’s ire.

He didn’t look up from his book. "Studying," he replied, his tone clipped and direct.

You raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. But why here?"

For the first time, he looked up, meeting your eyes with that same unreadable expression he always wore. "Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, his voice steady.

You hesitated. He wasn’t being rude, exactly, but the way he spoke made it clear he didn’t think he needed to explain himself. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t worth pushing further. "No," you muttered, turning back to your own notes.

And so the pattern began.

Each time you came to the library, Ni-ki would show up not long after. Sometimes he arrived before you, already seated at the same table, as if claiming it before you could. Other times, he’d stroll in after you’d settled down, take his seat across from you, and dive into his work. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were always short, almost dismissive. It wasn’t that he was unkind—just distant, like there was no need for conversation.

"Why do you keep sitting here?" you asked one day, after he’d settled into the chair across from you for what felt like the hundredth time.

He didn’t even look up. "It’s quiet," he answered simply, continuing to write in his notebook.

You frowned, not satisfied with the answer. "There are other tables. You could sit anywhere else."

"True." He glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting yours before flicking back to his book. "But I’m sitting here."

That was all he said. No further explanation, no invitation for more questions. Just a simple, matter-of-fact statement that left you feeling more confused than before.

It wasn’t like he was helping you with your work, either. He didn’t offer advice, didn’t join in on any discussions about the material you were studying. He was just… there. A quiet presence that made you hyper-aware of his every movement, even though he barely acknowledged you. It was unnerving at first, but over time, you began to expect it—Ni-ki would be there, silently doing his own thing while you tried to focus on yours.

There were moments when you found yourself glancing at him more than you should have. His hair, still that light shade, would occasionally fall in front of his eyes, and he’d push it back with a practiced motion. His fingers moved with such precision as he wrote, and his posture was always so composed, like he never let himself relax fully.

And yet, despite the quiet, there was something oddly comforting about his presence. It was strange to admit, but in the silence of the library, having him across from you became… familiar. Predictable, even.

Still, the lack of interaction left you with more questions than answers. Why sit with you every time if he had no intention of talking? What was he gaining from it? Was it simply convenience, or was there something else going on that you couldn’t see?

One afternoon, after another long stretch of silent studying, you finally broke the quiet. "You don’t have to sit here, you know."

He paused, his quill hovering over the parchment. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words. "I know," he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. "But I am."

And with that, he went back to his work, leaving you with nothing but the steady scratch of his quill and the growing confusion swirling in your mind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the weeks passed, Ni-ki’s quiet presence at your table in the library became something you began to anticipate. It was no longer surprising when he pulled out the chair across from you, settling in without a word. At first, it had unnerved you—the silent way he occupied the space, his sharp focus on his own work, and the fact that, outside these moments, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. But now, somehow, you didn’t mind it.

In fact, you found yourself looking forward to it. His quiet company had a strange, calming effect, as if the library wasn’t truly complete without him sitting across from you. You had started to expect him there, so much so that on the rare occasions when he wasn’t, you couldn’t help but feel a little off-kilter, like something was missing from the day.

It wasn’t that the two of you had grown closer, at least not in the usual sense. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were brief and to the point. He offered no opinions, no conversation starters—just an occasional glance in your direction, sometimes a quiet nod. And yet, you had grown accustomed to the silence between you, a silence that felt oddly comfortable.

But the strange thing was, beyond these quiet library sessions, it was as if Ni-ki didn’t know you at all.

In classes, he barely looked your way. If he did speak to you, it was only because the lesson demanded it—when he was your partner for a potion, or during group work in Transfiguration. His responses were always curt, efficient, like he was checking off a box before returning to his own tasks. You would pass each other in the corridors, or see him in the Great Hall, always surrounded by his Slytherin friends, and it was like you didn’t exist. Not a glance, not a nod, nothing to suggest he even knew you.

It puzzled you to no end. You weren’t sure if it bothered you or just left you more curious. Why go out of his way to sit with you in the library if he had no interest in interacting with you elsewhere? It wasn’t like he needed help with his studies—Ni-ki was brilliant in his own right. And it wasn’t like you were friends, either. In fact, you had hardly spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other since you first started sharing a table.

You found yourself wondering more and more why he bothered. Why, out of all the places in Hogwarts, did he always choose the spot across from you? Why did he sit with you, week after week, without saying much of anything, only to act as if you didn’t exist the moment you left the library?

But you didn’t dare ask him. For one thing, Ni-ki was rarely alone. He was almost always surrounded by his Slytherin friends—usually fellow prefects or others from his house, most of whom carried an air of superiority that reminded you why you kept your distance from most of them. There was never a convenient moment to pull him aside, and even if there were, you couldn’t imagine what you’d say.

And then there was the other part of you, the part that didn’t exactly want to know the answer. What if it was something you didn’t want to hear? What if the reason was as simple as convenience, or worse—what if there was no reason at all? What if, to him, you were just a tablemate, nothing more?

You’d often catch yourself glancing over at him during Potions or in the Great Hall, trying to make sense of him. His friends would be laughing or talking among themselves, and there Ni-ki would be, sitting quietly, his expression unreadable, completely detached from whatever conversation was happening around him. You wondered if he was the same with them—distant, aloof, only speaking when necessary.

Sometimes you’d catch his eye, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something—maybe recognition, maybe nothing at all. But then, he’d look away, and the moment would pass as quickly as it came.

It became a kind of ritual—this quiet routine in the library, these fleeting moments of wondering. You couldn’t deny the growing curiosity, though. Why did he choose you, out of everyone he could have sat with? And why did it seem like he was perfectly fine with just… existing alongside you, never crossing the invisible line that separated the two of you?

You wished you had the courage to ask him. But each time you considered it, you reminded yourself of who he was—Nishimura Ni-ki, Slytherin prefect, sharp-tongued and unreadable. He wasn’t someone you could just ask a simple, casual question and expect an answer that wouldn’t make you regret it.

And besides, maybe it was better this way—better to leave the mystery unsolved than to shatter the quiet routine you had somehow built with him.

Even your friends began to notice. Leeseo had raised her eyebrows the first time she saw Ni-ki sitting with you in the library, but she hadn’t said anything beyond the occasional teasing. “Your silent study buddy’s here again,” she’d say with a wink when she caught him at the table. “You two make quite the pair.”

You always brushed it off, rolling your eyes at her remarks. But deep down, a part of you wondered if she saw something you were missing. Was there more to Ni-ki’s presence than what you had convinced yourself to believe?

It was during one of those quiet afternoons, with parchment spread across the table and the soft scratch of your quill filling the silence, that you found yourself thinking about it more than usual. Why, out of all the students at Hogwarts, did he choose to sit with you? Surely, he had plenty of friends or places he could have gone. And more importantly, why did he never talk to you outside of the library?

Your eyes flicked up to Ni-ki, who was seated across from you as usual, engrossed in a large, ancient-looking tome. His light hair fell over his forehead, slightly tousled from the breeze outside. He looked calm, composed, and completely at ease, as if this had been his routine for years.

A question hovered on the tip of your tongue, one you had been pushing aside for weeks now. But before you could find the courage to ask, Ni-ki suddenly closed his book with a soft thud. You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and he stood up, gathering his things with that same quiet precision.

He looked at you, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. For a second, you thought he might say something, but instead, he gave a slight nod—his usual, silent goodbye. Without a word, he turned and left the library, his footsteps soft against the stone floor.

You watched him go, feeling that familiar, quiet emptiness settle in his absence.

What you didn’t know was that, in Ni-ki’s mind, a storm was brewing. A quiet turmoil, hidden beneath his calm exterior, had begun to take shape, and it was all because of you. He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain focus, to keep his thoughts clear and his goals straightforward. But lately, you had become an unexpected variable in his otherwise predictable life.

At first, he had taken little notice of you. You were just another student, one among many who populated Hogwarts. But then, slowly but surely, that indifference had shifted to something else—curiosity. He began to notice the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you studied, the way your lips would curve into a small smile when you finally grasped a particularly tricky concept. There was something intriguing about your determination, something that pulled at the edges of his awareness.

As he continued to share those quiet moments in the library with you, he found himself observing you more intently. He noticed the small things: how you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought, how your expressions shifted subtly as you worked through problems. You were a puzzle he hadn’t expected to encounter, and with each encounter, the mystery deepened.

But it didn’t stop there. What began as a mild curiosity morphed into confusion. Ni-ki couldn’t quite articulate it, but there was something compelling about you—something that made you linger in his thoughts long after he had left the library. Why did your laughter echo in his mind? Why did he find himself glancing in your direction during meals, seeking you out in the crowded Great Hall, even when he was surrounded by his friends?

It was disconcerting, to say the least. He was known for his stoic demeanor, for being the type of person who kept his emotions in check. Yet, here he was, caught in an unyielding tide of thoughts about someone he had initially dismissed. It was frustrating, and a little alarming. He was supposed to be focused on his studies, on his role as a prefect, on maintaining the reputation he had carefully crafted. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that there was something deeper to explore with you?

Every time you caught his gaze across the Great Hall or shared a fleeting moment in the library, the storm would build inside him—curiosity colliding with confusion, a need to understand you battling against the fear of opening up. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if this was all one-sided, and he was just a distant presence in your life? The idea sent a jolt of uncertainty through him.

Ni-ki’s friends began to notice his distraction. They would tease him about how often he seemed to lose focus, how he would sometimes pause mid-conversation, his eyes drifting off to the side as if searching for something—or someone. But he brushed their remarks aside, masking his inner conflict with indifference.

He found himself wrestling with a mounting desire to approach you, to understand the enigma you represented. But every time he would gather the courage to break that silence, to say something more than the necessary exchanges during class, he hesitated. The distance between you felt both comforting and suffocating.

It was a confusing dichotomy, and Ni-ki was left to navigate his own feelings in silence, unsure of where this newfound intrigue would lead him. All he knew was that every time he sat in front of you in the library, the storm inside him would shift—pushing him closer to the edge of wanting to reach out, even as fear held him back.

He didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know why he kept coming back, why he couldn’t stay away, even though he knew that sitting there, in silence, only made things more complicated.

But he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want to. He just needed to figure out how.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It started gradually, almost imperceptibly. The silence between you and Ni-ki began to shift, not in any overt way but in small moments that made it feel… less heavy. The library sessions continued as they always had, with Ni-ki sitting across from you, his head bent over his books, while you quietly worked on your own assignments. But there were times now when you found yourself speaking.

It started off with casual remarks. Maybe it was the stress of exams or the overwhelming workload that had you venting aloud, but Ni-ki never seemed bothered by it. He didn’t offer much in return—just a short nod or a quiet hum of acknowledgment—but he listened.

One evening, after a particularly difficult day, you couldn’t hold back anymore. "I just don’t get it," you muttered, staring at your Transfiguration textbook in frustration. "No matter how much I study, I can’t seem to get this right. And McGonagall keeps assigning more complex material like it’s nothing."

Ni-ki looked up, his eyes flicking to the page you were stuck on before settling back on your frustrated expression. He didn’t say anything, just kept watching you with that same quiet intensity you had grown used to.

"And," you continued, feeling a strange comfort in speaking your thoughts aloud to him, "there’s this Slytherin who won’t stop picking on me. Every time I pass by them, it’s like they have to make some snide comment or knock my bag off my shoulder. It’s ridiculous." You sighed, shaking your head. "But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes."

Ni-ki’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. You didn’t expect a response; you were just letting off steam. Somehow, Ni-ki’s silent presence always made it easier to say the things that were weighing on you. You could talk to him without fear of judgment or interruption. He just listened, and that was enough.

The next day, something changed. The Slytherin student who had made it their mission to irritate you suddenly stopped. They no longer sneered at you in the halls, no longer made rude remarks or tried to provoke you. In fact, they seemed to go out of their way to avoid you altogether. You didn’t understand why, but you weren’t about to complain.

And then, there was the folder. It appeared during one of your classes, a neatly organized folder filled with notes on every subject you had been struggling with. The handwriting was unmistakable—precise, clean, and undeniably Ni-ki’s. The notes were thorough, covering all the topics you had mentioned having trouble with. It was as if he had gone out of his way to compile everything you needed to help you catch up.

You didn’t know how to react at first. Gratitude and surprise warred within you as you thumbed through the pages, recognizing the meticulous effort that had gone into writing them. Ni-ki hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t even hinted that he was going to help you like this. He had just quietly, and without fanfare, made sure you had everything you needed.

The next time you saw him in the library, you didn’t hesitate to thank him.

"Ni-ki," you began softly, looking up from your books to meet his gaze. His head lifted slightly, acknowledging that he was listening. "Thank you—for the notes." Your voice was sincere, full of the appreciation you felt. "I really didn’t expect it, but it helped a lot."

He didn’t say anything in return. He just nodded once, his face remaining as impassive as ever, as if this grand gesture was nothing out of the ordinary. For Ni-ki, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was just how he operated—helping silently, without drawing attention to it, without expecting anything in return.

But for you, it meant something. A lot, actually. It was a reminder that beneath Ni-ki’s cold exterior, there was more to him than he let on. His actions spoke louder than any words could, and though he kept his distance in almost every other part of your life, in these quiet moments, he was closer than anyone.

And so, you didn’t ask what had happened with the Slytherin who had suddenly stopped bothering you. You didn’t ask why Ni-ki had gone through the trouble of writing those notes for you or why he had stayed by your side all this time in the library. Because somehow, you knew. This was just Ni-ki’s way—silent, unspoken care hidden behind his cool exterior.

And that was enough for now.

One evening, during one of your usual study sessions in the library, you were stuck. The upcoming exam loomed over you, and no matter how many times you read the same question, the answer refused to reveal itself. You sat there in silence, frustration building as you stared blankly at the page in front of you.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of parchment and soft footsteps in the distance. Ni-ki sat across from you, as usual, his head bent over his own work. The silence between you two was comfortable by now, and you didn’t expect it to be broken anytime soon. You sighed, trying to push through the mental block that had settled over you.

Then, you heard movement—a soft rustling. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki standing. For a moment, you thought he was leaving, and disappointment bloomed unexpectedly in your chest. You looked back down, resigned to continuing your struggle alone, but then something surprising happened.

You felt the faint shift of air and the quiet creak of the wooden bench, startled, you turned your head and found him sitting right next to you. His presence was closer than it had ever been during these sessions, and it made your heart race for reasons you didn’t entirely understand.

"Where are you stuck?" Ni-ki asked, his voice soft but clear. There was no trace of his usual distance, just a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

Blinking, still mildly in shock from the sudden change in his behavior, you pointed at the question that had been giving you trouble. You half-expected him to glance at it, make some passing comment, and return to his seat. But instead, Ni-ki leaned in slightly, examining the material with a focused expression.

He began speaking, his voice calm and smooth as he explained the concept in clear, concise terms. There was a quiet assurance in the way he spoke, his words precise and easy to follow. He wasn’t just repeating the textbook either—he was breaking it down in a way that made it understandable, relatable even. You listened closely, hanging onto each word, and slowly, like fog lifting from your mind, the confusion began to clear.

With each sentence Ni-ki uttered, the material started to make sense. What had seemed impossible moments before was now manageable, the concepts clicking together as he guided you through the steps. His voice had a soothing quality to it, calm and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to sit with you and explain.

You found yourself glancing at him occasionally, taking in the way his eyes stayed fixed on the book, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he worked through the material with you. There was something unexpectedly gentle about the way he spoke, something that contrasted with the cold, distant persona he usually kept up. And in this moment, sitting side by side in the dim light of the library, it was hard to remember why you had ever thought of him as distant at all.

When he finished explaining, you stared at the page for a moment, absorbing the new understanding. It felt like a weight had lifted, and for the first time in hours, you felt a surge of confidence that maybe—just maybe—you could actually manage this exam.

"Does that make sense now?" Ni-ki asked, his voice still soft.

You nodded, almost dazed. "Yeah… it does. Thanks."

He didn’t say anything in response, just gave a small, barely noticeable nod before settling back into his seat, returning to his own work as if nothing unusual had happened.

But something had shifted between you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, but the air felt different now—less like the quiet companionship you had grown used to and more like… something else. Something unspoken.

You sat there for a few moments longer, still processing both the study material and the fact that Ni-ki had just sat next to you, helped you. He hadn’t done it begrudgingly either; he had simply done it because you needed help. And his presence, his voice, had made all the difference.

As you returned to your notes, you couldn’t help but glance at him again, wondering what other sides of Ni-ki lay hidden beneath the surface.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

One evening, after hours of studying and flipping through books, you found yourself exhausted. Your eyes were burning from reading the same passage over and over, and you sighed loudly, resting your head on the table. Ni-ki glanced up from his work, giving you a quizzical look.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, almost concerned.

You nodded, not lifting your head. “Yeah. Between Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology, I feel like my brain is going to melt.”

There was a pause before you heard him shifting in his seat. “Potions is your weakest subject, right?”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t like Ni-ki to make small talk, and the fact that he remembered your struggles in Potions caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” you admitted, sitting up straighter. “It just doesn’t click for me like other subjects do.”

Ni-ki seemed to consider this for a moment before responding, “I used to be terrible at Potions too. In second year, I once brewed a Sleeping Draught that knocked out half the class. Snape wasn’t pleased.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping you. “No way! You, bad at Potions? I can’t believe it.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.”

Another time, while working on your Charms essay, you noticed Ni-ki was unusually quiet—even for him. He wasn’t reading or writing, just sitting there, staring at his open textbook with an intense focus that seemed off.

You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

He didn’t look up at first, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the table. “I’m fine,” he said, but his tone lacked its usual confidence.

You waited, sensing that he wasn’t fine at all. After a long moment of silence, Ni-ki finally spoke again, quieter this time. “I’m… just thinking about some things. It’s nothing important.”

You could tell that was a lie. He was always so composed, so in control of his emotions, that seeing him unsettled was strange. But you didn’t push him. Instead, you offered something simple.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his expression softening just a little. He didn’t say anything, but the small nod he gave you felt like a thank you.

Another late night, the library was almost empty, save for you and Ni-ki at your usual spot. You had been studying for hours, and exhaustion was starting to settle in. You stretched, groaning as you reached for your quill.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you muttered. “My brain is fried.”

Ni-ki glanced up from his book, closing it with a quiet snap. “Take a break.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the suggestion. “You? Telling me to take a break? What’s gotten into you?”

“Even I take breaks sometimes.”

Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ve never seen it.”

Instead of responding, Ni-ki stood up and stretched, motioning for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s walk around for a few minutes.”

Confused but curious, you followed him out of the library and into the cool night air. The two of you walked in silence for a while, the soft breeze helping to clear your mind. After a few minutes, Ni-ki broke the silence.

“You push yourself too hard sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the observation. “You’re one to talk.”

He shrugged “Maybe. But I know when to stop.”

But perhaps the most unexpected moment came one late afternoon, as you both sat in the library, quietly working on your respective assignments. You were in a lighter mood that day, having finally finished an essay that had been plaguing you for weeks. Feeling more relaxed, you absentmindedly began talking about the ridiculous antics of a few fellow students during Herbology, mimicking the professor's reactions with exaggerated gestures and voices.

Ni-ki, as usual, didn’t say much, just listened with his usual calm expression. But then, something shifted. When you imitated Professor Sprout tripping over a Mandrake root, you caught it—the faintest twitch of his lips. At first, you thought you had imagined it, but then it happened again. His lips curved up into a small smile, and for a brief moment, Ni-ki’s usually composed face broke into something entirely different.

You froze mid-sentence, staring at him in shock. Ni-ki—quiet, serious, and often unreadable—was smiling. Not just a polite smile, but a genuine one, and you could see a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed your stunned expression.

“I… I didn’t know you could smile,” you blurted out, completely forgetting your earlier train of thought.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and then, to your utter disbelief, a soft chuckle escaped him. It was quiet and brief, but it was there—a real laugh. And suddenly, the cold, distant image you had of him cracked just a little more, revealing something warmer, something softer beneath the surface.

He quickly composed himself, the smile fading but not disappearing entirely. “I’m not a statue,” he said dryly, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that you had never seen before.

“I mean, I guess I just assumed…” you trailed off, still processing the fact that you had just witnessed Ni-ki laugh.

And then, with a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips, Ni-ki returned to his work, leaving you to sit there.

But one of the most memorable moments between you happened during a study session where, for once, things were going smoothly. You were both focused on your work when a random thought popped into your head, and without thinking, you said it aloud.

“Do you think Professor McGonagall’s animagus form ever accidentally knocks things off tables like a real cat?”

Ni-ki looked up at you, clearly confused. “What?”

You laughed, suddenly realizing how ridiculous the thought sounded. “I mean, she’s a cat, right? What if she just can’t help herself and bats things off desks?”

For a moment, Ni-ki just stared at you, and you thought he was going to tell you off for not focusing. But then, to your utter shock, he started laughing—a real, genuine laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was pure, and the sound of it made your heart skip a beat.

“Why would you even think of that?” he asked, still chuckling.

You shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

Ni-ki shook his head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

But there was no malice in his words, only a warmth that hadn’t been there before. And in that moment, you realized just how much closer the two of you had become. And seeing him laugh—really laugh—was something you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

----------------------------------------

It was a quiet afternoon when it happened. You had just finished another study session in the library with Ni-ki. He had helped you with a particularly difficult problem, and though he was his usual quiet self, you had left feeling a sense of warmth—like things between you were truly starting to shift. Maybe Ni-ki didn’t always show it in public, but you were sure he valued your time together, even if it was mostly in the library.

However, as you made your way through the corridors, feeling content from the productive session, a group of girls—Ni-ki’s admirers, if you were honest—blocked your path. Their expressions weren’t friendly, and you could tell right away that something was off.

Before you could say anything, they pushed you into an empty classroom, closing the door behind you. The leader of the group, a girl you recognized as one of Ni-ki’s more obsessive followers, crossed her arms, sneering.

“So,” she began, voice dripping with disdain, “you think you're special, huh? Just because you spend time with Ni-ki in the library?”

You froze, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at them, trying to keep calm.

“Do you actually believe he cares about you?” another one chimed in. “He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but the leader cut you off. “Oh, please. He pities you. You should hear the things people say. They’re always wondering why he wastes his time on someone like you.”

Her words hit hard, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “That’s not true. He helps me because he—”

“Because he what?” she interrupted with a cruel laugh. “Because he likes you? Don’t be stupid. He only tolerates you. He never talks to you outside the library, does he?”

That made you pause. It was true—Ni-ki never approached you in the halls, never spoke to you outside of your library sessions. He barely acknowledged you in class unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when you saw him with his friends, he acted as if you didn’t exist.

They could see the doubt in your eyes, and the girl smirked, sensing victory. “See? You know it’s true. If he really liked you, why would he act like you don’t exist when you’re not sitting across from him in the library?”

You stayed silent, unable to find an answer. The doubts they were planting in your mind started to grow roots, wrapping around your thoughts and pulling you into a spiral of overthinking.

“He probably thinks you’re a burden,” one of the girls said with a mocking laugh. “I mean, why else would he avoid you in front of his friends? He doesn’t want them to see him hanging out with someone like you.”

The words stung, each one cutting deeper than the last. You tried to fight back, tried to tell yourself that Ni-ki’s quiet nature didn’t mean he didn’t care, but their accusations fed into your worst fears. What if you really were just a burden to him? What if he did pity you, and that’s why he never spoke to you outside of your study sessions?

You kept quiet, and they could see they had hit their mark.

“Face it,” the leader said, stepping closer with a satisfied smirk. “Ni-ki feels sorry for you. You’re nothing to him.”

You bit your lip, holding back the sting of tears. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but the words had already wormed their way into your head. Why did he only talk to you in the library? Why didn’t he ever approach you outside of that space? You thought you had gotten closer to him, but maybe you had been wrong all along.

They left you there in the empty classroom, their mocking laughter echoing in the halls as they disappeared. You stood frozen in place, your thoughts swirling with doubt and confusion, questioning everything you thought you knew about Ni-ki and your growing connection with him.

That one question kept repeating in your mind: Why didn’t he talk to you outside of the library?

After that confrontation in the empty classroom, you couldn’t shake the words that had been thrown at you. The girls' taunts, the doubts they had planted in your mind—they echoed endlessly, gnawing at your thoughts and twisting everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Ni-ki. Every time you walked through the halls, you felt a strange weight on your chest.

You began to pull away, slowly at first. It started with cutting your library sessions shorter. Where once you might have lingered for hours, speaking to Ni-ki about anything and everything, now you found yourself packing up your things earlier, offering hurried excuses about homework or other commitments. Ni-ki would glance at you but never say much, and his silence only added to your doubts. It was almost like he didn’t notice your growing distance, or maybe, you thought bitterly, he didn’t care enough to ask.

The distance grew wider as the days passed. You started skipping your library sessions altogether, avoiding the places you knew Ni-ki would be. The once-familiar space where the two of you had shared quiet moments now felt like a weight, a place filled with uncertainty and confusion. You didn’t know what to make of your feelings, or of Ni-ki’s. Were you really just a burden to him? Did he pity you, as they had said?

It hurt too much to face him, so you stopped trying.

In the hallways, you could feel his gaze on you. Even if you weren’t looking, you knew when Ni-ki was nearby. It was as if some invisible thread still tied the two of you together, but now it felt frayed and fragile, a connection you didn’t know how to mend. You passed by him in the corridors, your head down, avoiding his eyes at all costs. In the Great Hall, you chose seats far away from where he and his Slytherin friends sat. But somehow, it didn’t matter. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, his gaze following your every move, and each time, it sent a wave of guilt crashing over you.

You never looked back at him, though. You couldn’t.

You skipped classes you shared with him. It started with one or two missed lectures, but eventually, it became a pattern. Without him, you struggled, barely scraping by with borrowed notes from friends. They weren’t as clear or detailed as Ni-ki’s notes, but they would have to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for help again.

Despite all your attempts to avoid him, Ni-ki’s presence lingered everywhere. You didn’t know if it was your mind playing tricks on you, or if he really was watching you more closely now. Whatever it was, you felt more conflicted than ever. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he cared, but then that gnawing insecurity crept back in, reminding you of what those girls had said. He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you withdrew. Doubts clouded every memory of your time with Ni-ki, twisting your perception of everything he’d done for you—the notes, the help with your studies, the quiet moments you’d shared. What if it had all been one-sided? What if you had been nothing more than a project, a pity case?

And so, you kept your distance, avoiding the boy whose piercing gaze you could no longer bear to meet, and wondering if maybe, in the end, they had been right all along.

-----------------------------------------

You had been so lost in your thoughts, your mind circling around the same questions, the same doubts, that you didn’t even realize where your feet were taking you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you noticed the dim, cold lighting of the dungeons, the walls lined with stone, and the distant murmur of voices. You froze, recognizing how close you were to the Slytherin dorms.

Instinctively, you were about to turn and head back the way you came when the sound of laughter caught your attention. It was light, warm, and carefree—a sound that felt almost foreign in this part of the castle. Curious, despite yourself, you peeked around the corner.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing there, casually leaning against the wall, was Ni-ki. His head was tilted slightly back, his face scrunched up in genuine amusement, his white teeth flashing in a wide grin. He was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the edges, his normally stoic expression completely replaced by something so light and happy that it shocked you. You had never seen him like this before. His laugh, his smile. It made him seem younger, softer, almost…adorable. For a moment, you were completely transfixed, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

But then, your eyes flickered to the people surrounding him. His friends—other Slytherins you recognized—were standing nearby, laughing along with him. Among them, you spotted a few of the girls who had cornered you in the empty classroom, their cruel words still echoing in your mind. The sight of them, standing so close to Ni-ki, chatting and laughing as if everything was normal, sent a jolt of discomfort through you.

And then, before you could react, one of Ni-ki’s friends noticed you. His expression shifted slightly as he leaned in to whisper something in Ni-ki’s ear.

Ni-ki turned.

Your heart dropped.

His gaze locked onto yours from across the hallway, his laughter fading instantly. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a gasp escaping your lips as you quickly turned on your heel and speed-walked down the hallway, trying to put as much distance between yourself and that scene as possible.

Your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing. He was laughing with them. With those girls… The image of his bright smile, so carefree, so natural, was seared into your mind, but it was tainted now by the memory of the people surrounding him—the people who had made you doubt everything.

Had he heard what they said? Did he know?

You didn’t wait to find out. All you knew was that you needed to get as far away from the dungeons, and from Ni-ki, as quickly as possible.

You didn’t exactly know how you ended up in the library, but here you were, tucked away in a quiet, hidden corner that no one ever really bothered with. It was your place, somewhere you used to come to study, or more recently, to avoid. The shelves towered above you, enclosing you in their safe, comforting silence, but it did little to ease the heavy weight in your chest.

Wiping away the stray tears that had already started to fall, you slid down to the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest. Your bag dropped beside you with a soft thud, the books spilling out carelessly, but you didn’t bother to pick them up. It felt like too much effort, like you couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but curl in on yourself.

Tears fell freely now, and you buried your face in your arms, trying to muffle the soft sobs that escaped. Everything had just… built up. The confusion, the distance, the hurt from what Ni-ki’s admirers had said, and now seeing him so happy without you. You had tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that he was just a library acquaintance, but the truth was that it did matter. More than you wanted to admit.

The quiet of the library felt like it was pressing down on you, suffocating in its stillness, yet at the same time, it was the only place where you could let go like this. Where no one would see you, no one would ask questions, and no one would tell you that you were being silly for feeling this way.

You cried softly, the hurt you’d been bottling up for so long finally breaking free. The words of those girls echoed in your mind, their sneering voices telling you that Ni-ki pitied you, that he didn’t care, that you were nothing to him. The worst part was that you had started to believe it.

The image of Ni-ki laughing with his friends flashed before your eyes again, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. He seemed so happy, so… distant. And you? You were nothing but a fading presence, something he could ignore outside of your shared library sessions. You had convinced yourself that maybe you had become friends, maybe there was something more, but now, it all felt like a lie.

The sobs came harder now, your chest tightening painfully as you curled further into yourself. You didn’t want to care this much. You didn’t want to feel this way. But here you were, hiding in the shadows of the library, crying over someone you weren’t even sure cared about you at all.

The quiet shuffling beside you broke through your tears, making you look up from your curled position. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Ni-ki standing right there, holding your bag in his hand, his face full of worry. His usually composed expression was soft, eyebrows knitted together as he searched your face.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You sniffled, quickly wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve and nodding, though your heart wasn’t in the gesture. You looked away, half-expecting him to leave like always, to walk away and give you space. But instead, you heard him set his bag down. You glanced at him, shocked, as he sat beside you on the floor.

Ni-ki leaned back against the shelves, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing deeply. "I know you’ve been avoiding me," he said, his voice softer than usual, yet it held a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him. He opened his eyes, looking directly at you, and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

You sat up, startled by his question. "What? No, no, of course you didn’t!" you answered quickly, panic rising in your chest.

He tilted his head slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Then why…" His words trailed off as he sighed again. He looked at you, his expression filled with something close to concern. "Please… tell me. I’m worried about you," he admitted, his voice quiet.

His words made your heart clench. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made it harder to stay quiet. You gulped, trying to steady yourself. This was the moment you had been dreading. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to say the words that had been haunting you since that confrontation. But seeing him here, sitting beside you, waiting for an explanation—it was enough to make you break.

"I…" You began, your voice shaky. "It’s not you, Ni-ki, really. You didn’t do anything wrong." You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "Some girls… they confronted me, said that you pitied me. That you thought I was a burden… and it got in my head. They asked why you never talk to me outside the library, and… I started wondering if they were right."

Ni-ki’s expression shifted immediately, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What? Why would they say that?"

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. "They said I was stupid for even thinking we were friends… that I didn’t matter to you outside of studying."

There was a long pause, the silence hanging heavily between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, too afraid of what you might see in his eyes. But then, after what felt like an eternity, Ni-ki’s voice broke the silence.

"That’s not true," he said quietly, his tone firm but gentle. "You’re not a burden. I don’t pity you."

You slowly looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. His usual calm exterior was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

"I didn’t know you felt like that," Ni-ki continued, his voice soft. "I… I just didn’t think you’d want to hang out with me outside the library. I didn’t think I was someone you’d want to be around like that."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "What? But… you’re always surrounded by people. Why would you think that?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, people, not friends. Most of them just see me as Ni-ki, the Slytherin prefect or whatever. I don’t… I don’t let people in easily. But you…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "I guess I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed your company until you started avoiding me."

His words made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth amidst all the confusion and hurt.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "I didn’t mean to make assumptions or push you away. I just… I didn’t know what to think."

Ni-ki shook his head, his gaze softening. "It’s okay. I should’ve been more clear with you." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I want you to know… I don’t just think of you as someone I study with. I…" He trailed off again, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. He looked vulnerable, in a way you had never seen before.

"I care about you," he finally said, the words slow and deliberate, as if he had been holding onto them for a long time. "More than you think."

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at him, unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you—it made your chest tighten in a way that was both overwhelming and comforting.

"I…" you started, your voice faltering. You didn’t know what to say, how to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

But you didn’t have to say anything, because in that moment, Ni-ki smiled at you—genuinely smiled, the corners of his lips turning up, his eyes softening. It was a small, almost shy smile, but it was enough to make you realize that everything you had been overthinking, all the doubts and insecurities, had been for nothing.

Ni-ki cared. He had always cared.

Ni-ki stayed by your side, his presence steady and comforting as you finally let the weight of everything spill out. You told him about the girls, your voice shaky at first, but as you continued, you felt lighter, as though every word lifted a little bit of the burden off your chest. His expression shifted the moment you named them, his brows drawing together in a way you’d never seen before—serious, almost dangerous.

For a moment, you worried that he might storm off, that his calm demeanor would crack and he’d go after them. But instead, he simply listened, his face tight with restrained anger, and when you finished, he surprised you once again.

He opened his arms.

Without a second thought, you slid into his embrace, feeling his warmth surround you, his arms wrapping securely around your back. His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled—a real, genuine smile.

"They were wrong," he murmured softly, his voice vibrating through his chest. "You mean so much more to me than they could ever understand."

You felt your heart swell at his words, the knot in your stomach slowly unraveling. He didn’t hate you. He never had.

When you finally pulled back from the hug, your gaze met his, and the intensity of his eyes made your breath hitch. His face was still close, his cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he paused, swallowing nervously.

"I…" he began, his voice a little shaky. "I need to tell you something." His eyes darted away for a moment before finding yours again, determination setting in. "I’ve been… thinking about this for a while, and I just—" He sighed, clearly flustered. "I don’t know how to say it."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. Ni-ki, the calm, collected boy who never seemed to let anything rattle him, was stuttering and blushing, his usual composure unraveling before your eyes.

"I-I like you," he blurted out, his face now fully red. "A lot. I have for a while, but I didn’t know how to say it. I’m not good at this stuff, and I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but when you started avoiding me, I—"

He was rambling now, his words spilling out in a rush, and you could tell he was struggling to keep up with his own thoughts. It was so unlike him, seeing him this vulnerable, this unsure. It was endearing.

Before he could continue, you acted on impulse, reaching up to gently cup his face and pulling him toward you. His eyes widened in surprise just before your lips met his.

For a split second, you could feel his shock, his body freezing beneath your touch. But then, just as quickly, he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, pulling you closer. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but then the kiss deepened, his movements growing more sure, more confident. He held you like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

The world seemed to disappear around you, the weight of everything that had been bothering you fading away in the warmth of his embrace. It was just you and Ni-ki, the soft press of his lips against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you realized.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, your face warm from the intensity of the moment. Ni-ki stared at you, his lips slightly parted, still processing what had just happened.

"I… uh…" He blinked, his usual calm demeanor shattered, and it made you smile.

"That was your way of saying you like me too, huh?" he asked with a sheepish grin, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

You laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah… I like you too, Ni-ki."

His smile widened, this time filled with a mixture of relief and happiness. "I’m glad," he said softly, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

For a moment, you both just sat there, basking in the newfound closeness, the tension that had been between you for weeks dissolving into something sweet, something real.

"Let’s forget about those girls," he murmured after a while, his forehead resting gently against yours. "They don’t know what they’re talking about. All that matters is you and me, okay?"

You nodded, your heart full. "Okay."

#enhypen fic #enhypen #enhypen niki #niki x reader #ni ki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #fanfiction #riki x reader #niki fluff #niki imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines

1K notes · View notes

rmview · 23 days ago

Text

hard to handle | san, m.

summary: san, a cocky boxer with a notorious temper, meets his match in his resilient physiotherapist who refuses to quit despite his antics. he does a good job keeping you at a distance, but during a playful bout, unintentional feelings surface and cause things to get a little physical.

pairing: boxer!choi san x physiotherapist f!reader

genre: boxing!au, pwp, tension, smut

words: 4.2k words

warnings: explicit & messy & unprotected sex, mean!san, cocky dom!san, big cock!san, sub!reader, size kink, pinning/restraining, teasing, clothed grinding, biting, praise, marking, fingering, clit play, orgasm control, edging, handjob, penetrative sex, choking, tears, creampie, almost public sex (?) and voyeurism themes — they’re in a public room with the door unlocked, interruptions.

minors do not interact! | masterlist | more ateez content

“you’re not allowed to quit.”

the words came sharp and sudden, slicing through the air with the same precision san delivered in the ring. you froze mid-stretch, hands stilling over his sore leg. slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, confused by the uncharacteristic weight in his tone.

“…okay,” you replied cautiously, trying to gauge his mood.

san’s brow furrowed deeper, and the irritation etched across his face didn’t waver. “coach kim told me you were planning to leave,” he pressed, voice edged with something almost accusatory.

you blinked, letting his words settle. with how insistent and demanding san was, it wouldn’t have surprised you if that rumor had sprouted legs and started running. after all, you weren’t the first physiotherapist to step into this circus — and judging by the quick turnover before you, most had found the door far more inviting than the job.

but you stayed.

why? it wasn’t some deep-seated need to prove yourself or a traumatic past molding you into a masochist. no, it was simpler than that: the paycheck was solid, and once you learned to see past san’s gruff exterior and insufferable tendencies, he was just… tolerable. like dealing with an overgrown five-year-old throwing tantrums in the body of a professional fighter.

“well, coach is wrong,” you said, shrugging as you resumed your careful movements on his leg. your voice was calm, steady, not betraying the flicker of amusement rising in you at his sudden concern.

but san wasn’t convinced. his dark eyes narrowed as if searching your face for a crack, a lie, a tell.

“he said you’re thinking about it,” he countered, his scowl deepening. “you can’t leave. i need you.”

it wasn’t romantic — far from it. his words came out firm, almost commanding, the way you’d expect from someone used to giving orders. someone used to winning.

still, something about this moment felt different. the commanding façade faltered ever so slightly, and there was a flicker of something raw in his voice. vulnerability, maybe? you weren’t sure. but it was there, buried under the frustration, and you couldn’t ignore it.

what was his deal? what was it about the idea of you leaving that got under his skin?

you paused again, letting your hands rest gently on his leg as you glanced up. his expression hadn’t softened, but you could see the edges weren’t as sharp. your lips twitched, a small smile creeping in despite yourself.

“are you sure coach kim wasn’t just teasing you?” you asked, your tone light as you tried to ease the tension. “you know, considering your, er, personality? because honestly, i haven’t thought about leaving.” even though it’s the saner option, you thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

san huffed, leaning back against the mat, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching before he finally spoke. “are you calling me a problem?” his voice was low, sharp, and cold enough to send a chill down your spine.

your breath hitched as his piercing gaze locked onto you, unrelenting and unreadable. his tone alone made your stomach twist, but it was the way his leg pulled away from your hands that had you stiffening. the dismissal in his actions was clear — he didn’t want you there.

“i…” you faltered, feeling the weight of his words press against you. “of course not, san. you’re not the problem.”

your voice was soft, careful, an attempt to diffuse the tension. but his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, signaling that your words did little to soothe his frustration.

“then leave,” he snapped, turning his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest like a fortress. “i don’t need you.”

his dismissal stung more than you’d like to admit, but you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “i’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your tone hushed but steady, a small smile twitching on your lips. “i enjoy working with you too much.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a mean sneer. “don’t bother lying, princess, you’re terrible at it.”

his words were biting, but the way he leaned slightly closer didn’t go unnoticed. he was testing you, waiting for you to crack under the weight of his intimidation.

“i’m not lying, i wasn’t lying.” you whispered, shaking your head. “just teasing…”

“well, stop it,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave. the air around you grew heavier as he glared at you. “it’s annoying. i don’t like it.”

“i know,” you murmured, your voice almost playful as you reached out, lightly brushing your fingers against his arm. “but that’s exactly why i do it. you’re kind of… cute when you’re like this.”

his eye twitched at your words, and the next thing you knew, he moved. with one swift motion, he shoved you back against the couch, his body towering over yours. his knee pressed into the cushion beside your hip, locking you in place, while his other hand braced against the armrest, boxing you in completely.

the weight of his presence stole the air from your lungs as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours. the glint in his eyes was sharp, teasing yet dangerous, and his lips curled into a sneer that sent a shiver down your spine.

“cute?” he repeated, his tone mocking as he pinned your wrists above your head. his grip was firm but not enough to hurt, though the dominance in his posture had your heart pounding.

you stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, your cheeks heating under his intense scrutiny. “san…” you started, but your voice faltered.

he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “do you think you’re immune to being kicked to the curb just because you’ve been here the longest?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with warning.

your lips parted, a soft laugh escaping despite the way your body trembled under his. every part of you that he touched sent sparks flying through your veins, down your spine and between your legs. “you’d never. i’m your favorite,” you whispered, trying to mask your flustered state with a teasing edge, your words holding truth.

his expression hardened, but he didn’t pull away. instead, his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “you wish,” he scoffed, though the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him. that and the subtle twitch of his cock in his shorts that you definitely felt from how you froze.

you weren’t sure whether to feel thrilled or terrified, but one thing was certain: you were treading dangerous waters, and san didn’t look like he was about to let you off easy.

“...this is a very risky, er, position,” you choked out softly, voice slightly strained. your gaze flickered between his narrowed brown eyes, to the door of the break room that you both were in, it’s door unlocked. your thighs rubbed together almost unknowingly and you resisted the urge to squirm. you were trapped.

“mhm.” san hummed dismissively, his gaze not leaving you. every twitch in your expression was noticed by him, especially the growing warmth on your cheeks and ears, that made him smirk. “and?”

“and coach could walk in...” you cleared your throat, mind fogging and something in the pit of your stomach clenching. you couldn’t imagine the look on the old man’s face if he walked in and saw you under the star fighter you were supposed to be healing. “it would be embarrassing.”

san chuckled, and your gaze snapped to his. it was mocking and you shivered — from fear or arousal, you didn’t know. “why? we aren’t doing anything... yet.”

“yet?” your heartbeat was wild, throbbing in your ears. you were sure san could hear it. if he was being so mean, he definitely could and was taking advantage of how meek you were. he knew you could never say no to him, not that you wanted to. “what do you — mmpf!”

the next thing you knew, you felt a tongue slipping past your lips, swirling inside your mouth. your breath was stolen from you, and with his free hand, san grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them to the couch, using his body to keep you in place.

it was a sloppy and dominating kiss. he explored and claimed every part of your mouth without pulling away. his body pressed against yours, and the kiss slowly grew more heated. his hand wandered down your sides, squeezing them softly for a moment before he pulled away from your lips, breaths mingled.

san studied your expression, eyes still narrowed in a cold glare. he smirked at how out of breath and dazed you looked, and pushed his knee between your thighs to part your legs. you were practically shaking and san didn’t even do anything yet.

“stupid.” he mutters out, tone rough and husky. leaning down to your neck, san began sucking on the sweet spot under your jaw that made you squeak.

his body pressed against you, almost uncomfortably, and you were practically trapped underneath him. your wrists were still pinned down, and you were hyperaware of every ridge and pane of his body on top of your curves. his broad chest, beefy arms, strong thighs and hard cock were suffocating you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“you’re so stupid and cute, i could eat you right now.” he rasped, lifting his head to look down at you. his face was inches from your own. san looked obsessed.

you shivered at the unusual glint in his piercing glare, his smirk almost evil and you flushed. “eat me?”

“every last bit.” his voice was rough. a stark contrast to his actions. his hands would rub up and down your sides gently, his face still close.

a low and sensual growl spilled from between his lips as he kissed you again, lips rougher. he brought one of his hands up to thread into the hair at the base of your neck, tilting your head so he could have more access to your lips. his arm wrapped around your waist, tugging your body as close to him as possible.

everything was fine — as fine as san eating your face off could be — until you felt something long and hard press right against your clothed clit. “ngh... san!”

he merely chuckled against your lips, sharp teeth tugging your bottom lip, and then smoothing the sting with his warm tongue. “what?”

“i’m...” you started, but were unable to continue, gasping when you felt his hips grind against yours once more. small sparks shot from your clit to your spine, and you arched softly, voice a pitch higher. your pussy clenched around nothing. “...sensitive.”

“i know.” san groaned in your neck, and you felt his thick fingers of his free hand undo the drawstrings on your uniform scrubs. he silenced any of your gasps with another kiss, slipping his fingers into the front of your pants to push past your panties. you barely had time to register his next actions, until you felt the rough pads of his calloused fingers run over your quivering clit and folds.

your wrists were still held down with one of his hands as you moaned shakily, eyes squeezing shut. you felt san’s long fingers smear your slick all over the folds of your cunt, cursing lowly under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he exhaled, his fingers circling your swollen clit and making you twitch. the feel of you writhing under him, feeling you squirm and hearing you moan, it only made san want more. he leaned down, his lips on your neck, nipping and sucking as he slipped a digit into your pulsing pussy, feeling your tight walls clench around him. “fuck.”

san gritted his teeth and, his body trembled with restraint.

“san... ah...” you squirmed softly as you felt his fingers pump and prod your spongy walls, gushing wetness the longer he stretched out your cunt. your eyes were glazed, and your arousal was dripping down his knuckles the longer he curled and scissored you open on the couch. “we... we shouldn’t be doing this.”

the sounds of your pretty voice, the feeling of your hips moving against his hand, the soft moans and gasps — san was losing himself in you. he added another finger, feeling the heat of your cunt around his digits, wanting to hear those sweet sounds of yours. “oh?”

“t-the door... it’s unlocked.” it was a miracle you could still think from how deliciously he played your cunt, but your ears were still hyperaware of the faint yells and sounds of sparring from the main gym. you throbbed around his fingers, almost in fear of being caught.

san grunted, reaching as deep as he could with the tips of his fingers before slowly pulling the digits out, and glancing down to see the way his skin glistened with your juices. “doesn’t matter.”

“but...” “but nothing.” san scoffed and sat back on his knees, undoing his shorts and pushing the cloth down along with his boxers so his hard cock sprung out. the veiny length was twitching and leaking precum from the angry red tip, and your flushed gaze was drawn to the sight while you rubbed your sore wrists. he used your slick smeared on his fingers to pump his hard cock, taking in the sight of you panting and sprawled half-naked on the break room sofa, thighs parted and folds glistening. “the only one coming in this room is you.”

your gaze met his smirking one and you tried to scowl softly, propping yourself up on your elbows shakily. “very funny.”

“i’m not done with you, princess.” san crawled back over you, pushing his face in your neck to nip at that spot that made you squirm, shifting between your legs.

you were so tired of him toying with you that you reached out to grasp his cock with your hands, experimentally stroking the hard length. your fingers couldn’t even wrap fully around the girth of his thick shaft, but that didn’t stop you. san let out a choked groan, his teeth gripping the flesh of your neck as you flicked your wrist at an agonizingly slow pace.

it was your first time fisting a cock and your hands were almost shaking. yet you loved the feeling of the large man practically turning into jelly above you from a few strokes. it only motivated you to try and squeeze tighter, pumping up and down, as your flustered gaze met his weak one. san was still trying to keep up his facade, but not for long.

san couldn’t hold back any longer. “that’s enough!” he hissed weakly, smacking your hand away and pulling you to lie back down on the couch, while he positioned the bulbous head of his thick cock at your entrance. “no more playing around.”

san was looking down at you, his eyes dark and focused, his body trembling with restraint that was held by a thread. he was so tightly wound and needed to cum now, before he actually lost it.

“o-okay...” your clit throbbed as he rubbed his cock against your wet folds a few times. your eyes were almost hazy from pleasure, and you pawed at the leather of the couch for stability. suddenly san couldn’t hold back any longer.

he grabbed one of your legs, to rest it over his shoulder, and pushed it up before he leaned over you, his body hovering above yours as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck. san’s hand gripped one of the small throw pillows for a moment, moving it underneath your hips, and then he slowly started to push his cock forward into your entrance.

as he sunk his thick shaft into your cunt inch by inch, the feeling of you clenching around him, the feeling of your breath catching in your throat, the way your body shook at the slow bottoming out — san’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.

he grunted through his gritted teeth, his hand leaving the pillow by your hip to reach up and grasp your wrist, to hold it down again. san looked down at your face, his hips rocking slowly at first to get a feel of stretching out your small stretchy cunt, as his words came in short bursts. “god… ah… just like that…”

“san...” your voice was a soft breathless whimper, the sight of him above you making you quiver and clench more. all your dazed eyes could see was a beefy and sweaty san on top of you, jaw clenched and grunting, and you nearly came on the spot. “y-you... you... i hate you.”

he sight of you below him, so docile, flushed and soft, made his chest swell with something, his lips pulling into a slow mocking grin. “yeah?”

san was so desperate, so fucking hard at the thought of claiming you all night, to mark you and keep you under him. you had no idea how much he needed you. how could you, when he’d never said a word?

your cunt was so tight and warm. like nothing he’d ever had, or imagined in his long showers after training, eyes closed and fisting his cock for a quick release while he wished it was your cunt milking him instead. now, having you under him for real felt like a fever dream, and san’s hips had a mind of their own from the way his thrusts started to pick up pace.

“yeah.” your breath hitched softly, already forgetting your previous train of thought from the way san’s hips angled. the tip of his cock continued to repeatedly bully the spongy sensitive spot in you, making you see stars. “you’re so mean to me... all the time... a-and... and...”

you trailed off, eyes squeezing shut softly as you nearly found yourself cumming all over his cock. san was close too, and he just needed a few more thrusts before —

knock, knock.

fuck.

both you and san froze, and for a moment you felt your soul leave your body. whoever it was, could just twist the knob of the unlocked door and see you sprawled under san, with your leg over his shoulder, and his cock buried ten inches deep in your cervix.

“san, sparring practice in ten minutes!” coach kim called out cheerily from behind the door, unaware.

“we’ll be out soon.” san’s voice rumbled, and your wide-eyed gaze snapped to him, clenching almost in fear. san felt the twitch of your walls and glanced down at you, something almost evil lighting up in his eyes. “doc is still busy working on my bad leg, aren’t you doc?”

the color drained from your face when you felt san’s hips resume their thrusts, and you almost fearfully tried to push him away. shaking your head, you tried to stop him and whisper-yell, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to say a word without moaning shakily, so you stayed silent. something neither san, nor coach would let you do.

“is everything okay in there, doc?” coach kim asked, as you squirmed under san, his large palm holding your hip in place under him, and your ankle in place over his shoulder. his thrusts were still quick, aimed to make you and himself cum as soon as possible, whether coach walked in or not.

“answer him.” san’s lips brushed against your ear as he whispered hotly, smug. “you don’t want him to — fuck — come in, would you?”

it was hard to gather the courage to speak without screaming, especially when you opened your mouth, and the asshole above you took that as the exact moment to decide to rub your clit, coughing softly to disguise your noises. “i, uh, — ngh — we’ll be coming! in sometime... just... go on, coach... no need to — stop that! — wait up!”

you blurted between whimpers, trying to swat san’s wandering hands away as he pinched and rubbed all sensitive spots on your body, even dipping down to bite at your clothed nipples. you were still on edge as coach could walk in anytime, but that didn’t bother san. if fact, his hips pistoned into your cervix at a mind-numbing pace, all thoughts blown from your mind.

“you heard the man,” san grunted in your ear. his smooth skin was drenched in sweat, slight red marks left on his shoulders from your nails, and his brows were furrowed in concentration. “we have five minutes to finish.”

you let out a strangled noise when you felt the sudden onslaught of stimulation, his large palms grasping your hips as he fucked you hard. guiding your hips to match his, san made sure his hips were angled to fuck right up into your womb, smirking to himself when he noticed the slight outline of his cock bulging from your stomach. “t-there’s no way... that we can f-finish... in 5 minutes...”

“you wanna bet?” san rasped, forcing his mouth on yours, kissing you deep and slow, his own grunts and sighs barely muffled by his lips. san could feel you tightening around him, hear the breathy, soft pants coming from your lips.

how could he hold himself back when you responded so eagerly?

san pulled his lips away to look down at you, his hand leaving your leg to grasp at your throat, his calloused thumb resting on your jaw, and his grip firm. you looked so good under him like this.

“that’s it, princess,” san groaned, his hips pushing forward, his voice uneven from all the pleasure. he didn’t think he’d last the next 30 seconds, let alone 5 minutes.

but he wouldn’t cum before you. that would almost be insulting, making sure to use his free hand to fondle your swollen clit, bringing you to finish as soon as him.

“san!” you cried out, already feeling your release building. you tried to bite at your knuckles to keep yourself quiet and muffle all the whimpers and gasps that could reach outside the room. your nails dug into his biceps, eyes squeezing shut.

both of you were so close, san’s hips moving more erratically, and your body losing control. your voice was choked and a pitch higher, every noise you made streaming into soft sobs, tears blurring your eyes. you felt too good. “san... i’m gonna...”

san could feel your body trembling, your breathing getting shallower, and when you spoke, it only made him feel closer. he panted, his breath coming out in hot, uneven puffs, his nose rubbing against yours, his hand on your throat tightening.

“go on… squeeze that cunt of yours tight… i’m almost done.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, and when you squeezed so beautifully for him, san lost himself.

he came with a strangled groan, his movements stuttering, his hand squeezing on your throat for a moment. his eyes squeezed shut as white hot pleasure coursed through his veins, his mind blanking out and ears ringing. for a few moments, he thought he saw the pearly white gates of heaven, as he unsteadily pumped ropes after ropes of his hot cum into your pussy.

you could feel your insides being painted white while san grunted curses under his breath, the hot seed almost burning your walls. he made sure to thrust a few more times so his cum filled your insides snugly, fucking it deeper.

your overstimulated whimpers were what bought san back to reality, the ringing in his ears fading as he looked down at you, disheveled and naked waist down, his cock still buried deep in your cunt.

he was momentarily distracted by the sight of your puffy folds wrapped around the base of his cock, a creamy ring of cum around his shaft. he felt himself twitch, just barely suppressing the urge to fold you in a mating press and take you again.

“still hate me?” his voice was slightly strained. san couldn’t find it in himself to pull out yet. his gaze flickered down to your disheveled shirt stretched over your chest, and he couldn’t help but grasp your breast and squeeze. he’d play with them next time.

you were too out of breath to reply or swat his hand away, exhaling shakily as you slowly got down from your high. “i’m still deciding.” you needed a moment, or ten, to get your thoughts in order. “and you didn’t finish in 5 minutes, you took 8.”

“whatever.” san chuckled, nipping your cheek playfully.

he slowly pulled out, his muscles tired. but he wasn’t fast enough. because the next thing you knew, there was a soft click, and the two of you didn’t even have time to freeze, before the break room door swung open.

“san, you little shit, you’re late for — what the fuck!?”

author note: my first smut fic, yay! if this sounds familiar to you, it’s because this plot is heavily inspired by the love of my life, joo jaekyung from the bl manhwa jinx (he’s the best guy around)! please do interact and tell me what you think! also, i made the banner myself so pls show some love if you think it looks nice :3

tag list: @tsukisrants ; @dawn-iscozy ; @vixensss

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months ago

Note

HEYYYY so i dont really know if u write this stuff but i was wondering if u could do like toji/jjk men and their reaction when the reader goes into labour?? ❤️❤️

JJK men when you go into labor

Pairings: Toji x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Warnings: yk...birth, this is basically the same scenario for 3k words straight lol, never gave birth myself so idk if this is accurate 🥹

Toji Fushiguro

The day started like any other. Well, as normal as it can be when you’re nine months pregnant.

You are in the kitchen, trying to decide between a cup of tea or a snack, when a sharp, unmistakable pain shoots through your abdomen. You gasp, clutching the edge of the counter for support as the realization hits you with full force:

This is it. The baby is coming.

“Toji!” you call out, your voice trembling as another wave of pain rolls through you.

You hear the rustle of a newspaper being set down and the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching from the living room.

“Toji…” you try to keep calm, but the panic in your voice is unmistakable.

The man is a fortress, rarely showing any emotion beyond his usual stoic demeanor, but when he sees your expression, something shifts in his eyes. The usually cool, collected Toji Fushiguro is now all business.

Without a word, he’s right by your side, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to support you. His other hand comes up to gently tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“How long have you been feeling this?” he questions, his voice steady, though you can hear the underlying tension.

“Just started,” you manage to reply through gritted teeth.

Another contraction hits, and you instinctively grip his arm, digging your nails into his skin for support.

Toji doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he simply nods, assessing the situation with the same precision he would use in a fight.

“Alright. We’re going to the hospital now. I’ll get the bag.”

He guides you to the couch, making sure you are seated comfortably before he disappears down the hall. You can hear the faint sound of drawers being opened and closed, and within moments, he’s back with the hospital bag slung over his shoulder.

Toji lifts you into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to the car. His movements are quick but careful. And even though he’d never admit it, you can feel the tension in his body, a rare vulnerability in a man who’s usually so unshakable.

As he settles you into the passenger seat, he leans down, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You’re strong. You can handle this, babe” he mutters, his voice firm but with an edge of softness that he rarely shows.

The drive to the hospital is swift as usual, Toji weaving through traffic with the same precision he uses in combat. But his now soft hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin as if trying to soothe both your pain and his own worry.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

His jaw is set, the muscles on his neck visible tense. And yet his voice is calm, grounding you during your fear and pain.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Toji is all efficiency. He barks orders at the staff, making sure everything is ready for your arrival with all their attention on you. Despite the situation, his grip on your hand is firm, his presence unwavering while he stays by your side through every step.

In the delivery room, as the pain intensifies, you squeeze his hand to death, your nails biting into his now injured skin. Toji doesn’t do so much as flinch, his focus entirely on you.

“Breathe,” he reminds you whenever you need to hear it, his voice steady and commanding.

You manage to look up at him between contractions. And for a brief moment, you see something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

Fear.

It’s fleeting, quickly replaced by his usual determination, but it was there, a reminder that beneath his tough exterior and his sometimes sharp tone towards you, Toji cares more than he’ll ever admit.

As the contractions grow stronger, Toji’s calm exterior begins to crack. He isn’t panicking, but you can see the worry etched into his features, the way his grip tightened just slightly every time you cry out in pain.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but soothing.

“Just a little longer.”

When the final push comes and the cries of your newborn fill the room, you see Toji’s shoulders relax ever so slightly through wet lashes. When he looks down at you, a small and rare smile tugs on the corner of his usual so neutral lips. Those lips you’ll never get tired of kissing. Those lips who can be used as a weapon, those lips that do in fact hurt you from time to time. You know this relationship can be toxic, that Toji Fushiguro isn’t the definition of a dream husband.

But at this very moment, with glistening eyes set on you and that smile forming on his face, you can think of nothing else.

“You did it,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with something that almost sounds like awe.

When the nurse places the baby in your arms, Toji’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Get some rest, babe.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your new family and with your eyelids slowly but surely growing heavy, you see a side of Toji that he rarely let anyone see: a man who is strong but also deeply, fiercely protective of the people he loves.

Especially you.

Suguru Geto

The afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains when you sit on the couch, folding the last of the baby clothes that Suguru insisted on organizing earlier that morning. You smile to yourself, thinking about how fussy he was, making sure everything was in its place for the baby’s arrival.

You feel a twinge in your lower abdomen, brushing it off as one of the many discomforts that accompanied the last few weeks of pregnancy. But the pain returns just a few seconds later, sharper this time. Your face turns pale when realization hits you with full force.

This isn’t just another cramp. Those are contractions.

“Suguru…” you call out, trying to keep your voice steady as another wave of pain washes over you.

Panic starts to creep in, even though you try to push it down. You need to stay calm, need to make your way to the hospital to finally deliver that baby.

Suguru appears in the doorway almost instantly, his usually serene expression replaced with pure concern as he crosses the room to your side.

“What is it? Are you alright?” he asks with gentle and yet tensioned voice.

“I think it’s time,” you whisper, clutching your belly when another contraction hit, more intense than the last.

“I think… I’m in labor.”

Labor.

For a moment, Suguru’s eyes widen, a rare flash of panic crossing his features. But as quickly as it came, it vanishes into his usual calm composure.

He kneels beside you, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

“Alright,” he replies softly, his voice like a balm to your frayed nerves.

“We’ll get through this. Let me get everything ready.”

Suguru stands and moves with a quiet efficiency, grabbing the hospital bag and making sure you have everything you need. You watch him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who, despite the panic of the situation, is doing everything he can to keep you calm.

Until another contraction hits you like a truck.

He’s back at your side in no time, helping you to your feet with a gentle touch.

“Lean on me,” he instructs softly, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you while you make your way to the car.

The drive to the hospital is surreal. Suguru’s hand never leaves yours, his presence a constant source of comfort. He speaks softly to you the entire time, his voice a steady rhythm that you can focus on, grounding you through coming and going contractions.

“You’re doing amazing,” he repeats over and over, his tone filled with quiet admiration.

You try to focus on his words, his calm demeanor helping to ease some of your anxiety. Suguru is always the calm in your storm, the one who can bring you back to center no matter how chaotic things are. And now, when the reality of labor starts to set in, you are more grateful than ever for his steady presence.

When you arrived at the hospital, Suguru springs into action immediately, helping you out of the car and into a wheelchair with the same gentle care he always shows. He stays close as the nurses wheel you into the delivery room, his hand never leaving yours.

As the contractions grow stronger, you find yourself gripping his hand tighter, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Suguru is right there with you, his voice a constant source of comfort.

“Breathe, love,” he whispers, his tone soothing.

“You’re doing so well.”

Despite the pain you find yourself focusing on his voice, letting it guide you through each contraction. Suguru’s presence is like a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of the pain and chaos. He always remains close, his forehead resting gently against yours as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs softly.

“Just a little more, and we’ll meet our baby.”

As the final push comes, you could feel Suguru’s grip on your hand tighten, his breath catching in his throat while watching you bring your child into the world. Within the next second, the sound of your baby’s first cry fills the room, and the first thing you see are tears glistening in Suguru’s eyes.

“You did it,” he breathes out, his voice thick with emotion as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible.”

The nurse places your baby in your arms and Suguru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression softening as he looks down at your child.

“Welcome to the world,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love for that little creature that makes your heart swell.

Satoru Gojo

You are lounging on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, which honestly seems impossible at this stage of pregnancy. Satoru is in the kitchen, probably making another one of his infamous midnight snacks. The two of you spent the day preparing for the baby’s arrival, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen, stealing your breath. You hold onto your belly, realization dawning on you as the pain increases more and more.

“Satoru!” you call out, your voice laced with urgency.

Almost instantly, Satoru appears in the doorway, a sandwich in one hand and a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s up?” he asks casually.

But when he sees the expression on your face, his carefree demeanor falters in an instant.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I think… I think it’s time,” you manage to press out, your voice trembling as another contraction hits.

You see the color drain from his face for a split second before his usual grin appears bac on his face.

“Oh, it’s go time!” he exclaims, dropping the sandwich onto the counter and rushing over to you.

“Alright, don’t worry, babe. I’ve got this. I’ll just finish that sandwich later,”

You can’t help but laugh despite the pain.

“You…You really think about that sandwich now?”

He helps you to your feet, his hands warm and steady as he guides you toward the door.

“Sure babe. Just breathe, okay? I’ll have you at the hospital in no time.”

He scoops you up with ease, carrying you to the car like you weigh nothing. As he settles you into the passenger seat, he is all smiles, though you could see the flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“You ready for this?” he questions, his voice filled with excitement.

The drive to the hospital is a blur of lights and Satoru’s voice, a constant stream of chatter meant to distract you from the pain and Backstreet Boys crying out of the radio. He weaves through traffic with an ease that only he can manage, glancing over at you every few seconds while humming.

“You’re doing amazing, babe. Just keep breathing.”

You squeeze his hand tightly, trying to focus on his voice as another contraction hits. Satoru’s grip tightens in response, and you can see the concern creeping into his usually carefree expression.

But he still keeps talking, trying to keep you calm with jokes, stories and boy bands, anything to make you smile.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Satoru is out of the car in a flash, helping you out and into a wheelchair with a surprising amount of gentleness. He holds your hand tightly as the nurses wheel you inside.

In the delivery room, Satoru stays by your side, his usual humor tempered by a seriousness you rarely saw.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face while you brace for another contraction.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Despite the pain, you manage a small smile. You, the strongest?

“No, you’re the strongest”, you press out.

He simply beams down at you while shrugging in a playful way. Satoru might joke around a lot, but in moments like this, you know you can count on him to be there for you.

As the labor progresses, you find yourself leaning on him more and more, his voice the only thing grounding you through the pain. Satoru’s grip on your hand never wavers, even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave marks.

“Just a little more, babe,” he purrs, his forehead pressed against yours as he helps you through the final push.

“You’re almost there.”

When your baby’s cries finally fill the room, you see the tension leave Satoru’s body all at once. He looks down at you, a wide grin spreading across his face, his eyes shining with tears he will never admit to.

“We did it,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

As the nurse placed your baby in your arms, Satoru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression one of pure awe.

“Hey there, little one,” he hushes softly.

You looked up at him, tears in your own eyes when you see the way he looks at your child:

With all the love and devotion he usually tries to hide behind jokes and smiles.

In that moment, you know that Satoru will be the best father, just as he’s the best partner.

“Now…are you in the mood for a sandwich?”

“Babies aren’t allowed to eat sandwiches, idiot.”

Ryomen Sukuna

You are lying in bed like you did those pasts days, trying to ignore the discomfort nagged at you all day. Ryomen Sukuna sits across the room, his crimson eyes watching you with a mixture of boredom and curiosity.

He was never one to show much concern, but you noticed the way his gaze had lingered on you more often as your due date approached.

Then, without warning, a sharp, intense pain shoots through your abdomen, making you gasp. You clutch at your belly, the realization hitting you hard.

“Sukuna…” you manage to whisper, your voice strained.

He’s by your side in an instant, faster than you ever saw him move.

“What is it?” he questions, his voice low and dangerous, as if he’s ready to eliminate whatever was causing you pain.

“I think… I think it’s happening,” you press out, trying to keep your voice steady as another contraction hits.

“The baby is coming.”

For a moment, Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his usual arrogance replaced by something you can’t quite place.

“So, it begins,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

Without another word, he lifts you into his arms, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You’re not going to die from this, are you?” he comments, a hint of irritation in his voice, though you know him well enough to recognize the concern beneath it.

You manage a weak smile.

“No, I’m not going to die.”

“Good,” he mutters, his tone gruff as he carries you out of the room.

“I won’t tolerate weakness from the woman birthing my child.”

Despite his harsh words, you can feel the tension in his body radiating from his firm muscles, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly when you wince in pain. Sukuna was always a creature of power and control, and the fact that he can’t do anything to stop your pain seems to frustrate him.

How ironic.

He carries you outside, where a car waits - something he arranged without you even realizing it. Sukuna isn’t usually one to rely on human conveniences, but for you, he obviously made an exception.

“A car?”

“Shut up, brat. Teleporting us into the hospital might be too dangerous. I…I don’t know much about a pregnancy…”

“I can tell that.”

The drive to the hospital is silent, save for the sound of your labored breathing and the occasional growl from Sukuna when you tense in pain. He sits beside you, his eyes never leaving your face, watching you with an intensity that borders on obsessive.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Sukuna carries you inside, ignoring the shocked looks from the staff as he barks orders at them. His presence is intimidating, and no one dares question him as he demands the best care for you.

In the delivery room, Sukuna stays close, his usual arrogance tempered by something you rarely saw in him - worry.

“You’re stronger than this,” he tells you, his voice low and commanding as you fight through another contraction.

“You will not be defeated by something as trivial as childbirth.”

His words are harsh, but you can hear the underlying concern, the way his eyes soften ever so slightly when you cry out in pain. Sukuna was never one to show weakness, but in this moment, you can see that he’s in fact afraid. Afraid of losing you, afraid of something happening that he can’t control. Him, the king of curses, not in charge for this situation?

As the labor progresses, you find yourself relying on his strength, his presence a strange comfort in the midst of the pain. Sukuna’s hand find yours, his grip firm and unyielding, as if he tries to share his power with you, to keep you grounded in the storm of pain that washes over you.

“You will get through this,” he growls, his voice filled with an authority that doesn’t allow another argument.

“You are mine, and I will not let anything happen to you.”

When the final push comes, you can feel Sukuna’s grip tighten, his breath hitching as your baby’s cries echo through the room. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with something that might be shock. Or perhaps awe? You are too exhausted and filled with emotions to care.

“You did it,” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks at the tiny, wriggling form in your arms.

“You really did it.”

For a moment, Sukuna is silent, staring down at the baby with an expression you’ve never seen before - an almost hesitant curiosity.

Slowly and hesitating, he reached out, his large hand resting gently on the baby’s dark head.

“This… is ours,” he mutters, his voice filled with a strange mix of pride and possessiveness.

You nod, tears filling your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Yes, ours.”

He might be the king of curses, a being of immense power and cruelty, but in this moment, he is also a father, and you know that he’ll protect you and your child with everything he has.

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