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sleep-0-deprived · 1 month ago

Note

Before I start, I just wanna say I love your work, keep it up!!

A bit of a feminine m!reader and a stalker, kind of like the song stalker’s tango by autoheart (praise kink and anything you wanna add)

Love me love me love me~! (Stalker Oc x feminine male reader) ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

WC:. 1.5k

Tags: praise kink, back shots, creepy character, dub con (reader doesn’t say but he wants it), stalking, spit as lube, men in panties, college AU, p in a sex, bad prepping(basically no prep cause he wants reader to feel em), slight Yandere themes?, coming inside panties, lil come play<33

A/N thanks for the request! I didn’t know your kinks so I tried to keep it pretty vanil for the fic but I just get the vibe that the stalker is a lil bit of a yandere ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

College was the time you were supposed to be the most happiest. freedom, no parents breathing down your neck and looking at you wearing your new skirts and finally away from Him…anyway this is the beginning of something new and that made you terrified excited.

Here you were grabbing boxes from the back of a hand me down car you bought last year, your hands full walking around campus searching for your dorm room. The sound of other college students bustling past even a frat boy running through the corridor laughing while another man smacks his shoulder.

Your heels clicking on the floors getting into the elevator finally out of view of the other students, not caring if they stared at you when you walked past them in your little skirt.

Finally finding your door room, room 234 in the third wing on campus. Pulling the door open and then it happens, the boxes nearly dropping from your hand “Jasper?..” the man that single handedly ruined your teen years, the man you filed a restraining order against- the one that stalked you since middle school, putting cameras inside your shower, under your bed.

There he stood in all his glory, black hair all messy with his green eyes piercing you over like an interested cat, a crooked grin on his lips looking at you like some god before him. You quickly sit your boxes down on the twin bed to the left of the room with your hands now by your side looking at him.

“Did you miss me any [name]? I really missed you, so goddamn much” he walks over to you leaning down and shoving his face into your neck breathing in your scent without a care in the world “how’d you find me Jasper…my parents made sure you didn’t know the colleges I applied for” your lips pressed into a thin line standing stiff and finding no comfort in the man’s touch.

“I total you I’d never leave you baby? Can’t live without you [name] I wouldn’t wanna” he kisses his way down grabbing at the hem of your shirt slipping under it and massaging his palms into your sides.

“Y’know I don’t want you Jasper, I never have so just stop” you mutter out all squeaky trying to get away even if your body knew you wanted it, even if you couldn’t deny you found him hot you’d never admit it so you did the next best thing and tried to push away but only failing in return.

“Don’t lie to me baby, you’re already getting hard so hard in that little skirt, it’s like you’re asking for me to fuck you?” His lips muffle themselves against your skin starting to suck it red while holding you pined between him and the wall while his second hand makes its way down to your mini skirt starting to lift it.

“Dammit Jasper… stop that” you speak out because you’re in to deep to say otherwise feeling your cock bulging in the pink panties you were wearing. You had no stockings under your skirt letting your bulge get exposed while you go red in the face feeling jaspers hand snaking down giving it a rough squeeze before pulling his lips off your neck breathing heavy in your ear.

“Just be a good boy and bend over for me sweetheart” you don’t know why but you walked over to your twin size bed, not even getting on it just bending over on the side of it and shoving your face into the sheets standing in a pair of heels spreading your thighs.

“Mh, baby so fucking beautiful, no idea how long I’ve been imagining this” he lifts your skirt in the back showing off the cotton fabric with little bows riding up between your cheeks making him smile reading his hands down and grabbing your cheeks spreading them and watching how your rim puckers up against the panties.

His thumb rubbing down your crack spitting on your panties and using his thumb to rub the now translucent fabric against your bud making sure to get it nice and wet while you lay with your cock weeping against the mattress feeling your knees buckle from the feeling.

“O-h you’re a pervert Jasper!” You yelp out and try to yell at him but fail when he reaches his hand off your ass cheek and grabs the back of your neck shoving it into the bed making your voice get muffled, “such a cruel accusation [name] I’m not perverse, I just love you baby?”

He’d coo to you from behind while the hand messing and teasing with your rim finally pulls your panties to the side of your ass just admiring how you’d clench around the air so effortlessly, your rim half prepped from all those nights you’d whine and finger yourself in your bed. Which of course he knew about back then, he had cameras?

“Want me to fuck it?” He’d ask you softly even though you knew he was going to fuck you either way “y-eah” you nod into the pillows gasping when he lets go of the back of your neck to undo his jeans making sure your skirt was pushed upwards on your waist, “you should really get a tramp stamp sweetheart, get me something all pretty to aim at when I’m coming all over that pretty arch”

Your face went red as a beat becoming more thankful he was behind you so he couldn’t see your reaction but he already knew it when your rim winked at him again trying to swallow his finger tip like quicksand having him all giddy and infatuated with you. Jasper having been waiting years to get his cock nuzzled between those perky little cheeks.

“So warm sweetie, just gonna fuck you so nice baby” his voice comes out rigid pulling his boxers down letting his manhood spring free finally standing tall against his t shirt before he presses his dick between your cheeks and uses his hands to grip both cheeks sandwiching his cock between them as he rocks his hips spitting down on your ass again using it as lube fucking between your cheeks having your face down and your ankles bending out in your heels.

“Just push in already Jasper, don’t fuckin tease me~” you moan reaching your hand down to your panties starting to palm yourself through the panties feeling yourself soaking the Cotten closing your eyes just feeling what’s happening to your body having you melting like ice cream during summer.

“Always a greedy boy weren’t you?…well doesn’t matter, still love you” he speaks nudging his pudgy cock head against your rim spreading the muscle open wide making him hiss “fuck that’s it sweetie” he tilts his head back rubbing your ass cheeks softly trying to get you to loosen up around him having him on cloud nine scrunching his nose up bottoming out inside you ready to come on the spot.

“Jas— oh’m g-od” you croak and choke on your words going loose and fuzzy in the head just laying with your ankle wobbling to stay bent in your heels just screwing your eyes shut only opening them with he gives your ass cheek a little smack letting you adjust to his girth. Jasper bucks his hips forward making your face droop back down as his hips squish your plump skin.

Your hands going limp like jello under you unable to palm your neglected cock, just laying with your body limp letting him have his way with you praying to whatever was up in the sky that other students didn’t hear Jasper giving you back-shots on your first day at campus. “You have no idea h’many nights I imagined getting myself inside your pretty body, mmh you’re worth the wait sweetheart”

You feel your rim on fire when his base stretches you wider making your back arch trying to take him, your cock jumps in your panties at his dirty praises having you in hysterics hating the man but also just wanting him to hold you close and fuck you like you deserve, you’d never tell him though. “You can start movin-!” You cry out arching under him gripping the bedsheets tight.

“Shh stay quite sweetheart, stay nice and sweet for me [name]” Jasper speaks softly moaning under his breath bucking his hips feeling a hot flash in his abdomen trying not to come before you but goddamn you were like heaven around him, you were his addiction, his ambrosia and he couldn’t get enough.

The sound of flesh in flesh filling up the dorm, his hands gliding over your body gripping the skin like a feral dog fucking you from behind having you reaching for the wall while the bed creaks shaking back and forth while your eyes open back up going wide and dumb when his cock assaults York inner walls hitting your sweet spot having you loosening up not clenching his cock so tight, jaspers hands pulling in your panties from behind making them tighter in the front, making your cock pulse against the firm fabric

“Please Jas, please just—“ you beg, you break you fold flush like a bad poker game not even knowing what you were pleading for just knowing you needed to come so bad your balls were swelling up going red in your panties about to explode when his cock halts pushing further and further against your prostate like a rubber band being stretched and pressed further and further about to snap.

“Please what sweetheart? Tell me what you want, promise I’ll give it to you” he speaks to you like a doll in complete opposites to how he was fucking you, his hands reaching letting go of your panties making you squeal from the release of pressure, he keeps fucking you thrusting and pumping his hips pressing his pubes to York lower back reaching up under you to your stomach to hold you up.

Holding you up half off the bed fucking you harder with your face still in the sheets and your hips raised high for him mewling feeling your favorite skirt go higher up on you. “Please make me cum, please get me off Jasper” you whine and you spasm around his dick. Your rim trying to take more until his balls press against yours, running together when he fucks into you.

“Come for me baby, just let go, lemme make it all better for you doll” his pace picks up fucking you like some jack rabbit in heat. His hands tugging at your belly leaning forwards leaning back down laying on top of you bent over the bed heaving in your ear kissing the red marks he made on your neck snaking one hand down inside your panties tugging on your cock.

“S’ happening jas, gonna come” you can’t help but to shiver and let go of the bedsheets arching your back against his stomach crying out wailing all cock drunk slurring your words while your cock pulses in his hand coming all inside your panties only further soiling them when the thick ropes leave your red cock head feeling like a release through your whole body having your balls relax a little once they’re fully emptied.

“There’s my good boy, I knew you were a sweetheart, just needed a little pounding to bring it out” Jasper kisses your neck sucking on the red marks using his canines to pinch the skin letting go York your cock and slamming into you harder becoming less in rhythm and more desperate to get off.

You can feel his balls drawling up when they press against your ass, his veins rubbing more prominent against your inner walls having you biting your bottom lip with your toes curling in your heels while he thrusts one more time inside you piling out with a loud gasp “o-h fuck [name] feel what you do to me?” He asks shuddering behind you fucking between your spit slick ass cheeks letting his cock nudge your rim but never actually pushing in.

The next thing you know hot ropes of cum pump out spewing all over your hole getting between your cheeks feeling the hot liquid running down your arch getting on your back and your skirt practically coating you like he meant it. “Thought you were pretty before but admit seeing you covered in my cum makes you even prettier”

He lifts his head from your neck whispering the words out to you before slipping his hands from under you and massaging the cum all over your body rubbing your cheeks down with it slipping two slickened fingers inside you again playing with you before pulling out.

“Let me have a date baby, I promise I can treat you so good, I’ll be so sweet to you I’ll be s’much better than your ex was” he whispers to you cooing like a snake in the garden of Eden ready to tempt you into his sinful world. “You’re fucking crazy Jasper” you huff lifting your head laying now lifting yourself up on your elbows with your body aching from the rough fucking you just took, his hand marks and imprints leaving your skin swollen.

“I’m only crazy for you, you’re the only man that makes me feel it…only wanna kiss N’ love, only wanna come on you sweetie”

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month ago

Text

haunted

in which spencer reid takes you to a haunted house and you're being very brave about it... sort of.

fluff! warnings/tags: reader wears a skirt, reader is a scaredy cat!!, established relationship, kithing, my favs derek and penelope featured, haunted house stuff, talk about the physical composition of human eyeballs and mentions of harvesting them/eating them but it's not serious, FAKE very fake Halloween gore, I know those tags just escalated so quickly my bad, mention of a spooky clown, just haunted house stuff ok!! but its really not a scary fic I promise!!!! a/n: this is for my bff @gublersg1rl !!!! I hope u all like!!!!! Also yes the title was extremely creative I was feeling divinely inspired and revolutionary let’s not talk abt it

“Okay, no, no—maybe we don’t have to go in. I don’t think it’s gonna be that good.”

As you say it you’re wearily eyeing the crowd of screaming teenagers who are sprinting from the haunted house attraction’s exit, leaving a trail a swirling leaves and candy wrappers in their wake. Spencer laughs, gently hugging you back to him as you subconsciously begin to drift away from the line.

“I knew this would happen.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re scared. You want to chicken out.”

“I don’t,” you snap, stepping back and adjusting your sweater. “I’m just… I’m cold. I wanna go back to the car.” Spencer does some adjustments of his own, coming close and reaching around you as if going in for a hug but instead tugging your skirt down slightly in the back. You let him finish and then bat his hand away. “Would you stop that?”

“You said you were cold! I’m trying to help you.”

“By making my skirt one inch longer? That’s not going to help.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t touch.”

Immediately your serrated edge is dulled and you lean against him, barely steering clear of a pout. “No, please. You’re warm. And you’ll protect me.”

He smiles down at you, cheeks and nose nipped sweet pink by the chilly breeze. His hair looks very nice today, his eyes are extra sparkly in the dark, and he’s framed by mostly bare tree branches scattered around the fairground—nothing more than dark palms clawing at the sky, a full white moon cradled in between black branches. The autumnal night is perhaps too cold for the tartan mini skirt you’d chosen, but Spencer told you it looked nice. Of course he doesn’t put up a fight when you slip your arms around his waist under his coat—only wraps his arms around you in return.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you. But between us Derek and Penelope will bear the brunt of the jump scares.”

“Who said my name?”

You look over your shoulder to where Penelope is shivering despite wearing her own and Derek’s coat, and Derek is eyeing the two of you, enjoying a bag of caramel corn like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, and you laugh to yourself, pulling him even closer like you’re trying to leech the warmth from his body. “Okay, you do have to face forward though. I don’t want you to trip.”

“No, Spencer!” You argue, but he’s already unlatching your arms from his middle and turning you in place.

“You’re fine,” he chuckles, holding onto your hips. “I’m right here. Be brave.”

The line has begun to move forward again, and this time, it’s not stopping. Your heart pounds as at the behest of a teenaged bloody scarecrow you follow Derek and Penelope into the dark mouth of the red clapboard facade—a sort of farmhouse design that had seemed charming from afar and deeply sinister up close. Speakers play a loud creaking sound over spooky music and your eyes slowly adjust to reveal a foggy corridor lined with doors and creepy paintings.

As soon as the first evil little girl pops out of a doorway, you scream right along with Penelope.

“Oh, my god,” Spencer laughs under his breath as you stop dead in your tracks, holding the group behind you up. When Penelope and Derek move on, you stay stuck, knowing that the threat has disappeared for the moment but still looms. Spencer gently ushers you forward. “Stay close behind Penelope, and it won’t be as scary. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“I hate this so much.”

But he ignores your comment, guiding you forward down the shadowy hallway and whispering the beginnings of a tangent over your shoulder.

“You know, the first haunted house attraction was in London in 1915 at a fairground just like this. They picked up in America during the Great Depression as an attempt to distract young hooligans from resorting to property damage for fun.”

“Hooligans?” You mutter, teasing him even while terrified, carefully eyes the suspicious staircase leading up to a fenced in landing, shrouded in darkness. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

Just then a man with a sack over his head and bloody axe emerges from the black, launching himself down the stairs. Again, you scream, this time sprinting out of Spencer’s hold and through a cobweb veil into the next room.

“Jesus fuck!” You gasp, clutching your chest as someone made up to be a sweet old grandma gone mad and soaked in blood and viscera turns around to greet you with a manic grin.

“Oh, a pretty girl! Is that you, dear? My long lost granddaughter? Or did I put her in a pie?”

The acting is subpar at best, the script even worse, but what really discomforts you are the bloodied rubber limbs swinging from the ceiling and the fog machine in the corner that keeps burping out thick white clouds with a little hiss. You turn around, running directly into Spencer’s chest. He catches you by the waist and you cling to him, digging your feet in to try and stop either of you from proceeding any closer to your new friend.

“And your lover—so handsome! Mm, what a delicious pairing you two’ll make! Maybe in my specialty cream of eyeball soup?”

She cackles. Spencer pushes you carefully forward as you peer over his lapel, and he actually stops to look into the woman’s pot as she stirs it.

“Spencer—”

“You know—the human eyeball is by all accounts difficult to harvest without essentially popping the outer wall of muscle and connective tissue and then you’re losing the structure of the sphere—and stop me if you know this—but water constitutes about 98 percent of vitreous and aqueous humor which in turn make up eighty percent of the total volume of the eye so to say your soup would be cream of eyeball is—”

“Buddy, you’re holding up the line!” Someone shouts from behind, and Spencer offers an awkward apology to the grandma who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable, hurrying you along through the kitchen from hell.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you hiss, still clinging to him. “That poor woman probably thinks you’re a serial killer now.”

“I was trying to humanize her for your benefit—”

Another scream from someone else, another cheap jump scare, cuts him off, and by this point you have your eyes squeezed shut, squeaking at every noise, and Spencer is damn near carrying you through the haunted house, walking you awkwardly backward through the various rooms.

He cradles the back of your head and presses his lips to your ear as a chainsaw revs somewhere nearby and you hear Derek and Penelope yelping just ahead. “You’re being so brave,” Spencer murmurs, though you don’t miss the smile in his voice. "If I was a malevolent spectre I would definitely steer clear of you. I'd be too intimidated."

“Shut up. Ah!”

“Baby, that was a plant. You know the actors can’t touch you, right? You’re not in any danger.”

“I don’t like being scared, Spencer.”

“Then why did you suggest the haunted house? I said we should do the maze.”

“I don’t know! I—” another man popping out of the wall, another roar that you only hear, sequestered safely against your boyfriend’s coat. “Oh my god, are we almost done? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, the entrance is right ahead. No more actors, okay? I can see the whole room, it’s totally empty.”

“I bet that's what they want you to think, they lull you into a false sense of security and then—”

Cold air kisses the back of your legs as Spencer walks you toward the door, and the stifled soundscape widens again as you exit the house breathing air that doesn’t smell like sawdust and fog machine juice and fake blood.

“Nope. We're really all done, see?”

“You survived! Oh my god, I survived!” Penelope calls, and you lift your head from Spencer’s chest, looking up at him. He’s grinning, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“You honestly handled that better than I thought you would. I actually think I saw the guy dressed as a clown jump when you screamed.”

“If I ever say I wanna do something scary again please don’t listen to me. I hated that so much.”

He examines your face for a moment before determining that despite your rattled nerves, you’ll be okay, and comforts you with a quick peck. “Do you wanna go get caramel apples now?”

“Yes, please. And then can we do the maze, and just like—I don’t know, sit there and… meditate for a little while?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just… don’t think about what could be lurking in the corn.”

You give him a little shove. “You know, I only did that haunted house thing because I know how much you love Halloween. I’m being a good girlfriend and what do I get?”

He pulls you close again and kisses your hand.

“You get a caramel apple,” he says, like it’s obvious, and more than that—worth every trouble in the world. “Come on.”

You give him a begrudging smile and allow him to lead you, hand in hand. Maybe it is.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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landograndprix · 10 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞

part one - part ii

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ Everything seems to be going right and life seems amazing, at least to the others..not for you.

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ this came to me as I was running a high fever, stop judging me..i also needed a charles fic here, No lando in this one yet, Charles ain't a real good partner and google translate is my bestest friend

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charlesgirlies

liked by 456 others

charlesgirlies Charles and Zoë in y/n's story today 🥰

view all 189 comment

cahlossainz oh

chilisainz oh my god I'm dead 😭

↳ bott_ass bestie same

charles16 she needs to keep feeding us dad Charles please!!

leclerc_16 volunteering to be his baby mama

lanlan Zoë is just the cutest little bean 🥰

↳ charlesgirlies she is! 🥰

lanlan lil cutie like her mom :)

charlesgirlies and her dad!

charloslesainz y/n living my dream life 😭

landoscar I just know zoë has Charles wrapped around her finger

yukisan didn't know y/n and charles were together let alone have a kid 😂

↳ clsixteen have you been living under a rock? It was a big scandal when they were seen together 5 years ago?? 😭

yukisan I'm new so i dont have all the lore, just thought they were friends because they both come from Monaco 😅

leckerkcharles y/n the predator and her victims

mrsleclerc love that there's still people in the comments being mad about them dating 💀

↳ carlandooo for real it's been 5 years people and charles is not little sauber Charles anymore 🤡

charlesgirlies people be acting like y/n is 40 years older than charles

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y/nusername

📍 Sicily, italy

liked by charles_leclerc, noellepicard and 369,989 others

y/nusername babes big day out 🏖

tagged: noellepicard, manon_roux

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noellepicard she's a little mermaid 🧜🏻‍♀️

charlesssss I can't, she's the cutest 😭

charles_leclerc princesse ❤️

↳ charloslesainz stop it, he's such a girl dad imma throw up

hamilt44n man is made to be a dad honestly

manon_roux lucky to have the prettiest girls in the world with me 🥰

↳ joris__trouche je n'ai pas reçu mon invitation? (i didn't get my invite)

y/nusername probablement parce que je n'en ai pas envoyé :) (probably because i didn't send one)

joris__trouche comportement inacceptable (unacceptable behaviour)

charles_leclerc Joris est une des filles maintenant 😂 (joris is one of the girls now)

y/nusername Je devrais lui acheter une mini-jupe et des talons hauts pour nos prochaines vacances :') (should buy him a mini skirt and some high heels for our next vacation)

manon_roux j'aimerais voir cela se produire 🤣 (i'd love to see that happen)

joris__trouche j'aurais l'air sexy et tu ne peux pas le nier (i'd look sexy and you can't deny it)

sharl16 no idea what they're saying but I agree 😭

landoscar her little feeties 🥺

leclerc_16 am I the only one who finds it strange that they haven't been together this summer break?

↳ carlosleclerc they were bestie, they spend time together with friends in Monaco last week..they're both on their girls and boys vacation..pretty normal

leclerc_16 oh I've missed that part..still something feels off

carlosleclerc I mean y/n gave birth to their daughter not that long ago and its probably not the best idea to fly with a new born/baby all around the world. I'm sure they're fine..

leclerc_16 mmm you're probably right, would hate to see them split up though

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 327,888 others

y/nusername juste toi et moi à l'infini, petite fille 💗 (just you and me to infinity, little girl.)

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noellepicard 😍

yourmumsuser mes anges ❤️ (my angels)

charloslesainz 'just you and me' doesn't sit right with me lmfao

↳ thurthur my god it's just a caption 💀

landoscar for real they're always reaching for things

thurthur they always trying to start shit and it's getting annoying and repetitive

clsixteen never seen such a cute kid 🥰

francisca.cgomes need to meet her soon!

↳ y/nusername your always welcome!

bananaclerc cutest little bunny 🐰

manon_roux mon lapinou ❤️ (my bunny)

joris__trouche mon petit monstre ❤️ (my little monster)

↳ hamilt44n stop this kid is so loved 😭

sainzleclerc feeding the delulu fans with that caption

↳ charlesgirlies it's literally just a damn caption!!!

sainzleclerc I know but the crazy charles girlies haven't seen them together in a while and don't forget Charles hasn't mentioned zoë in a while.. things add up in their heads 🤡

charles_leclerc mes princesses ❤️

↳ y/nusername 🥰

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y/nusername posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728

Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2

let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist

#charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando x reader #charles x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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weltraum-vaquero · 10 days ago

Text

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3] (coming soon)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, who delights in being a bit of a dick, and becomes even more mean on bad pain days, and who is constantly insufferably rightfully smug, Smart & competent reader being reduced to a wolf with heart eyes going AWOOOGA when they lay eyes on Viktor.

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: 1. Shoutout to my beloved buddies for helping me with this fic, AND the banner. You guys know who you are. 2. I hope you enjoy this very self indulgent piece about my take on Viktor as a professor in a modern AU. Keep in mind that this work is entirely spoiler free. Although it will be posted over the upcoming three weeks as arcane season two drops, I had no information about any of the leaks whatsoever as I wrote this, and did my utmost to avoid them. This iteration of Viktor was written with his season one character traits as a base in mind. 3. The science Viktor and reader talk about in depth in this fic is entirely made up and definitely falls apart under scrutiny. Don’t look too hard. Yes, I made up an entire hextech based scientific field specifically so I could carnally have this old man.

You know exactly what to expect from someone like Professor Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda.

You’ve done your homework on the man: interviewed colleagues who’d taken his lectures as undergrads (scary — but great at his job had been the general consensus), and checked his ratemyprofessor profile. Which, by the way, had been a terrific read.

Dr Sidorov-Svoboda is a very polarizing man, it seems. Reviews were either raving about his cogency, or saying they’d drive to his lecture without wearing a seatbelt in the hopes that death would take them before Sidorov did. There seemed to be no in-between, other than one review calling him a total DILF and rating him five out of five for that alone.

You digress. All sources had gotten across more than enough for you to understand what you were going to face once you’d step into his office: brilliant, tenured, independent, a no-nonsense attitude, and with a spotless track record of turning down TAs.

Which you’re here to change — the last part, that is.

It’s not exactly a guilt-free affair. Dr Heimerdinger — the dean himself — had personally reached out to you, and requested you try to convince Sidorov-Svoboda to accept you as his TA. Should you succeed, you would be offered a generous wage.

That, along with the fact that Sidorov’s name is going to pretty up your CV something fierce if you somehow land this job, is reason enough to make you at the very least give it a go.

With a fortifying breath, you rap your knuckles on the oakwood of his office door.

“Yes?” A heavy accent makes itself known on the y.

You wait to see if he’ll open — five seconds pass — he doesn’t.

Rude.

You take that as your cue to push the door open yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you for the man whose cat-like eyes pierce you from above rectangular silver reading glasses. He hadn’t even bothered lifting his head from what he’d been reading through; and when he finally does grant you the gift of being looked at, wholly, it feels the same way as having a painting stare back at you. In the back of your mind, you swear you can hear the horns of an orchestra blaring into a crescendo.

His gaze pierces you, in a way that borders on literal. It’s undressing — less erotic, and more terrifying, as a consequence of nakedness, of being read. Professor Sidorov-Svoboda looks at you with a kind of disinterest that screams I have you figured out, and it’s punching your heart down into your stomach in a lovely, terrible way.

The lines of his face are lovingly crafted. Dark shadows under hollow cheeks, golden eyes under strong brows, there’s something intrinsically statuesque about his face. You’d expect to look at something akin to Sidorov-Svoboda in a museum, carved in marble, not in one of the dusty offices at your university.

He cocks his head, exposing a long, swan-like neck dotted with beauty marks, as he waits for you to regain your wits. Which you do, before any of this crosses the threshold between awkward and downright embarrassing.

“Hello, doctor,” you finally manage. “My name is (y/n) (l/n), theoretical arcanism department, phD student. I was… hoping we could discuss a position as your TA.”

He cocks a brow, thoroughly unimpressed, before he slides his glasses off his face. He even takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee, deliberately slow in swallowing it, before he finally speaks.

“I believe you should already be familiar with the fact that I do not take assistants.” Sidorov leans forward in his chair a fraction, still poring over his book, and there is a marked pop in one of his joints that sounds nothing short of painful. He seems hardly bothered by it.

“I am,” you reply. “Which is why I am here in the hopes of changing your mind.”

That finally makes him look at you properly again. It’s a delight. You wish you could savor it, instead of desperately trying to keep your wits about you.

“And why would you want to do that?”

The answer to that question has changed substantially since you’d first stepped foot into his office.

But you’re fortunately not stupid enough to tell him that.

“Your name is worth gold in the community, doctor. I would like it on my resume.”

He picks up his pen, squinting as he scribbles something in his book, before he hums with disinterest.

“Mm. I heard doctor Pididdly takes more kindly to flattery.” He brushes a grey strand of hair from his face, clicking his pen as he simply lets you stew in your own embarrassment and focuses on whatever he’s reading. When he speaks again, he does not award you the honor of feigning the smallest hint of interest. “And you can send doctor Heimerdinger my regards. Let him know I am still not looking for an assistant.”

He has you figured out, and it’s making you feel dumber than any advanced class has ever had the honor of doing.

“The dean? I haven’t spoken to him since—“

“Since last year, when you took his theoretical arcane force fields class? Or was it since he explicitly asked you to come to my office with this proposition?”

You’re not the only one who’s done their research on the other. Though it’s painfully clear that he was much more thorough in his pursuit.

“I’m… sorry.”

“For wasting both our time? You should be.” He does dignify you with one glance, and even sets his pen down, as he bids you goodbye.

—

You’re fortunately not a sore loser. The money and resume addition would have been nice, yes, but you suppose they still would not have made up for working with someone as sharp and cutting as Svoboda.

You’ll gladly take the loss. And you are.

He’s long gone from the front of your mind, though something about him — his gaze, his face, his voice — lingers and shrouds the back of your brain with a tempting distraction from your thesis.

The last thing you expect as you’re burning your retinas staring at the blue light of your laptop screen leafing through the countless open tabs on your laptop is a notification. It startles you out of your skin, the red dot next to the university portal app’s icon.

Still, more curious than nervous about who could be messaging you at 11pm on a Saturday, you click.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Good evening. Please come see me in my office on Monday. I would like to discuss the arrangements of your future employment as my assistant. Let me know what time would work best for you, within the limitations of my office hours.

11:32

…What?

You wonder what swayed his mind in your ultimate favor after you’d embarrassed yourself quite so thoroughly this week. But you're not about to complain — you more than certainly need the money, and his name on your resume.

Whatever turned the odds in your favor, you’re ever-grateful. And as much as you hate to admit it, you do double-check the message to make sure it’s actually real.

Thank you for this opportunity, professor. I’m looking forward to working as your assistant, as well as broadening my knowledge and skills. Would 1 PM work for you?

11:34

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Yes. That should be fine.

11:34

You think you should leave it at that. You know you should. But… you’re curious. You really hope this doesn’t cost you the job offer you’ve just received.

May I ask what swayed your decision?

11:37

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

You may not. Good night.

11:37

So much for that.

—

You knock, but this time you don’t wait after being greeted with a yes? from behind his imposing office door.

“Hello, Professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

You’re greeted with the distinctive smell of chicken stock and vegetables wafting from his office as you step in — a sore reminder of the fact that you’ve yet to procure lunch. Whatever he’s been eating, it smells tremendous.

His thermos squeaks as he screws it shut and sets it on the corner of his desk, gesturing for you to have a seat.

“Hello.” The faux velvet seat creaks awkwardly below you. “Thank you for your punctuality. I won’t take up too much of your time — we’ll discuss any questions you might have in further detail, but, to, eh… save us time, I’ve compiled a list of your responsibilities, and some personal preferences regarding grading papers I expect you to take into consideration when you do so.”

As he explains, you take a moment to take in his office. You certainly hadn’t gotten to it last time.

It’s mainly tidy, save for his large desk, which is littered with papers, a sudoku magazine, a disposable coffee cup from the campus cafe (though the cup is tall, roughly fit for a latte, if you had to guess… hm) and his dark blue, slightly beat-up thermos. Upon closer inspection, there’s a sticker on the cap.

It’s a small thing, worn like the rest of it, but the colours are unmistakable. Baby blue, pink, white — five stripes.

As a million questions and half a million answers start flashing through your head, the rustle of paper snaps you out of your thoughts.

There’s something analytical and vaguely, barely amused about how he looks at you when he slides the list across the table to you.

Contrary to what you expect, it’s not long. His main demand is grading papers, which isn’t your preferred kind of labor, but labor you will chew through, no less.

“I expect fairness when you grade,” he clarifies. “Contrary to what some students like to say, I grade papers with utmost integrity. I am not lenient, yes, but I am not absurd, either. You will find further guidelines on how to strike that, eh… balance yourself on the list I’ve made. And don’t hesitate to ask, should any uncertainties arise when you grade.”

“Fortunately, it’s applied arcanism,” you reply. “Not much room for… uncertainties, I’d expect.”

“You would be surprised.”

Viktor gives a knowing smile. Something about the placement of his mole right above the corner of his mouth, where his chapped, pale lips thin out, has your vision tunneling. You damn near startle when he starts talking again — good god, you need to get your act together.

“I will direct students’ questions to you, from now on. Should you not have an answer, you are welcome to contact me — but keep it to a minimum. Especially since applied arcanism is, as you seem to think, such an easy topic. As for lectures, you may attend, but it isn’t something I’ll be expecting from you. You teaching said lectures does not come into question. I have standards — high ones. If anyone is to take over, it will be someone whom I am certain is qualified for the job, not a phD student.”

“I am still prepared to,” you say. “Should the opportunity… present itself.”

“It most likely won’t.” With that, he straightens his back out in his seat, cracking the knuckle of his right thumb as he leans back in thought, going over his mental list. “Do you have any questions for me?”

His little smirk is magnetic, crows feet near his eyes creasing ever so slightly deeper as the corners of his lips rise. One of his dark brows lifts gently in a display of smugness that leaves you braindead enough to nearly miss the entirety of his next sentence. “Other than the one from Saturday night?”

Oh, damn him. Damn him.

And, as a matter of fact, you have about ten more. But none of them are even close to appropriate to ask — not now, or ever.

“No,” you lie. It somehow feels like he can see right through it.

“Very well. Thank you for your time.”

You thank him too. You’re not sure what for — his sudden generosity to offer you this position, or simply for the fact that he looked so pretty while he talked.

—

You, by now, know what optional really means in academia. Above all else, it’s meant to be an abstract line that separates two distinct groups: those who put in the extra effort, and slackers.

You don’t want Sidorov-Svoboda to know you as the latter.

Which is why you get a hold of his lecture schedule from Heimerdinger on the very same Monday afternoon, and plan on attending every single one of them that doesn’t overlap with something else in your schedule. Until he either outright tells you to stop, or until your contract as his assistant ends.

Much to your surprise, most of his lectures, save for Wednesdays and one on Fridays, do fit into your schedule as well.

On Tuesday, you are thirty minutes early waiting outside his office door.

And, as much as it shouldn’t be, it is a little funny how he startles when he groggily wobbles out of his office, keys in hand, and a cane in the other.

It’s a gorgeously designed thing; so much so it has you (stupidly) guessing it’s strictly in use for aesthetics the moment you first see it. It’s made of sturdy wood, with a dark finish and golden details down the length of it. The wood on the handle has gone light and matte with use.

But judging by how he leans on it as he numbly turns to lock the door of his office behind himself while he greets you leads to a different conclusion. And the stagger in his stride as he approaches you only confirms that he does, in fact, need it.

“Good morning, doctor Si—“

He raises his free hand slowly, like it’s heavy with fatigue. It’s enough to shut you up.

“Viktor,” he says. “Please. Just call me Viktor, from now on.” He pauses, looking you up and down with a fatigued sort of near-jealousy, before he shakes his head. “Why… are you here at seven thirty in the morning?”

“I want to attend your lectures.”

He sighs.

“And you picked the one at this hour?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” You can’t quite tell if he’s displeased or if he’s just really tired.

“Rough morning?” You ask.

“Aren’t they all…”

It certainly isn’t your intention to let it become a habit — you’re his assistant, not his secretary, but you’ve learned that sucking up does get you forward in academia more often than not, so you offer: “Would you like me to get you some coffee?”

“I am getting myself coffee.” He attempts to stifle a yawn, but does not succeed. “But I would like you to accompany me.”

Your heart flutters. You tell yourself it’s because you’re getting coffee with one of the fathers of applied arcanism.

—

“A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name “A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name Viktor.”

Before you get to mentally clap yourself on the back and imagine a round of applause for your keen eye, you have to focus on not making a fool of yourself when you say your own order. The professor thankfully takes mercy on you, and leaves to take a seat at one of the tables — though probably for his own sake, rather than to spare you any embarrassment.

You decide the polite thing would be to keep him company as you wait for your orders. Reluctantly, you approach the table he’s picked, and, after a moment’s hesitation, pull out a chair for yourself.

“Professor Heimerdinger spoke quite highly of you.”

It startles you, the sound of his voice interrupting the lull of the clanking of dishes and hissing of steam and hum of the espresso machines.

“Oh. I appreciate that he did.”

“Hm.” For how blasé he’d acted until this very moment, it seems like you’ve said something that’s piqued his interest utterly. He hunches forward a hint, entwining his long, bony fingers over the top of the cane between his thin thighs. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

Uh oh.

“I’m sorry if it seemed that way, really, it’s not that I’m not flattered, professor—“

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “And you needn’t be. I do not care for, ah… false humility.”

Oh?

“False humility?” You question.

“A mark of someone either too self-conscious to accept a well deserved compliment, or desperate for one.” He pauses, looking for… something in your expression. You can’t tell if he finds it, but you know his gaze feels cold, like being prodded at with a nitrile glove. “I prefer working with people who are capable of appreciating their own effort. It’s good to know you are one of them.”

There’s warmth that seeps through the metaphorical glove, sterile as it is. It feels good to be acknowledged by the likes of him, who’d been so ruthless to figuratively knock your feet out from below you just days ago. He must have done his research on you, must have asked around, read around, figured out — just like you had done to him.

Curiosity eats at you.

“Well… what else do you know, pr— Viktor?”

His eyes rest on you like you’re a particularly tricky equation. One he knows will yield a pretty result. Being looked at by him is electric, like squeezing an unstabilized hexgem in your fist so the current courses through you, tingling.

“Don’t get cocky.” He smiles, he actually smiles, and it frays the space-time continuum just how much it youthens him. Salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet and frown lines be damned; as you watch the tip of his snaggle canine poke out from beneath his top lip, it becomes evidently clear that you are standing face to face with the man who stole illegal equipment to prove a point, the man who worked with highly explosive material for years to birth the very foundation of his scientific domain. “It is most certainly a good look on you, but it won’t bring you too far. You can ask Doctor Talis, I believe he should have a doctorate in arrogance by now.”

Is he…?

“French vanilla latte for Viktor!”

—

Listening to him teach might as well count as hypnosis.

When Viktor steps into the room, silence ensues gently, gradually. He’s not feared by any means, but he is respected. By the time he reaches the teacher’s desk and pulls out the chair from under it, the class has gone fully silent.

He sets it by the blackboard, then, slowly, bracing himself on both his cane and the backrest of it, takes a seat.

“Good morning.” He positions his cane between his thighs, clearing his throat with… perhaps almost a hint of awkwardness. “Alright. Before we begin today’s lecture, there has been a small change that everyone should be made aware of. This is my new assistant, (y/n) (l/n), and they will be joining us today. You will be addressing all questions you encounter outside of my lectures to them, from now on.”

Whispers spread across the amphitheater like wildfire.

“Now,” just like that, when his voice sounds out again, most of the chatter dies out, “today we’ll be discussing Holloran’s equation, and its applications in arcanistic techmaturgy.”

It’s magical, the command he has over the room. Viktor is a meager man, especially with the backdrop of such an imposing room. The high ceiling dwarfs him, and yet, there doesn’t seem to be a single atom in the room that doesn’t move the way he wants it to.

You’d known Viktor to be an eloquent man — you’d experienced it at your own detriment — but this beats your expectations. His explanations are enticing, he uses his words like breadcrumbs, leaves them tactfully, just enough to guide you to the conclusions he wants you to draw.

You’d never found so much satisfaction in simply listening. In spite of knowing full well the intricacies of what he is discussing, you let his voice envelop you, you follow him where he takes you.

“Now that we’ve established how Holloran’s equation exponentially heightens the energy output of Hexcrystals without disrupting the LHC — the laminal hexeon cascade — as I’m sure some of you may be wondering, how do the basic principles play into it? Any guesses?”

The class falls silent. You would give anything to be among the students right now, raising your hand to enounce the right answer. To have him looking at you like you’re bright.

You await with bated breath to see who in the crowd of focused frowns and scribbling pencils will dare speak first.

“Wouldn’t the caveat be that Talis’ fourth principle states that 30% of the energy output is converted into heat?” A young woman in the audience attempts. “Holloran’s equation operates based on the notion that the crystal is at a constant temperature.”

“Precisely. Very good,” Viktor praises. Excited, he turns to the blackboard. “Right here…” he underlines the equation, “is where Morichi’s constant comes into play…”

But you’ve long lost him.

The words twist in your head, turning into something sultry and intimate.

Precisely.

Very good.

Right here.

You find yourself staring at the groove of his pale neck, where it swoops into the line of his shoulder, hidden beneath the collar of a dress shirt and a brown wool vest.

You wonder what it’d smell like, to tuck your face in there. To have the pulse of his neck thrumming on your lips, to mouth at the mole on his jaw when he tilts his head for you, willing.

You wonder how many more are below the collar of his shirt. Dotted line on a treasure map, to guide your touch, your kiss, your tongue. Use them where he needs them, use them where his skin begs you to. Use them until his tired spine bows, use them until tattered joins are oiled with pleasure—

What is wrong with you?

—

Viktor disappears after his lecture. You hope he’d grace you with another conversation, another smile, something, but he is gone surprisingly fast. He bids you goodbye once his lecture is over, telling you he has matters to attend to, and that is that.

Overall, it’s an uneventful day otherwise. A few students end up messaging you, most with questions on what Viktor had taught that day. Others nitpicking what would and would not be a part of the upcoming midterm (whom you simply dryly referred to the syllabus). Two people, however, did message you to ask you how you’d landed the job.

You’d ignored them.

On Wednesday, you see none of him. You drop by his office after class, but there is no response to your knock, and the door is locked. He must have gone home.

On Thursday, you wait for him outside his office thirty minutes early for his 3PM lecture, but he doesn’t show. So you decide to go straight to the amphitheater, and do find him there.

He looks worn. No less graceful than the last time you’d seen him, but his cane has been ditched in the favor of a crutch that’s tucked under his arm. The creases in his checkered dress shirt and face seem deeper now, the pale indigo under his eyes is richer, darker.

He gives you nothing more than a curt greeting before class commences.

And yet, he never blunders. Never loses himself, his diction is as concise as the day you’d first met him, carrying himself with the grace of a swan as he talks and his chalk glides over the board. But his numbers slant, the loops on his letters are looser, the rows on the blackboard curve downwards to the right; just barely at first, but as the lecture advances, it becomes more obvious.

He cuts the class shorter by fifteen minutes.

The students know better than to linger. Nobody comes to address any questions, and they leave the room surprisingly quick.

Once the amphitheater is empty enough that even the thump of his crutch reverberates on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the desk, you finally dare speak.

“Is… everything alright?”

“Don’t start,” he cuts back, resting his crutch against the desk before bracing himself with both hands on the flat surface. He sighs, and does a futile attempt of relieving some of the tension in his spine by rolling his shoulders.

His joints crack, and you can see his sharp shoulder blades moving under his shirt, wings on a flightless bird.

And you’re not sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he finally adds, the harshness of his reply catching up to him. “Not… a good day.”

“Got off on the wrong side of the bed?” You attempt weakly, and, much to your utter surprise, he does actually smile.

“Mm. That might explain the past two decades or so.” He does finally look at you from below droopy eyelids, and though there’s not a doubt about him being tired still, there is more gentleness to it. As though woken out of a dream. He takes pity on the confused look on your face, and adds: “My bed is in a corner.”

Ah.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get you?”

“A new spine,” he jokes, hunching forward to crack his back, before he does his best to stand up straight once more. When he speaks again, his playful lilt is sorely missing. “Why are you here?”

“I want to attend your lectures — as many of them as I can, at least.”

Viktor shakes his head, mutters something both a little desperate and a little bitter in a foreign tongue.

“You don’t need to do that. From now on, you can simply tell Cecil you were here. And I will confirm it, should he ask. But I do not need… a babysitter. I’m sure you have better things to do as well.”

What? Why would he think that?

“I…” you falter, “Heimerdinger didn’t put me up to this.”

He scoffs, not particularly at you, but it’s surprisingly hurtful nonetheless.

“I thought we had moved past the stage where you felt the need to lie.” He sighs. “I know he worries. There is nothing to worry about. In the unlikely event he does find out you haven’t been following me around as he asked, I will take full responsibility.”

That alone makes you worry. Had Heimerdinger neglected to tell you the full picture? What was there that warranted the dean himself worrying?

”I came to your lectures because I wanted to see you teach.” The last word is more of a lie than anything you’ve said thus far. “I admire your cogency. I want to absorb as much of it as I can.”

Viktor looks thoroughly unimpressed. “We also discussed how I feel about flattery, did we not?”

“It’s not flattery,” you argue. “I came here of my own volition because I think that there’s a lot I can learn from you, professor. Now, if you don’t want me here, you can simply give me the word, and I will act accordingly.”

He mulls it over for a long second while he shuts his leather briefcase.

“Perhaps that would be best,” he finally decides. “For now, continue with your assigned duties. I will let you know if there is anything else I need from you.”

He practically scans you for a reaction, lays you out paper-thin on a glass slide, and slides you under his most potent microscope lens.

You don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for, because he doesn’t look long. He slings the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder, and turns toward the exit with renewed, but undoubtedly spiteful vigor.

“Have a good day.”

“You too, professor.”

—

“Oh, if it isn’t one of my favorite phD students!”

The dean’s mustache curls almost comically with the over-the-top, but somehow still sincere smile he gives you.

“Hello, doctor Heimerdinger,” you greet, letting the smell of laquered wood and floors wash over you as you step into the pristine, impressive office. As opposed to Viktor's, the ceiling is higher, the windows bigger, and there are only sterile messes to be found in the room. A stack of books that is not as neat as the rest, a cactus that doesn’t look all too swell on the windowsill, and documents that are scattered over his workspace in a way that’s still neat.

“What can I do for you? I hope the first week of your collaboration with doctor Sidorov-Svoboda has gone smoothly.”

“That… is actually why I’m here.” You clear your throat awkwardly, and take a seat on the plush chair that faces his desk. Whatever it’s stuffed with, it’s comfortable, it has you sinking.

“I see. I know he can be… a tad, well, peppery at times,” Heimerdinger giggles at his own choice of words. “Give him some time. Once the two of you manage to find some common ground, I can assure you he is wonderful company, and an incredibly bright mind.”

“I don’t doubt any of those things.” You start kneading your hands in your lap, digging for the right words. God, social chess was never your forte. “I’m actually here because there has been a bit of a misunderstanding between the two of us that I was hoping you could clear up.”

“Oh.” His smile drops. “I’m listening.”

“You see, when… well, when I attended his lecture today — the second one I’ve attended — he seemed… very displeased with my presence.”

“Ah…” Heimerdinger falls silent for a long moment, gears turning in his bald head. “That… well,” he laughs awkwardly, “I’m afraid that might have been because he might wrongly assume I told you to do so.”

You nod curtly. “I know. He told me as much.”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding. I will try speaking to him, but—“

“Actually, doctor, that isn’t why I came to you,” you cut in, “he told me more than just that. He said you’d put me up to this because you were… worried about him.”

At that, the smile on Heimerdinger’s face is entirely gone.

“Naturally, that also got me… quite worried. I came to you because I wanted to know the full picture of this… arrangement I’ve gotten into.”

“I see,” Heimerdinger sinks in his seat, folding his hands in front of his blond mustache as he picks his words carefully. “Well, since you have been made aware of this fact, I suppose there is no harm in admitting that I do, in fact, worry about Viktor. Him and I have history, so to speak. I’ve known him for many years, and, though he has remained the same bold, ambitious young man within, I sometimes fear old age may be catching up to him. But! That is not something you need to concern yourself with. The sole purpose of hiring you was to create a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your resume will certainly benefit from his name, and as for him, I wanted to simply… lighten his workload. But that is all I expect of you.”

“I understand.” And you do, to some degree — but Heimerdinger’s whole speech has done nothing but raise more questions than provide any real answers.

“Would you still like me to speak to him on this matter?” He asks.

“No.” With renewed courage and curiosity, you rise from the comfortable chair. “Thank you, professor. For this, and for putting in a good word for me with professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

“Of course,” he smiles — genuinely, this time. “Though it might sound quite absurd to you now, considering the current circumstances… the two of you are more alike than you may believe.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, either. So you just smile back.

—

On Friday night, as you’re poring over your thesis with a warm mug of tea as a panacea for your racing thoughts and lack of inspiration, you receive an email.

Apologies

From: [email protected]

To: me

Good evening.

I wanted to formally apologize for what happened on Wednesday. Accusing you of something you hadn’t done was unjustified and unprofessional of me. You are always welcome to my lectures, should you still wish to attend.

I was also hoping to speak to you in person on Monday. Would 1 PM still work for you? Let me know.

Thank you.

VSS

It comes as a surprise, to have someone in his position apologize so… willingly. You wonder if Heimerdinger had talked to him after all, and if so, what he might have said to turn the odds so terribly in your favor. Again.

You write a fast reply: you thank him too, above all else. You consider saying you hadn’t expected and apology, but you fear that might come off wrong, so you ultimately ditch that part.

And you tell him yes. 1 PM would work for you.

—

You attend his 10AM lecture on Monday, but this time, you don’t wait for him at his office. Though eager and enthusiastic, you fear your initial approach of waiting for him thirty minutes early might have been too stifling.

So you wait outside the lecture hall. He shows up ten minutes early, crutch under one arm, coffee in his other.

There is just a hint of foam on his upper lip, where grey-brown stubble shows. He licks the milk away before he even sees you, and you’re thankful for it — being caught staring at the pink of his smart tongue darting over the curve of his top lip considering the current circumstances would not have been a good look.

“Good morning,” he greets. Though he’s still using the crutch, he seems to be in an improved mood as opposed to the last time you saw him. “I must admit… I did not expect you here already.”

“If you’ll have me, I want to come,” you say.

Something about that catches him off-guard, the swell of his Adam's apple bobs and his eyes widen just a hint. But he’s fast, always is, and he straightens up and clears his throat before you get to analyze him the way you wish you could.

“Ahem. Well. I’m happy to hear that.” He gestures to the door as if he’d almost forgotten he was holding a coffee, because it sloshes just a hint too loud. Fortunately, there are no victims to the small droplet that spills from the plastic cover. Viktor frowns, most likely with frustration at himself, before he turns to you. “Alright. After you.”

You step into the lecture hall first, per his request. The room begins to quiet when the students see you, but as you turn around to hold the door open to him, it gets worse.

You do not care for the curious, gossip-hungry glances that rest on you.

—

“I appreciate your openness regarding the discussion of this matter,” Viktor begins, shutting his office door behind himself. “Coffee?”

He dips his hand behind an old but trusty looking coffee machine that sits on the table next to the door. You hadn’t noticed it the first time you were here.

The hint of a frown as his fingers roam the space between the back of the machine and the wall is doing… something to you.

“Yes, please.”

“I must warn you,” his voice lilts again in that pleasant, playful way, like a cat twirling figure eights between one’s legs, “it is significantly less… fun than the ones at the cafe. I only have sugar.”

He finds the switch on its back, finally, and there’s a little pop as he flips it, before he retreats his hand.

“Works for me,” you assure. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Mainly, I wanted to eh… extend my apologies to you in person.” His glasses ride further up his nose as he pinches the bridge of it, rolling his shoulders, as if to draw courage. “And to put my… reaction into some context, should you be willing to hear it.”

You hope it’s not outwardly visible that your heart starts vibrating.

He has been on your mind much more than you would like to admit, tangled in questions, in guesses. You unfortunately have the mark of a true scientist — nothing scratches an itch in your soul quite like having your questions answered.

“I would.”

Viktor retrieves a stack of single-use cardboard cups from one of his drawers, sliding out two, which he positions under the coffee machine. He presses the same button twice, then gestures to the chair that faces his desk.

“Have a seat.”

You do.

He lingers beside the coffee machine, resting the backs of his thighs against the edge of the table it’s on as he starts to think.

Just now, it strikes you that maybe social chess isn’t always his forte, either.

“People tend to… underestimate me,” he begins. The coffee machine whirrs, clicks, whirrs again — and then coffee starts to trickle. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his slacks in what attempts to be dejection, but clearly isn’t. “And while that is an advantage in a competitive environment, it’s not something I appreciate coming from my colleagues.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I know that. Now.” He clears his throat, then, with a show of surprising dexterity, slides his hand from his pocket and grabs both cups with one hand — one tucked between his index and middle finger, the other tucked between his middle and ring finger. You reach out to offer your help, but he sets down both cups on his desk, then hobbles around it, and finally takes his rightful seat on the opposing side. “I unfortunately can’t say the same for Cecil. He does try, and more often than not, he is tactful about these matters, but there is the occasional… slip-up. I try to understand; him and I… have history, as he likes to say.”

You would love to know the exact implications of said history. From what you’d heard, there was the consensus that Viktor had been something of a protege to Heimerdinger, twenty or so years ago, before he’d made it big and co-created the field of applied arcanism.

“I’ve taken up some new responsibilities lately,” Viktor adds, “and Cecil, though worried as ever, has… overstepped some boundaries of mine. You were caught in the crossfire of that, which is hardly fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“Was he the one who convinced you to hire me?”

Viktor shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Eeeh… partially.”

“I think I understand your issue with his… overstepping. To some degree.” You take the cardboard cup, blowing the steam away, before you take a sip. “I would also have preferred to be hired by you because you wanted it, not because you'd been talked into it, but… well, I’m glad it ultimately still happened, I suppose.”

“Rest assured that the decision was still mine alone,” Viktor replies. Smart eyes watch you over the rim of the cup as he takes a sip himself.

Silence settles. A telltale sign you should get going — but you don’t want to.

“You mentioned some extra responsibilities,” you attempt. He’d shut down your curiosity before, but you’ll be damned if that’s going to deter you from trying again. “Within the university, or… personal?”

“Within the university.” Viktor sets the cup down, sharp joints jutting out as he intertwines his fingers around the circumference of it, hands resting on the table. There is a mole on his left ring finger, right under the knucklebone. “I have been trying my hand at independent research.”

You only notice the fact that you’d leaned in closer with interest when a tiny smug smile ghosts over his face.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is just about all I should be telling you.”

Oh, come on.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

His brows raise with surprise, and for the very first time since you’d known him, Viktor seems genuinely stumped.

“Your… research,” you clarify. “And I could show you what I have for my thesis so far.”

“Oh. Alright, I will, eh… bite.” Taking his paper cup with him, Viktor leans back in his seat, and watches you like a cat watches birds. Not necessarily on the prowl — but with great interest. “Tell me.”

“Me first?”

“You suggested it,” he smirks. “It seems only fair, does it not?”

Uncertainty halts you. You have to wonder if Viktor Sidorov-Sviboda is the kind of man that would steal an idea.

You’ve heard he’d gotten the short end of the stick in his partnership with Jayce Talis — though he’d contributed greatly, his name was sorely amiss from all the terms, laws, anything Talis had coined in their domain.

He must know what it’s like to be cheated out of well-deserved credit.

You suppose he wouldn’t propagate the cycle — but in the off case he does, you have a handful of professors who could vouch for your idea being yours, on account of having vaguely, barely, helped with your thesis. None had been too keen on such a touchy subject as the one you were breaching, and were resistant to offering their opinion.

You hope Viktor won’t fall into that same category.

Part of you already knows he doesn’t.

“Alright.” Though you’re not exactly excited to have your own strategy used against you, you can only hope he’ll hold up his end of the bargain. “My thesis is on the hexionic model. Within and outside the context of a matrix.”

Viktor scoffs with amusement, rather than plain mockery. But there is a taste of it in there, somewhere, in the curve of his lip. “You theorists and your hexionic models. Any attempt at a new hypothesis is no less flawed than the last.”

And it’s thrilling. To be challenged, instead of praised, or dismissed. It makes something in you catch fire, every word itches behind your teeth, like you need to tell him.

“That’s exactly why I’m proposing an entirely different hexion model in my paper.“

His pupils widen so much his eyes go dark. Like a cat about to pounce.

“Oh? Tell me.”

“If we accept that the very core of a hexion’s energy release is based on entropy, on the desire for disarray, and we apply that to a hexion’s very structure… I believe there’s something to be made of the whole mess we are currently facing.”

Viktor had been holding his breath. You notice, because it sounds just a tad sharper when he finally draws a reluctant inhale, and, gears in that mind of his turning fast, sharp, steady, he finds another way to refute your point.

“Like Pididdly’s hexion model?”

“No,” you say. “Though I bet Pididdly will wish he could come up with what I have. Can I have a pen and some paper?”

You have him now.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Viktor tugs the drawer of his desk open so hard it thunks, digging for a scrap of paper and a pen. When you take it, holding the paper between the two of you, he leans in, too, enough for you to be able to smell his aftershave — the aquatic spice softened by flowery vanilla.

It’s intoxicating enough to have the storm of ideas in your mind going quiet, buzzing. You manage to untangle them before you make a fool of yourself.

“My model is proposing disordered order, so to speak. The hexion is split up into different parts as Torek suggested in his hypothesis. But I think she was too small minded in her approach. For my model, I use the concept of something I’m calling areals. Different areals for different component particles. I believe particles will never be in a fixed, certain place.” You draw the centrion — though hypothetically an ochtahemiocyahedron — as a sphere for simplicity’s sake, surrounded by three vaguely defined layers. Viktor rests both elbows on his desk, sharp chin on intertwined fingers, watching with a tilt of his head. Your mouth’s gone dry. “These areals are… spaces where, if you were to look, at any given moment, the likelihood of you finding a specific hexion particle in its assigned areal is high — but never 100%. They are constantly moving, oscillating, vibrating — within their areal. Like I said: disordered order. And this theory also holds up in the context of matrices — for the most part. There are some kinks I need to iron out, but… this is the gist of it.”

At that, he lights up.

“Extraordinary,” Viktor mutters. It’s music to your ears, rolls down your spine in a wave of dopamine, tingles all over. He taps his finger to the schematic diagram, then stares into your eyes so thoroughly you wonder if he can see into the depths of your amygdala. There is maybe a palm’s length between your faces, a gap you itch to breach. He says the next thing like a solemn secret. “This could be beyond revolutionary.”

“Thank you.”

Viktor doesn’t miss a beat when he says: “I would like to help you with your thesis. Should you require it.”

Now that knocks your knees out from under you. You’re lucky you’re sitting.

One of the founding fathers of applied arcanism wants to read your thesis? Wants to help you?

“I…” You can’t remember to breathe, your mouth’s gone thick and cottony and swallowing is a distant dream and he is looking right at you, young and hungry and alive underneath the barely composed shell of himself. “I’d be thrilled.”

He grins, the top of his lip a mere thin line over his teeth.

“I already am,” he lilts. You watch the way his mouth moves — the curl of his tongue against the back of his teeth as he rolls his heavy, thick r, the plush purse of them on the m.

And when you remember to look into his eyes again, you catch him red handed.

He’d been staring at your lips, too.

Startled with the reality, the puzzle-piece-click of knowing, the both of you retreat into your seats. With a shaky hand, you pick your cup back up, and take a sip from your coffee. It’s gone lukewarm.

“I’d like to ask you to print it, if possible.” His voice is bridled again, steady, certain. Normal. He tugs on another drawer, and retrieves something shiny, metallic. A key. He lays it on the table, sliding it towards you. “You can use the printer in my office, if need be.”

“I can print what I have so far this evening, and leave it for you here. Would that work for you?”

”Yes.”

You look at the clock on his wall — it’s entirely later than it should be. You have a lab you should be getting to.

“Could you spare some time on your lunch break tomorrow?” Viktor asks, clearly having read your mind again, somehow. “I think I should have it read through by then.”

“Absolutely, but… you don’t even know how much there is to read through.”

He smiles. “If you write with the same enthusiasm you talk, rest assured I will tear through it.”

#viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane x you #reader insert #my writing

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reverie-starlight · 8 months ago

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{PR DAY ~ sakusa kiyoomi}

MSBY manager!reader my beloved <3

it’s PR Day for the jackals and you, their manager, have the day off. so why is your boyfriend trying so hard to convince you to go with him?

gn!reader, fluff, an attempt at humor, atsumu slander (as much as it pains me, it comes with the territory of writing a fic like this 😔) suggestive in some parts. not nsfw at all, but explicit language is used and one conversation surrounds that topic, so read at your own risk <3 also, intentional tense-switch in the beginning!!! and just like the first part, it’s not explicitly mentioned, but reader and atsumu have known each other since high school.

part 1 of the mini-series

managing MSBY came with its ups and downs.

on one hand, you wouldn’t have met your boyfriend if it weren’t for this job. and you've never laughed as hard as you have been these past three years with coworkers before meeting the current core line up of the jackals.

but on the other? you had three massive fully grown children under your care. four, technically, if they managed to annoy sakusa enough that he stoops to their level of childishness.

which was unfortunately very often.

…

nearly every week.

…

fine, basically everyday.

and ever since your relationship was revealed to the team nearly a year ago, the “trouble trio” had been behaving exactly like you expected them to. the whole team was slightly insufferable about it, sure, but atsumu, hinata and bokuto really took it too the next level.

so obviously you really valued your days off.

and today was the first day off you’ve had in months. you refused to take off days during the busiest weeks of the season, but today was a PR day.

interviews, promotional videos for the official social media accounts, a livestream or two- all things you were more than happy to leave in the hands of the team’s PR and social media managers.

the birds were singing, the sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window and a cool breeze could be felt against your skin. the day was calm and you were so excited to relax and do all the things you had planned.

but of course, your hopes are just that.

you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway of your bedroom, looking like he wants to say something. your heart lurches into your throat.

“soooo,” he starts, not looking directly at you as he moves to the bed and looks at his laid out clothes. you’re already shaking your head before he can say anything else. he ignores this and proceeds to betray you. “if you wanted to tag along today, you could or whatever.”

he’s shameless. he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to today.

“kiyoomi. love of my life. my darling. what the fuck?”

he lets out a snort and looks down at you semi-pleadingly- a rare sight. “I’ll buy you coffee on the way there.”

oh, he’s bargaining? you smirk. “aww, baby,” you stand up and make your way over to him, dramatically twirling and falling back into him with the back of your hand touching your forehead and the other pressed to your chest. “you just can’t bear to be apart from me, can you?”

the pleading look in his eye fades and he gives you a disgusted look you know he doesn’t mean. his arms stay wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “you wish.”

you shrug and move back to your chair, finishing up your morning routine. “hmm I guess I’ll stay here then.”

you enjoy the silence for a moment before he sighs. “fine, two coffees.”

a loud laugh leaves your mouth when he says that. your boyfriend would never put this performance on for anyone else. it was as close to begging as you’d ever get from sakusa kiyoomi.

you shake your head and sigh. “my love, you know I’ve been looking forward to my day off for so long. why are you so insistent about me going with you?”

suddenly he’s behind your chair and leaning down so his breath tickles your ear. “coffee and lunch and maybe when we get back I could be convinced to try that thing you were talking about…” the words are backed up by a kiss to your jaw and some pointed eye contact through the mirror.

you widen your eyes and search his expression for any trace of a lie.

none.

you cannot believe you’re letting him convince you into this, but the offer is far too good to pass up.

you pretend to mull it over, then meet his eyes in the mirror again. “make sure the trouble trio don’t try to coerce me into working and we have a deal.”

“well of course, I was going to yell at them if they tried anything like that anyway.”

“perfect, then let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“only a kiss, baby, I feel your hands wandering.” he pecks your lips quickly and pulls away before you can deepen it.

you pout. “can you blame me? you’ve got me all excited now.”

he shakes his head fondly and straightens up, moving to put the shirt his stylist had insisted upon for the upcoming interviews. you had to hand it to her- she knew exactly what she was doing.

you watch him with hawk eyes and he just turns his head to look at you in amusement. “stop staring at me and get ready, you perv, we have to leave soon.”

as soon as you step into the building where all the other jackals are, you’re bombarded with confused greetings.

“hey, I thought it was your day off?”

“ayy, manager’s here! good to see ya.”

“what are you doing here? you weren’t scheduled for today, were you?”

you sigh and sip your coffee, letting go of sakusa’s hand as you speak to the coach. “no, I wasn’t. I was kidnapped and brought here by one of your wing spikers.”

he chuckles and glances over at your boyfriend, who is looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact. “I see. well, if anyone tries to get you to work today, just let me know and I’ll help sakusa put them in their places.”

you smile kindly. “thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

as soon as he walks away, you’re surrounded by the three people you wanted to see least today.

a long sigh leaves your lips as atsumu, hinata and bokuto stare at you in wonder.

“just get it over with,” you grumble.

“how much do ya wanna bet he promised something outrageous?” atsumu.

“what, like an all expenses paid vacation?” hinata.

“no, it’s omi-omi, it wouldn’t make sense for him to take time off in the middle of game season.”

you roll your eyes at their back and forth and glance over at the man in question, who appears to be glowering. you can almost picture the scowl underneath his mask. “you’re all idiots,” he states.

“hey! I haven’t even said anything yet!” bokuto protests.

“yes, but I can practically hear the gears in your brain grinding.”

“I’ll bet it’s a sex thing,” atsumu interrupts just as bokuto is about to defend himself.

you all freeze and stare at him.

your boyfriend, deadly calm, says “miya, I will skin you alive.”

the blonde, who absolutely loves getting a rise out of sakusa, just smirks. “oh, so I’m right then?” he turns to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. “tell me, dear manager, what exactly did he have to agree to in order to get ya to show up on your day off?”

you flick his forehead and shake your head disapprovingly. “none of your business, you freak. just 'cause your dating life isn’t going too well right now doesn’t mean you can pry into mine. download tinder or something if you’re that bored.”

bokuto and hinata snicker at that, but straighten up quickly when he shoots them a glare. suddenly, meian stalks up behind the three of them and clears his throat.

“if you’re all done terrorizing our manager, our social media team is ready for us now. hurry up.” he nods at you with an apologetic smile and drags atsumu away from you. “sakusa, you too. we’ve been waiting for a while now.”

as soon as his teammates walk away and he’s sure they’re not watching him, he slumps a bit and you notice the tips of his ears have gone red. you smile at him in amusement and pat his cheek, the action only slightly awkward due to his mask.

“aw lighten up, kiyoomi, I’m used to dealing with atsumu by now. just ignore him, he wouldn’t dream of bringing that up again if he knows what’s good for him.”

he sighs and drops his shoulders, relief washing over him now that he knows you’re not regretting your decision to come with him. he slips off his mask and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “alright. I love you, just enjoy the show.”

you take his mask and walk with him to the rest of the group so that they can start with the promotional videos.

it’s fun to watch, honestly, because the team’s dynamic does work well for the cameras. they’re not even playing anything up.

you sit through the promo videos they need to film for upcoming games, the silly one-off fluff questions and the fan asks for their instagram page before they’re allowed a break.

sakusa stalks over to you with a small scowl and you smile. “you’re doing great, handsome.”

his expression softens a bit and he offers you a kiss on the forehead. “thank you, darling. care for some lunch?”

you nod and pull him out the door before a certain trio can invite themselves to the impromptu lunch date.

you walk in comfortable silence towards the building’s food court before something pops into your mind. “kiyoomi, you never answered my question from earlier.”

he hums in acknowledgment. “and what might that be?”

“why were you so insistent on me joining you today?”

he doesn’t answer for a moment, but you wait patiently. you know he’s not ignoring you.

finally he sighs and squeezes your hand. “I feel like we haven’t been spending much time together lately outside of work… and I was hoping that by bringing you with me today we’d be able to have at least some time together…” his voice is low, but he’s not shy about it.

you fiddle with the chain around your neck, one he bought for you a while back. "that's very sweet of you, kiyo."

"and..." he hesitates a bit, but you squeeze his hand in return to encourage him. "I feel more relaxed in front of the cameras when you're there."

you melt a little bit. "I'm happy I make you feel that way, kiyoomi. thank you for kidnapping me on my day off, I suppose."

he snorts and you smile. you're about to lean in to pull his mask down for a kiss, but you're interrupted. of course.

"hey, hey, hey! there you guys are! we saw you leaving so figured we'd get lunch with you!"

you honestly don't think you could ever be mad at bokuto, but he is seriously testing your patience right now. not far behind him are atsumu and hinata, one looking smug and the other a bit sheepish. one of them probably brought up your departure to bokuto, either on purpose or accidentally you'd never know.

you sigh and pat sakusa on the back. "yeah, come on. you're all paying for your own, though."

you both ignore the whines of the fully grown children behind you and continue walking hand in hand.

~~~~

BONUS:

"so this question is directed at sakusa..." atsumu reads the question silently and the team watches as he holds back a laugh.

you watch as your boyfriend narrows his eyes at the blonde in front of him and you sigh. things had been going so well up until now.

it’s past lunch break now, and their social media manager had just given them a box full of printed out tweets with fan questions to answer. she snickers to herself as if she knows which question it is and looks pointedly at you from behind the phone she’s recording on.

you blink in confusion, but everything is made clear when atsumu opens his mouth again.

“omi-omi, user @/kiyosdear wants to know if you’re single, or if you’re in need of a dog, because they’re more than willing to bark.”

the social media manager giggles, as does the rest of the team. you feel your eye twitch a bit, but you’re easily able to shove down any possession you feel in the moment.

it’s obviously impossible to ignore so many people vying for his attention all the time, but sometimes it could be a little funny to see how flustered your boyfriend could become from the unwanted attention.

you smile at the small scowl that forms. “no thank you. I’d want nothing less.”

atsumu snorts at his curt answer and hands the box to him. sakusa picks out a question and reads it to himself before blushing furiously and turning his face away from the camera. you watch curiously as meian looks over his shoulder to see what could have garnered that reaction from him and his eyes trail to you amusedly.

the social media manager looks like she’s having a field day, zooming in on sakusa’s red face for a moment. it’s not often something flusters him that badly after all. she’ll milk it for all it’s worth.

the captain pries the paper out of your boyfriend’s hand and reads it out loud.

“@/msby_luvr asks, yo @/sakusakiyoomi, is your team's manager single? totally unrelated, @/msbymanager, are you free on thursday?"”

it’s not exactly a secret to the public that there’s something going on between you two, they just don’t know what that something is.

of course neither of you ever confirm or deny anything, but you imagine being asked outright like that is what caught him off guard.

the camera cuts to you, “offstage” laughing at the question and shaking your head a little in amusement.

or maybe he’s not shy, but rather jealous?

that’s kind of sweet.

regardless, you speak up for him, knowing he wouldn't answer. "I am not single, but thanks for asking."

the camera pans back to the team, just in time to catch the tail end of atsumu clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder.

sakusa gives you a small smile, clearly relieved you took over for him, and goes back to focusing on the interview.

hinata, the poor thing, reads the next question. “oh boy… @/msbymanager asks, sakusa and atsumu rivals to lovers arc when?”

you cackle as both men whip their heads in your direction, betrayal and incredulity on their faces.

raising your hands, you said to them “in my defence, I was still miffed about being dragged here on my day off when I sent it in!”

atsumu loudly refuted the question and the jeers from his teammates, but that was all drowned out by the look your boyfriend sent your way.

you sighed. you were really in for it later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll 100% be doing more MSBY manager!reader. and I’ll do more PR scenarios as well, bc as much fun as this was to write, it didn’t have as much as I wanted to include. but I’ll have to do more research. thank you for reading!! and happy birthday sakusa <3

tags: @dira333 (ty for inspiring me to turn it into a mini-series) @emmyrosee (Ik you love Sakusa and you wanted the WIP for this a long time ago)

#sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #haikyu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months ago

Text

Wife Girlfriend Training (Tengen x Black!Self-Insert!reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Synopsis: When Tengen puts in a big order to your bakery and you're short-staffed, you deliver it yourself only to find Uzui home alone. To repay you for the trip, he invites you in for dinner where things take a major turn when he finally admits his and his wives’ attraction to you. You’ve never been in a poly relationship before, so Tengen gives you an introduction to what it would be like to be his 4th girl...including some “training” of his own.

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+; Self-Insert!Reader; Plus-Sized!Reader; Poly Relationship; Sister Wives; Highkey Flirting; Strangers to Lovers; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Tengen Has A Big Dick; Multiple Positions; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Deepthroating; Mutual Masturbation; Big Dick Training; Dirty Talk; Choking; Dom!Tengen/sub!Reader; mild BDSM; Creampie; Reader Cums 3x

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: My very first Tengen fic!! I love me ALL of him & his big ass arms. I’ve thought about him bending me over MANY TIMES. His wives too. We all married. Anyways, a special thank you as always to @curiouscutie143 aka Tengen’s 5th wife (I’m his 4th) for trusting me to bring her fantasies to life & paying me to do it ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! -Jazz

*******

When the bell hanging above the door to your bakery tinkles, you look up so fast that you nearly get whiplash.

You expect to see a familiar, tall hunk with braided, silver locks or one of his gorgeous, black-haired beauties in the doorway of your business place, but your heart droops in disappointment when all you see is an old woman with her support dog—a regular. Not the regulars you want to see.

The small, white-haired woman waves at you and you wave back, putting a smile on your face. As she takes a seat at her regular booth, one of your employees goes to take her order.

You busy yourself cleaning off the counters and display cases of your baked goods when your friend and coworker comes walking out of the kitchen doors with a tray of cookies. “Got the batch of chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin ready for you.”

She sets the tray down and wipes her hands off on her apron. You’re wearing your own which is coated in flour from this morning’s batch of homemade cake batter that you stored in the freezer for future cake orders. “Thank you. I just need to decorate them now.” With a huff and an “oof”, you bend down to get some colored frosting out of the mini freezer under the counter.

You work quickly, squeezing tiny designs and flowers on the cookies in time for the lunch rush. Right now, it is the morning, so the usual customers you receive are just for coffee. While you work, your friend fills in an online order for a pastry and a lavender latte. You can tell from the way she’s looking at you from the corner of your eye that she’s about to make a joke.

“What, your boyfriend ain’t visit you yet?” She asks, looking at the front door. “Will he bring your girlfriends too?” You turn around and point the frost baster at her. She jumps back, laughing. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you growl. “Now stop saying that if you value your clothes.”

You abruptly turn around and continue your work, ignoring the way your body hums at the thought of your anticipated visitors. “Well, he sure seems to think so,” your friend giggles as she places the flaky pastry in a paper bag. “Every time he’s in here, he always looks like he wants to take you home with his girls, rip off your apron, and—“

The sound of the bell on your door ringing, fortunately, stops her, but it isn’t your so-called “boyfriend” or “girlfriends”. It’s just a businessman coming in for his morning coffee. You sigh and shoot a sharp look at your knowing friend who skips off to make a latte. You try to distract yourself from your thoughts by working, but your fingers feel numb and you can’t seem to focus so much on the cookies.

All because of that damn Hashira hunk and his three beautiful wives. Dammit. You almost wish Tengen Uzui never entered your bakery five months ago, but then again, it’s brought in a lot of business. To have a popular Demon Slayer Corp and his crew come in to indulge in your bakery has upped your sales and given you new customers. Tengen is one of them. He and his wives have become regulars of yours since Tengen stumbled into your bakery all those months ago.

And he literally stumbled. One of his wives, with her twinkling indigo eyes and shoulder-length black locks, dragged him into your bakery. Her blue kimono was short enough to draw eyes to her thighs and impressive rack. “In here, in here, Tengen-sama!” She excitedly shouted. “Look-it! They have the cutest cakes here!”

You had turned around with a welcoming smile, expecting it to be a dad and his daughter, but you were mistaken when you caught the glimpse of the gorgeous woman and her equally gorgeous man getting yanked on by the arm.

He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. About six-foot-something, he towered over Suma and was built like a goddamn tank. Your eyes didn’t know what to land and stay on. His silver locks of hair? His handsome face? His gorgeous crimson eye? His charming smile? His big ass arms?

He was big in all of the right places, his body impressively huge and toned, and seemed to make your bakery look like a dollhouse. An eyepatch adorned with three crystals covered his right eye while the other looked right at you from behind the counter. The smile that crossed his lips nearly made you shiver in delight.

Behind him were his two other wives, one with orange and black hair and a red kimono—Maiko—and one with long black hair tied into a ponytail, violet eyes, and an endearing mole on her right cheek—Hinatsuru. Each wife was beautiful, toned, and had racks you unconsciously stared at. Quickly, you looked away, feeling like a pervert. You hated being bi sometimes. Why must God punish you with hot guys and girls while at work?

“Suma, c’mon now, really!” Maiko scoffed, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her pretty face. “You can’t just run off with Tengen-sama like that! You know how he feels about us getting separated!”

Suma pouted, playing with her black locks. “But I just wanted to look at the cakes,” she murmured, staring longingly at the display of cakes and tarts by you at the front desk. Tengen chuckled, the deep rumble of his chuckle making your insides turn. “I think that she can explain more about ‘em to you, darling,” he gently said. “Hello, miss. Is this your bakery?”

All three of his wives looked at you as if they just realized you were standing there. They must have because Hinatsuru immediately gasps, horrified. “Oh, miss, we’re so sorry! We didn’t even notice you there!” She bowed respectfully. “Please forgive us for our rudeness.”

Maiko did the same and forced Suma to bend forward as well in an apologetic bow. Tengen did the same with ease. “No, no, it’s fine!” You protested, suddenly sweating under your apron and despite the AC pumping cool air around you. “You were too focused on the cakes and I don’t blame you. I made them last night if you four would like a sample.”

Suma popped up and gasped like an excited kid. “Really?! Oh, my gosh, thank you so, so much, Ms…er….” She stopped and squinted curiously at you, looking around your body for a name tag. Maiko rolled her eyes while Hinatmusu giggled into her dainty hand.

“V,” you answered. “I’m the owner of this bakery.” Tengen laughed at his wife and offered his big hand across the counter. “Tengen Uzui, 8th Demon Slayer Corp member,” he said in his deep, luscious voice. “Pleasure to meet you. These are my wives, Suma, Maiko, and Hinatsuru.”

“Please, just call me Hina,” Hinatsuru replied with a kind smile that made you think of blossoming flowers. Suma gave you a cute wave while Maiko seemed to not know what to do and just blushed despite her standoffish attitude. You took Tengen’s hand and shook it, noticing the rings adorning his fingers and the bracelets jingling against his wrist. He was so…flashy.

You were so focused on his jewelry that you almost missed that he said “wives” and “eighth Demon Corp member”. You kept a smile on your face as you shook his hand, ignoring the way your hand tingled as his calloused fingers clasped your smaller palm. But inside, you were gobsmacked. This was THE Tengen Uzui, one of the most prominent demon slayers in all the land. And here he was in your tiny bakery with his three gorgeous ass wives!

“V-Very nice to meet you,” you damn near exhaled. Uzui seemed to realize the power he had on you from the simple touch because his kind smile turned into a flirty smirk. “This is a cute lil’ place you got here,” he said as he stuck his hand in his pocket that was once in yours. “We couldn’t help but come in to check out what you had, right, ladies?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Suma answered with an eager nod. “We love all kinds of sweets, especially Maiko! She loves eating cakes and cookies late at night when she thinks no one is paying attention.”

Maiko gaped at her sister-wife, flames nearly coming out of her reddened face. “Hey!” She barked. “That’s not true!” Uzui wagged a finger at her, tutting. “Lying is a sin, don’t you know, my Maiko?” He teasingly asked in that silky voice. You melted just like Maiko did, a slight whimper exciting her lips at the pet name.

Hinatsuru suddenly appeared at the counter, that kind, genuine smile still on her lovely face. “You mustn’t mind us,” she giggled. “We have our different personalities, but we really do work great as a team. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” She turned to look at them, an adoring look in her eyes.

It was a look that you were envious of. You’ve never interacted with a poly couple before, but you knew right then that it was something you’d never knock until you experienced it firsthand for yourself. Seeing all of the love in Hinatsuru’s eyes made you want to try it out for yourself to see if you, too, could experience that kind of feeling.

But alas: these are just fantasies right now. Your partners are your business and baking right now. You’re so dedicated to your relationship and passion that you wake up at the ass crack of dawn to bake and you don’t leave until almost eleven at night sometimes because you’re busy preparing for events and business hours. It becomes tiring, yes, but it’s all worth it. You love your little bakery to death and you want to see it continue to blossom like you know it can.

So, like any good baker and businesswoman, you gave Uzui and his wives a sample of your cakes: fruit tart with glazed fruit and lemon custard, vanilla coconut with coconut flakes, tiramisu, and chocolate mousse with dark chocolate powder dusting the top. You watched joyously as the four chomped down on your delicacies, each one wearing expressions of wonder and satisfaction.

Suma made a very lewd-sounding moan as she chomped down on the chocolate cake, frosting all over her mouth. “Wow!” She sighed. “These are absolutely amazing! And you baked all of these yourself?”

You flushed at the twinkle in her eyes. ”Yeah,” you bashfully replied. “I’m so glad you like them.” You turned to Uzui who swallowed his sample in one gulp and rubbed his toned stomach. “Oh, more than like, Ms. V,” he said. “We love these little cakes. And this little place of yours is so cute and…flashy.” He looked around the quaint and small bakery, smiling fondly. “It’s adorable! How long have you had it for?”

He seemed so interested in this that you almost didn't know what to say. It had been forever since someone actually seemed like they wanted to know all about you without having ulterior motives aka wanting to sleep with you. Another reason why you barely dated. You nervously laughed, taken aback by his genuine interest. “About two years now since I got my license, but I’ve been baking literally my entire life.”

Uzui whistled, looking like he approved of this information. “That takes so much skill!” He praised, leaning against the counter with one huge arm slung across it. “So you’re a businesswoman, a skilled baker, and beautiful? I’m sure you’ve got the fellas linin’ up outside your door.”

The smile that crossed his lips was flirtatious and playful. It would turn you off if it came from some other guy you barely know, but there was something about him that made you not mind. And it had nothing to do with his status. Uzui came off to you like he was a big flirt, yes, but also very laid back and easy-going. It relaxed you even when you barely knew anything about him. He had a very blasé attitude to him that didn’t match his flash jewelry and painted fingernails that you were absolutely attracted to, picturing them somewhere on your body. You understood then why his wives were so fond of him.

“You mustn’t embarrass her, Tengen-sama!” Hina critically said, grabbing Uzui’s arm. “Pardon me for saying so, but you are very beautiful, Ms. Y/N.�� A pink blush spread across her cheeks, making her look even more gorgeous. You were breathless, unable to speak. A woman as gorgeous as her complimenting your looks was like an award in gold. “Isn’t she?!” Suma squealed. “I was staring at her the whole time wondering how she got her hair like that! Oh, and her skin is so pretty and glowy! Don’t you think so, Maiko?”

All of you turned to Maiko who was busy nibbling on her tiramisu. She blushed at the eyes on her and tucked into herself. ”I-I guess,” she mumbled and continued eating. Uzui smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye. “She’s a shy girl,” he whispered. “Don’t let her turn ya off.”

You didn’t tell either of them that you were turned on beyond belief. Fortunately, their desire to put in an order made you forget all about how much you were throbbing and how weak in the knees you felt. Uzui boastfully ordered a dozen cakes for his wives and his team, resulting in you filling two boxes with twelve of your cakes each. Uzui carried the two boxes and gave you a thankful smile as he and Hina exited your bakery.

Suma practically skipped after them. “Thank you for the cakes!” She called as she waved from the door. Maiko stayed behind and passed you a crisp $100 bill. “From Tengen-sama,” she explained. “He said keep the change.” She paused, her face ablaze. “A-and you do have…really pretty hair,” she muttered. She didn’t stick around long enough to wait for you to thank her.

You watched her go, somehow already missing their presence and hoping to see them again. They brought a light to your bakery the way no other customer has. But as you were processing the money, the door opened again, and in walked Uzui. “Oh, did you forget something?” you curiously ask, cocking your head to the side.

He didn’t answer you as he strode up to you in five long strides, his boots thudding across the floor. Your heart leaped at his strange frown, wondering what could be wrong. Did he not like the cakes after all? He suddenly threw an elbow over the counter and leaned in like he was about to tell you a secret. “You’ve got a card or somethin’?” he whispered. Because I have a whole lot of sweet-toothed people who would love to come here for their fix.” He smirked at you, goofily so.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic personality. Reaching down where the cash register was, you plucked a business card from beside it and handed it to Uzui. He gave you a smile and a wink as he pocketed your card. “It was nice meeting you, V,” he said. “We’ll be back.”

And that they were back. The Hashira and his three wives came back again and again, buying sugary, caffeinated drinks and sweets. They came mostly on the weekends and sometimes during the week on random, but like clockwork, they were here. Uzui never came alone, always having his girls with him and spending all kinds of coin on whatever they wanted.

As time passed, you found yourself looking forward to them showing up. You enjoyed their presence and they seemed to make your little bakery that much brighter and sweeter when they were here. It didn’t take long for your days to be filled with daydreams and nights to be haunted by fantasies of being with them as intimately as they are with each other—holding hands, touching lips, whispering sweet nothings…

Especially with Uzui. How could you not? The man is a walking wet dream! Every time he slid you some game and flirted with you so openly in front of the girls and in private, you could feel yourself folding. But how are his wives so okay with him flirting with another woman in front of them? Is this just their relationship? Did you really want to understand? Maybe…join them?

‘No, you horny bitch,’ you firmly think to yourself as you finish frosting the cookies. ‘No dating right now. Just business. Keep your head on straight.’

No matter how much Uzui’s flirting turns you on and piques your curiosity. Besides, how can he possibly be interested in you? He already has three women on his arm that would put any supermodel to shame. With his status and looks, he couldn’t possibly want you.

You manage to distract yourself with some customers for a while until you get a particular call that you are not expecting. You answer it as normal, thinking it’s just another order for some catering or something. “V’s Sweets,” you brightly say into the phone.

“Hi there, Ms. V,” a familiar, silky voice replies in your ear. Your brain damn near short circuits. “Your voice first thing in the morning is definitely better than these goddamn birds on my roof. How are you this morning?”

It takes a minute for you to find your voice as his washes over you. You look around the bakery to make sure no one is watching you slowly combust behind the counter. “Uzui,” you exhale. “Um…m’fine!” You clear your throat, quickly recovering. “Good, thanks. How are you?”

“Perfect now,” he answers without missing a beat. Goddamn him and his game! You can hear him smile on the other line and briefly imagine how fine he looks. “Listen, as much as I’d love to stay on the phone and hear you talk, I’ll admit that I’m in a time crunch with training. But I need your help with somethin’ big.”

The gears in your head immediately start turning. What could it be, you wonder? A big event for the Demon Corps he wants catering for? “Oh…okay,” you hesitantly say. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to put in an order for my girls,” he explains. You don’t know why, but hearing him call his wives “my girls” makes your heart flutter.

‘Maybe because you want to be his girl too.’

You see, they’re off traveling to the mountains for a training session,” he continues. “They’ve been gone since last Monday and are returning Saturday night. I wanted to surprise them with a cake to welcome them home, but I need it ready by tomorrow. I know it’s last minute and I’ll pay as much as you want.”

You instantly begin to schedule the cake order in your head’s calendar. Today is Friday which means you have at least the next 24 hours to fix this cake. Thank God you have a leftover batch of batter in the freezer you can use. “It’s no problem, Uzui,” you giggle. “That’s so sweet of you! Just tell me what flavor they like and other details for the cake. I promise I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

Uzui sounds relieved. “You’re a fucking doll,” he sighs. “I’ll send you the money once we’re off the phone. Just work your flashy magic like I know you can, V. My girls are gonna be so excited when they get home!” You smile proudly, glad to know he trusts you so strongly when it comes to baking.

You learn that he’d like a single-layered cake with buttercream frosting, candied flowers, and three flavors: vanilla for Hina, strawberry for Maiko, and chocolate for Suma. You write it all down and once you get that Cash App deposit, you get to work.

For the rest of Friday into the night, you spend your hours mixing, baking, and sweating hard in the kitchen while your wonderful employees graciously take over for the customers. Even when they leave that night at 9 PM, you’re still there, flour on your face and food coloring on your apron.

You are tired and in need of a hot shower, but once you finish the cake, you step back and admire your handiwork. It is a beauty—buttercream frosting swirls decorate the top of the cake along with candied flowers surrounding the words written in the middle: “Welcome Home, Girls!” You made sure to make the insides a swirl of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, coloring it just right.

You almost want to call Uzui and send him a photo, but you decide to surprise him. So you carefully wrap the cake in plastic, place it in the fridge, and lock up your bakery before going home to sleep, walking on cloud nine. You think that nothing can go wrong with this order…Until the next night, that is.

Everything that could ever go wrong goes wrong for you. For one, it’s because the cake can’t be delivered to Uzui until he gets home that night because he’s training a class. “I won’t be home till at least eight,” he explains that morning, sounding apologetic. “If someone can drop it off then, I’ll be home to get it personally and pay extra.”

Number two, you’re extremely short-staffed. Not only is it Saturday and most people don’t work on weekends (except for you), but it’s also raining. The plans for the weather are downpours all weekend which means you definitely aren’t going to be able to find a deliverer. When you realize your dilemma, you sigh into your mug of much-needed coffee with two shots of espresso. “Shit,” you mutter, quiet enough to not alarm customers. Now it’s up to you to handle this.

That night, while the handful of employees you have are cleaning your bakery before closing, you take the cake and put it in the trunk of your cute little Sedan. It is only drizzling right now, so you hurry into your car and punch Uzui’s address into Apple Maps. Once the route shows up, you take off but drive slowly due to the slick roads and the cake in the trunk.

You’ve personally delivered orders before, especially to big events, such as parties and weddings. Delivering to someone’s house isn’t any different for you…except for the fact that this delivery is for a man that you’re severely feeling.

Uzui’s place is about twenty minutes outside the city where the Demon Corps compound is located. His little home, purchased for his wives, is ten minutes away from the compound down a dirt road. You manage to make it there before the rain starts coming down like a waterfall in the Amazon rainforest.

Raindrops pound against your car like tiny mallets as you race out of your car to toss open the trunk and get the cake. Even in your raincoat, you feel like you’re soaked to the bone. The dirt road has become wet and mushy like quicksand, making it hard to move in your boots. “God,” you groan, gripping the cake tight as you quickly move through the thick sheet of rain.

You manage to make it to Uzui’s front door and rapidly knock with one hand. “Yes?” you hear him call, stern and unsure. Fuck, you forgot to call him first! “It’s V!” you shout through the door. “From the bakery? I’ve got your cake order here!”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear the lock on the door click. The door opens, revealing a cozy home and a very wet, very shirtless man towering over you. Uzui stands barefoot in some sweats that are dangerously low on his narrow hips, giving you a peek of his well-defined V-line slick with water. His hair is stringy and wet and a towel is wrapped around his neck which means he must gotten out of the shower. You nearly drop the cake at the sight of him.

“Hey,” he sighs. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, V. I tried to call, but reception is so bad ‘cause of the rain.”

Your eyes tick up to look at his guilty expression instead of his body and sweatpants where you were definitely not hoping to see a dick print. “Oh…why?” you carefully ask. “Did you not want the cake anymore?”

Uzui bursts into laughter. “Hell no, are you kiddin’? Of course, I want this beauty!” He smiles adoringly at the cake in your hands. “But the girls told me that they won’t be home until tomorrow because of the storm. That’s why they aren’t here. It’s just me.”

It’s just me. “Oh,” you reply. “Well, that’s okay! I can still just drop it off and it’ll be good by tomorrow.” You hold the cake out for him to take. He does so, his big, calloused hands brushing yours. You clear your throat, awkward and ignoring the spark you feel when you touch. You snatch your hands away and put them in your pocket. “W-Well, I should probably—“

“You’re leaving?” he asks, sounding shocked. “In this weather? Wouldn’t you wanna wait this out for a while? I feel bad enough that you even came all this way here just to drop it off.” That’s an idea. A very bad idea. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s my job anyways, so—“

“Job or not, it’s still very generous of you,” Uzui interrupts you. “Can I fix you somethin’ before you go? Did you eat?” It’s just me. His words come back to you, haunting. Being in a room alone with a man you’re very attracted to and so happens to be married is a recipe for fucking disaster. “Uh…no, I’m really not hungry.”

Grrrrooooowl. Your stomach rumbles, giving you away. All you had for lunch was coffee and a piece of apple strudel. Uzui smirks knowingly at you while you think about killing yourself. “Uh-uh,” he chuckles. “C’mon, I just fixed some rice and grilled chicken if you want some. The rain doesn’t stop till nine, so you can head out then. Cute car, by the way.”

“Well…” You turn to look at your Sedan, contemplating your decision. What if this is a trap? What if you walk in there and never come back out? What if he’s really a cult leader, his wives are his members, and he’s trying to indoctrinate you or something?

And what if maybe he truly is just being nice? Finally, you sigh and pat the pocket of your jeans to make sure your phone, keys, and pepper spray are, in fact, there. “Alright, but only until the rain stops,” you say, softly yet firmly. Uzui nods and opens the door wider for you. “Make yourself at home and I’ll getcha a plate. Lemme take your coat.”

He stands behind you as he helps you out of your raincoat, making your heart pound ten times faster. He’s so big. He practically hits the ceiling above with how tall he is. You know he’d just about cover your body if he was on top of you. Once your coat is off, he hangs it up near the door and coaxes you to sit and decompress.

While he takes the cake to the small yet homely kitchen and begins posting around in it, you take a seat on the love sofa that you know he and his girls have cuddled and fucked many times on. You left your boots by the door to dry so you stretch out your toes and shiver at the warmth curling throughout the house. Uzui’s home is so cozy with its splash of color, small rooms, wooden furnishings, and framed photos.

Many, many framed photos. You stare at one next to you of Uzui in a suit in front of a backdrop of cherry blossoms. Hina, Suma, and Maiko stand in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, each holding a bouquet of flowers in gorgeous white dresses. “That’s from our wedding day with Suma,” he suddenly explains.

You startle, finding him standing above you with two steaming plates of white rice, grilled chicken with parsley, and a side of steamed vegetables. “That was taken three years ago,” he says, sitting down beside you. “We’ve been together for a long while now, all of us.” You smile despite yourself as he passes you your plate. “That’s a beautiful thing, to be with someone for so long and stand the test of time. Especially three other people.”

He nods, agreeing with you. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but I wouldn’t give ‘em up for anything. They’re my everything.” The hint of an adoring smile on his face makes something tighten inside of you. Jealousy? Disappointment that you haven’t found that yet? All yes.

For a while, you eat in silence that is only filled by the sound of the rain pitter-pattering outside. When you feel that some time has passed, you speak. “I envy you,” you sigh as you finish chewing on your piece of chicken. The explosion of herbs and spices nearly makes you moan in delight. And he can cook too?! “The dating pool is in Hell, so I haven’t done much of it.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Uzui chuckles. “To be a woman as independent and beautiful as you…some men are intimidated by that. Believe it or not, no one wanted to court my wives because of their fighting skills and independence. It turns a lot of guys off.” He makes a disapproving face at the idea that makes you laugh.

“Well, all it takes is that right guy to make any independent woman his,” you blurt. Fuck. Now that the words are out there and he’s looking at you so cluelessly, you have to explain. “Y’know,” you say, slowly chewing on your rice. “Like she’ll submit to you because you treat her so well. You make her feel safe.”

Uzui nods in understanding, his plate completely clean. “Ah…is that what you look for in a partner?” You nearly get a piece of steamed broccoli stuck in your throat by the sudden pivot of a conversation topic. “Um…w-well, yeah, I guess, if I dated.”

Uzui raised a confused eyebrow. “You don’t date?” Slowly, you shake your head. “I haven’t had much of a good swim in the dating pool, so I’ve just been focusing on my business. It gets lonely, yes, but I’m just not up for the bullshit and games.” You shovel more food into your mouth to silence yourself, realizing how easy it is to open up to Uzui.

The Hashira continues to stare at you, his eye almost like a laser beam burning into you. You’re so focused on your food and the rain that you nearly miss his next words: “Well, I know for a fact that me and my girls wouldn’t dare bullshit or play games with you…if you let us show you.”

You place your fork down on the plate, your appetite suddenly gone. Everything sounds louder now: the rain, your labored breathing, the blood pumping in your ears. You turn to Uzui and find him staring at you, his one eye blazing with intensity. “Why are you telling me this?” You ask above a whisper.

Uzui lowers his plate to the table and does the same to yours. He doesn’t touch you, but his gaze on you makes you feel as if he’s touching every single part of you. “I was tryin’ hard to keep this to myself, but now that you’re here and we’re finally alone…I can finally tell you how I really feel.”

In that moment, something in you ignites and you stand from the couch like something lit your ass on fire. “A-Actually, I need to go,” you stammer as you head to the door. “I need to feed my, um…cat.” Even though you don’t have a cat.

But as you attempt to race to get your coat and boots, Uzui stops you by simply saying your name. “V,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Slowly, you turn your body to him, but you don’t look at him. You keep your eyes locked on the floor. “This feels like a trap,” you admit with an awkward laugh.

“It’s not,” he protests, sounding hurt by the assumption. “I promise you, V, it isn’t. I had wanted to invite you over when the girls finally came home to tell you all of this, but with you being here…shit, I just couldn’t resist not sayin’ nothin’ to you after so long.” When you finally do look at him, his face is filled with so much longing that it nearly makes your knees buckle.

“I need to act on my advances somehow,” he continues. “Did you notice any of ‘em? Ever?” You put your hands in your pockets, unsure of what to do. The room suddenly feels too small for your size. “Um…yes, but I’ll admit that I ignored them because of work. I needed to focus on my bakery.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” he replies. “And I don’t blame you for bein’ wary of this, V, but you don’t have to be that way with me. My feelings for you are real.” The soft lamplight illuminates his handsome face. “My attraction for you is real.”

You grip your keys in your back pocket. This is getting too hot and too personal. It’s too much. You should turn and leave to avoid falling even deeper into this dangerous situation. But instead, you stand there and face your fears. “I…I feel the same,” you softly confess, so soft that the rain nearly swallows up your voice.

But Uzui hears you nonetheless. His body relaxes, the tension in his muscles melting away. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he wonders and you look at him like he’s deadass serious. “Tengen, you’re married,” you scoff. “You have three women that you’re committed to!”

He nods, biting his lip. “Okay, yeah. That was a stupid question.”

“So what about your girls?” you demand. “Is this going to ruin your marriage?” Immediately, he shakes his head. “Not at all. I was waiting till they returned so they could tell this to you in person, but they’re just as attracted to you as I am. They’ve wanted you to join our little family since we met.”

Your eyes widen as your blood pressure rises. “Family?!” you parrot. “Tengen, I can’t marry you!”

Uzui blinks in confusion and then realization like flickering lightbulb appears in his eyes. “No, no, no!” he protests with a laugh. “You’ve got it wrong, darling. I don’t mean join our marriage. I mean join our relationship—that is, you’d be dating all four of us…if that’s somethin’ you’d want to do.”

You bite your lip, contemplating this. Yes, you’ve thought about being with them. Many of your nights have been filled with hot dreams of you between them, your bedroom filled with moans from all of you. But it’s different from actually doing it. “I’m attracted to you all too,” you admit, “but I’ve never been in a poly relationship before. I’ve never even been with more than one partner in the bedroom.”

Uzui’s gaze is soft and sweet, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. “Nothin’ wrong with that,” he says, taking a step closer. You allow it, not moving even as he gets closer to you. “It’s your decision, V, but I can promise you that if you say yes, not a day would go by where we wouldn’t show you how right you were in picking us to be your partners.”

When he is finally near you and towering over you, he takes your hands in his. “For however long you want us.” You stare up into his eye, falling deeper and deeper into whatever “trap” he has set for you. “Say that I did say yes,” you say, breathless from the magic he is working on you. “What would happen if I was your fourth girl?”

His brows raise in surprise and a smirk stretches across his lips. “Oh,” he replies. “You want a teaser?” You jerkingly nod, afraid to speak. He turns his hands over so they are underneath yours and rubs his thumbs along your knuckles. You inhale and unfortunately catch a whiff of the fruity soap and cologne on his skin.

“Well, for one,” he starts in his silky, dreamy voice, “I’d treat you the same way I treat my wives: with love, adoration, and respect…in and out of the bedroom, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.” His eye pierces into yours, filled with heat and a sinful promise that makes you want to fall into his big arms that are the size of your entire body. “And I make sure all of my girls are taken care of.”

Something in the way he says that also tells you that ain’t just words—they’re a fucking promise. Finally, temptation gets the best of you and you toss yourself at him to kiss him. He makes a noise of surprise as you leap into his body, but once your body and lips melt into his, he moans in pleasure and satisfaction at finally having you here. Against him. Wrapped in his arms.

His lips are soft and taste faintly of wine. They pull you in deeper and deeper, causing you to push your plump body against his. Uzui welcomes you, his toned arms hugging you tight and inviting you to indulge in his biceps and pecs. The more you touch, the wetter you get. You can feel your pussy clenching in your panties, excited by the many sights, scents, and sensations you’re experiencing.

Finally, you pull away and you’re both panting, only an inch away from each other’s lips. “I take it you like that idea?” he murmurs against your lips. Slowly, you nod, speechless. “So you wanna give this a shot? Remember, baby, you call the shots here.”

He gently strokes your back, not cringing at all at your rolls and love handles. It makes you feel especially sexy. You bite your lip, thoughtfully stroking his chest. “I’m thinking about it, but I think I need more…” One of your hands slides down to play idly with the tie of his sweats. “Persuasion,” you sigh.

A big, happy smile crosses Uzui’s lips and he plants another passionate kiss on your lips. “I can do that, no problem.” Another hot kissing session begins that sweeps you off your feet and makes your pussy gush. The more you push against Uzui, he pushes back just as much, his hands roaming over your back, legs, and plump ass in your jeans.

He wedges one of his muscular thighs in between your soft, plushy ones and you gasp at the hard sensation you feel pushing against his sweats. “Can you feel me?” he asks, peppering your neck in kisses. “That’s what you do to me. What you’ve been doin’ to me since I met you.”

Your mouth stays agape, processing what you’re feeling. The pleasure is immense. His bulge slides against the heat between your thighs, right up against your fabric-covered pussy. “Of course, you’d need a bit of training with me though,” he adds, deciding to kiss your shoulder now.

You tilt your head back, enjoying his ministrations. “You mean, like, fighting?” you ask. “Like your wives do?” He pulls away and a sheepish smile is on his lips. “Well, yes, but I meant a “different” type of training,” he chuckles. “I’m, uh…kinda big.”

You stare at him blankly, confused. Instead of clarifying, he takes your hand and places your hand on his abs. “Go ahead; touch me, baby.” His eye twinkles with mirth and lust that excites you. Your hand cascades down his washboard abs to his V-line until you meet his very big, very hard, very thick bulge. Kinda? That thing is like a third arm!

At your gobsmacked expression, he frowns. “Is this making you uncomfortable?” he worriedly asks. You flush, biting your lip to curb some of the horiness that has taken hold of you so you can’t even think straight. “Uh…uncomfortable ain’t the word I’d use.”

Interest crosses Uzui’s handsome face and he yanks you closer to him. “Oh, yeah?” he teases. “I’m gettin’ to you, hm? Lemme see then.” His hands move off of you to move down to his sweats, his fingers gliding against the ties holding them up. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Quickly, you take off your sweater, jeans, and bra along with your socks while Uzui takes his sweats and briefs off it one sweep. Suddenly, you both stand naked in his living room, your eyes drinking each other in. Uzui hungrily stares at your plump, soft, curvaceous body in the lamplight.

Even though you’re clearly bigger than his wives, he still looks at you like you’re a dessert plate. If it wasn’t for how damn good he looked, you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too busy staring at his beautiful body, pierced nipples, and that big cock hanging between his three-trunk thighs. “Oh, wow,” you gasp. “Y-You’re really….big.”

Uzui smiles, flashing you his pearly whites. “I’m on the thicker side too,” he says pridefully. “I thought it’d scare my wives, but they love it, even without penetration.”

You can definitely see why. Your mouth salivates and your pussy aches for him. He steps to you, his chest and nipple rings now eye level with you.

“So I’d train you to take my big dick,” he purrs. “Is that somethin’ you’re interested in tonight? Maybe a trial run?”

A night of orgasms with the Hashira himself? How could you say no? “Yes,” you whisper. “But can I choose the positions?” He smiles, overjoyed with your agreement and gently kisses your lips. “Whatever you want, baby. But let’s take this to the bed.”

As soon as Uzui leads you through the house to the last room—his and his wives’ bedroom—, he and you immediately hit the king-size bed big enough for six people and begin your highly anticipated “trial run”. After a serious of tongue kisses, touches, and licks, you’re suddenly in the most compromising position you’ve been in in a long time.

You sit against the pillows with your legs spread and your panties discarded on the floor after Uzui pulled them down your thighs with his teeth. His thick fingers rub your cunt while your hand is wrapped around his dick coated in spit and flavored lube from his nightstand.

Uzui stares at you adoringly while you jerk him off, pushing his hips farther into your hand. “That’s it, mama,” he coos. “Stroke that dick like a good girl. Get a feel of it.”

You whimper at his praise-fille words, your pleasure only fueled by his thick fingers rubbing your clit in small, slow circles and the wet, lewd sounds of your hand sliding along his slick cock. You get to know each other and your bodies, focusing on what you respond well to and what you may not. So far, your body is responding extremely nicely to everything Uzui does. Your nipples are hard, your heart is pounding, and your pussy is gushing on his fingers as he continues to rub you.

“Isn’t it so nice?” he asks, his voice husky and soft from your little hand stroking his big, thick dick. “Havin’ a big cock in your hand while you get that pussy rubbed?” He looks down at his slick fingers, hardening at the sight of your glistening holds. “She’s so wet for me. It’s been a while since someone has treated her well, hasn’t it?”

He retracts his fingers and holds them to your mouth where you part your lips and begin to suck on them. He moans as he feels your soft lips wrap around his thick digits before he slides them out and places them back on your cunt. His cock grows hard, throbbing in your hand. “U-Uzi,” you moan. “I want you in my mouth.”

He smirks down at you, ever the tease. With one of his other big hands, he wraps it around your throat and squeezes. “What’s the magic word?” He presses a bit harder against your clit, making you gasp. “Please,” you exhale, your eyes fluttering at the pleasure. Uzui places a soft smack on your cunt, making you jump. “Louder,” he demands.

“Please!” You whine, the word escaping you. He presses an awarding kiss against your soft lips as his hand replaces yours wrapped around his cock. “Good girl. Now open up.” Once again, you part your lips and he slowly slides his shaft into your mouth, allowing you time to get used to him.

He is as big and as thick as he looks with a throbbing vein trailing from his tip dribbling in pre-cum to his heavy balls that lightly tap your chin as he sinks in deeper, deeper, deeper.

You taste the salty pre on your tongue as his head slides across it, the taste tantalizing your tastebuds. He is so warm and thick, stretching out your mouth with every inch.

He lets you settle into it for a few minutes before he begins to rock his hips and fuck your mouth. Your eyes sting with tears and your jaw aches from it being open slack, but you induce it. The pleasure of pleasing Uzui and having his big cock in your throat is too good to pass up. Uzui groans, his hand tangled in your hair. “Yes,” he hisses. “That’s it, take me deeper. Fuckin’ hell, V, you’re so good at this.”

Hearing his husky, silky voice sound so thick with pleasure makes you oh-so wet. You begin to gag on his cock as you move your head up and down, bobbing along his shaft. You lick along him like he’s a lollipop, causing spit to drip down your lips and his balls. You’ve never felt so sloppy and slutty, but you enjoy it immensely. Is this how his wives every time they blow him?

Suddenly, Uzui pulls himself out of your heavenly mouth and lays on his back. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his hands wrap around your waist and pull you on top of him towards his face. “Wait, wait,” you gasp. “What are you doing?” You look back at him, perturbed. He just gives you a dashing smile and lays a smack on your ass. “Putting this gorgeous ass on my face where it belongs. Don’t worry, I can handle you, mama. You just worry about gaggin’ on my cock, okay?”

Seeing the gentleness and lust for you in his twinkling eye buries all of your doubts about sitting on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you blurt, not even realizing what you said until you say it. You flush with embarrassment, but Uzui’s cock stirs like you just said the magic word. “Fuck, I can’t wait to have you,” he exhales, shuddering at your obedient reply.

He coaxes you to park your pussy on his face which you do, bracing your hands on his thighs just as his tongue begins to caress every part of your slippery, soft, wet cunt. Your whimpers and moans are muffled as you begin to throat his cock once more, bobbing up and down, your tongue swirling around the heat while you stroke the rest of which you can’t swallow.

Uzui is so unbelievably good at eating pussy, but you wouldn’t think he wasn’t. He uses his fingers where his tongue isn’t, rubbing your clit while his tongue explores your folds, his moans causing vibrations to travel up to your hardening, tingling nipples. You begin to suck on him eagerly, sinking your throat deeper onto his shaft.

He groans underneath you, pulsing his hips up to fuck your face. “So greedy. I’m scared you won’t wanna share me once I get my girls in here.” Smack! He gives your ass another smack that makes your pussy quiver. “Ya think you could be a good girl and share my cock, baby girl?”

You pick your head up from his cock and take a breath of fresh air. “Y-Yes,” you softly whine. His fingers slowly sink into your pussy, making your moans grow louder. “Do you mean that?” he asks, his voice dipping below an octave. You whimper as he curls his digits up, making you rock your hips back in pleasure.

That knot in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps and you open your mouth to gasp as your orgasm approaches. “Oh, my God, Uzui…I’m gonna…oh, shit, I’m cumming!” Your orgasm ripples through you as Uzui begins to gently suck on your clit while he finger-fucks you, taking you through your nut.

It’s a powerful, intense orgasm that makes your eyes flutter closed and your body feel like it’s soaring. It’s an orgasm intensified by the fact that it’s a sexy ass man causing it. That only makes it better. When it finally fades, you shudder with delight and a dopey smile appears on your lips.

Uzui hums in disapproval as if you’ve proven that you’re lying, sliding his fingers out of you. “Guess it can’t be helped, but we’ve still got some training to do.”

He plants a kiss on your asscheek and on your pussy. “Now be a good girl and take this dick the way you need to,” he purrs, giving you the go to use his dick as a personal dildo for your enjoyment. After all, you still need to undergo the rest of your trial run.

You choose cowgirl first because it allows you to take control over the tempo and pressure. Uzui allows it, personally loving how you look bouncing on his cock. He lays back against a pillow with his arms comfortably behind his head as he ogles at the way your ass jiggles and juicy tits bounce every time you sink down onto his cock.

“God, Uzui, yes!” You shout. “Yes, yes, keep going! Don’t fucking stop!” You’re losing your mind on it, practically seeing stars as you rock your hips, your hands gripping his pecs and your knees on the bed.

Uzui smirks up at you, loving this movie. “I’m not even doin’ anything, baby,” he chuckles. “That’s all you. Just look at this ass bouncin’ on my cock.” He gives your ass a sharp smack, loving the way you loudly whine as he does it. “Such a little cock slut you’ve become.” He tuts, licking his fingers before rubbing your clit. “You’re worse than my wives.”

Just as quickly as it happened, he takes his fingers away and sucks on them. “But if you insist on me doin’ something to you…” He suddenly sits up and grabs you before thrusting his hips up to meet yours, plunging his cock deeper inside of you. Your mouth falls slack and you grip his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin.

“How’s this, hm?” He grunts. “Is this enough for my girl, huh?” You can’t even begin to voice the amount of pleasure you feel as he fucks you stupid, bouncing you in his lap. “Fuck, Daddy, yes!” You moan. “Oh, my God, fuck!”

The pleasure only reaches new heights for you both as he suddenly lays you down onto the bed, hikes you legs up over his shoulders, and begins to fuck you missionary style. He mounts you, rides you, plants that big body on top of you as he puts you into his mattress. You wrap your arms and legs around him like a koala bear, enjoying the ride he takes you on.

He smiles down at you, enjoying it too. “Such a flashy expression you’ve got there, baby,” he huffs. “Is this dick that good, hm? You enjoyin’ this trial run so far?” You weakly nod, too busy moaning to form coherent sentences. “Aw, c’mon, mama,” he coos, reaching down to squeeze your throat. “Give Daddy some words.”

You don’t know what feels better: his big hand replacing a necklace around your throat or his cock buried inside of you. Desperation to keep this feeling fills you, giving you that kick to speak. “Uzui,” you moan. “Keep going. Fuck me please!”

Uzui, with his face flushed and his hair falling in his face, smiles down at you the way a wolf would his prey. “Oh, sweetie, you haven’t been fucked yet.”

After pressing a kiss to your bare foot, he bends your knees so he can press his pelvis against yours, your ass cushioning his thighs, and begins to piston his hips against yours. With every thrust and brush of his pelvis against your needy, throbbing clit, you grow wetter. So wet that it drips down your asscrack onto the sheets that you’re currently gripping for dear life.

Fortunately for the both of you, your wetness increases the lubrication, making it easier to Uzui pound your pussy into the bed that rocks and creaks below you. Your moans and swears mingle with one another, creating a chorus of pleasure that echoes throughout the empty house.

It doesn’t take long for that pleasure to build and spill over into your second orgasm of the night. “Cumming!” You sob. “I’m cumming!” Uzui talks you through it with that soft, sexy voice of his, still drilling your shit as if his life depends on it. “Cum for me, baby. Give me another, c’mon.”

He presses himself against you, his nose buried in your hair, and gives you a few more determined, deep strokes that send you over the edge. With a loud sob-like moan, you cum again, gushing all over the thick cock buried inside of your cunt.

Uzui groans as he feels your walls clench around him, threatening to make him cum too…but not yet. He still needs to show you more. When he finally feels you go slack underneath him, he gently unwinds your arms and legs from him. “That’s better,” he sighs with a smile. “Now it’s time to get my nut too.”

Slowly, he pulls out and turns you over without warning. With a gasp of surprise, you feel him grab your hips and lift your ass up before sliding himself back home inside of you. Taking control over you and your body, he begins to slam himself into you, burying his cock deeper and deeper into the wet, quivering folds of your pussy.

“That better?” He bellows from behind you. “You like gettin’ fucked like this?” You whine and moan in response, your face buried in the mattress. He fucks you like you’re his own personal fleshlight, using you for his own pleasure while also giving you yours too. Your pussy, still sensitive from your last two orgasms, squelches and throbs around him, pulling the cum out of him.

Uzui leans down to whisper in your ear, his big body covering yours once more. “And just think: you can get this every day. Every night. Any time you want.” He reaches between your thighs to rub your clit, stimulating you. “You can get it fast and rough or slow and gentle. You can have this whenever you want it, baby. All you have to do is say yes.”

You want to say yes. You’ve never wanted anything more. Your brain is fogged by pleasure and your third orgasm quickly approaching. You can’t believe that you can have endless nights of endless orgasms and hot sex with not only him but his three gorgeous wives too. Who wouldn’t say yes to that?

“Oh, fuck!” You sob into the bed, fisting the sheets. “Too much! I can’t—“

“Uh-uh,” he interrupts you in a voice so demanding and stern that it silences you. “Don’t tell me you can’t take it. You can, baby. You can do whatever you set your mind to.”

He presses your ass down onto the bed and proceeds to fuck you pronebone style, drawing his hips down against your soft, plump ass.

“So you’d better set it on this cock,” he whispers. “If you wanna be mine, you have to.”

You weakly turn your head to the side to look at him, finding his face already within reach. He plants a hot, wet kiss on your lips, sharing his breath with yours. “Don’t you wanna be my girl, mama?” He whispers against your mouth. “Don’t you wanna be mine?”

Yes. Everything in your mind and body is screaming the word: Yes, yes, yes. Finally, you swallow your pride and let your need and the hot sex talk for you. “Uzui!” You sob. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!”

You want to be his and you want him to be yours. His wives, too. You want everything they could ever offer you. You want it all.

You can hear the smile in Uzui’s voice as he speaks, still pounding your cunt into the bed and bringing you to the brink of no return. “Give me another one, baby. Fuckin’ give it to me now. I’m gonna cum too!”

There is no more talking as your orgasms take over, the pleasure rising and expanding until it finally explodes. With a gasp, you orgasm for the third time that night, clenching around Uzui’s magical, beautiful cock. The Hashira cums with you, letting out a loud moan as he fills you to the brim with his cum.

You weakly whimper at the feeling of his warm seed gushing out and filling you up. There is so much! So much that it drips out of you and dribbles down your asscrack. He keeps himself buried inside of you, gripping your body to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear from his bed if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

You let him, loving how big and strong he is. He feels like a weighted sweatshirt on top of you, warm and cozy yet hard and slick with sweat. You inhale, breathing in his scent, falling more in love with it the more you breathe him in. He’s perfect.

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, Uzui gently pries himself away from your body. But he doesn’t roll off of you. For a moment, he takes a minute to stare down at your body, looking at you like you’re a Goddess who has blessed his bedroom.

The way he gazes down at you makes you flush with embarrassment and shyness despite the act you just did together. ‘You’re perfect too,’ he says without opening his mouth.

After sharing a kiss, he finally pulls out of you. “You okay?” He softly asks. Weakly, you nod, unable to lift your head up due to exhaustion. “Here, let me fetch ya a towel.”

You feel the bed move as he gets up and hurries to the bathroom. When he returns, he has a towel and a bottle of massage oil. He begins to wipe you down with the towel, gently wiping the cum off of your thighs and ass. You let him, your limbs feeling like jelly.

“All clean,” he finally announces. “Now hold still for me. You might be a little sore, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t fix.” You feel him straddle you, his powerful thighs on either side of your hips. He squirts some of the massage oil into his palms and vigorously rubs them together before massaging the slick oil into your back, shoulders, ass, thighs, and calves.

You softly hum at the feeling of his hands massaging your sore muscles, his fingers kneading the aches, kinks, and tight knots. He ebbs away the soreness from the sex, causing you to relax into the mattress.

After doing your back, he moves off of you and helps you flip over onto your back. He pecks you on the lips before massaging your neck, breasts, stomach, inner thighs, and legs. The scent of lavender and vanilla hangs in the air from the oil, sending you on a trip to a field of it.

He is so careful with your legs, lifting each one with a gentleness that makes your heart melt. His fingers knead your inner thighs and calves, caressing down to your ankles and toes. You can’t help but feel that it is more intimate that the sex. “You sure know how to treat a girl,” you sigh.

He chuckles as his hands stroke up and down your ankle. “I try. You did so well for me that you deserve a reward.” You flush at the praise and close your eyes, completely and utterly ready to toss in the towel and be his.

Oh. That’s right. You already did say yes…but that was when he was fucking you stupid. It was during sex. You don’t know his perspective on talking shit during sex, but does he consider your answer truthful or valid? Can he tell that you meant it?

Because you did. You want to be his and his wives’ so badly. Things would have to go slow for a while so you can get used to dating four people at the same time, but you also know that they would be patient and happy to give you all the time you need.

Something in you tells you that they would prove to be the best partners you’ve ever had.

Biting your lip, you open your eyes to stare at the beautiful man still massaging your leg. “Uzui?” You whisper. Immediately, he pauses and questionably looks at you. “I meant what I said earlier…about wanting to be yours.”

Realization lights up in his eye and he gently lowers your leg on the bed. “So you mean…you want us?” He expectantly asks. “My wives and me? You actually mean it?”

Slowly, you sit up onto your elbows and place a hand on his. A slow nod and a smile are all Uzui needs for his answers. He scoops you up into his lap and hugs you close, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips that makes you swoon. “Thank you, V,” he whispers, joy evident in his tone. “I promise you that we’ll make you so, so happy. We can take it as slow as you need us to and we can—“

His words are cut off by his cell phone ringing in the living room. “Damn,” he sighs. “Hang on a sec.”

He gently pushes you off of him and rises from the bed to head to the living room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for a moment. You laugh to yourself, in disbelief that you’re actually doing this. But you also find that you’re not regretful. If anything, you’re excited. You’re intrigued. You’re attracted to the idea of being with these four magnetic, attractive individuals and you want to get to know them even better.

Uzui finally returns after a couple of minutes, still naked and looking good enough to lick. He wears a secretive smile on his face as he comes to sit on the bed again. “What?” You ask, raising a brow.

“Well, that was Hinatsuru callin’ me,” he explains. “She said she and the girls will be home early…tonight, actually.” You gape at him, making him laugh. “They decided they wanted to test the storm and realized it was easy to travel in. Plus, they missed me too much. They’ll be home in about two hours.”

Your heart skips a beat as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down to lie with him on the bed. “So now we have two things to celebrate tonight,” he whispers. “And we can do it properly. Does that sound good to you, darling?”

You smile into his chest, your body melting into his. You’ve never thought anything sounded better.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my one shots #demon slayer smut #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #uzui x reader #plus sized reader #bisexual reader #poly love

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glossysoap · 1 year ago

Text

crescents in his skin ; soap mactavish. 1 of 3

or alternatively titled, ‘moronic wolfy claim’. the prequel to my new werewolf soap mini fic.

summary: you and soap were inseparable, usually. at least until a few months ago when he got injured on a mission. ever since then, he hasn’t been able to even be in your vicinity. maybe it has something to do with his newfound strength. or the way you could swear his eyes shone amber when he was angry.

tags: pov shifting but it’s easy to tell which pov is which don’t worry, future werewolf soap - he hasn’t been turned yet, fem reader, smut, cum play, minor degradation, major praise kink, boot riding, perv soap, best friends to mates lovers, possessive soap, perv soap, yearning, misunderstanding, perv soap, not actually unrequited love. did i mention perv soap?

notes: gaelic is in bolded italics, english translation is right after it in non bolded italics. other than that, fantasies are in italics (though it’s easy to tell either way).

word count: 7,800

If anyone had to pick a word that describes you and Soap, it would be inseparable.

Always attached at the hip. Talking each others ear off, even about the most mundane of things. The two of you would always be seen laughing with each other, your eyes bright and crinkled at the edges as he whispers some cheeky joke into your ear.

Everything that he showed towards everyone else, was amplified ten fold for you.

He would always be touching you in some way. Whether it was on your shoulders, on the small of your back, or enveloping your smaller hand in his — his warm hands would always be on you in some way.

Of course, he was touchy with everyone. It was in his nature. He would clap a hand on Ghost’s shoulder when walking up behind him, or pulling him into a hug after a close call.

All of that was nothing compared to how he was with you.

If you were shivering, you wouldn’t even be able to grab your own jacket before he was taking his own coat off and wrapping it around you. You would feel your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze as he adjusts the collar of the coat, his thumbs grazing the skin of your jaw.

Whenever you were riding along with the task force in the Hum-vee, he would always choose the seat right next to you. If the vehicle came to hard stop, his muscular arm would dart out in front of you to shield you. Your eyes would widen as you looked down at his arm pressed against your stomach, keeping you safe in your seat.

Every sentence that dropped from his mouth and hit your ears was always accompanied by a pet name. Not a platonic one like ‘lad’ or ‘brother’ that he reserved for Ghost or Gaz, far from it.

The pet names he had reserved for you were far less platonic and far more.. romantic.

Nearly every pet name would be murmured against your skin, whether it be his lips against your forehead or on your cheek. Or against your ear as he whispers, “Ye’ did great on that mission, bonnie.” Always followed up by a kiss on the cheek.

“Ye’ alright, darlin’?” He would ask you after a close call, cupping your cheeks and eyes scanning your face for any scrapes or cuts. His big calloused hands holding your face so tenderly made you feel safer than any bulletproof vest ever could.

“Yer shiverin’ love! Here, take my jacket.” He would almost order, leaving no room for protest as he was already shedding his own tactical coat and draping it over your shoulders. Your mouth would be open, about to assure him that you were alright when he adjusted the collar of the jacket. Letting his thumbs graze your neck and jaw as he adjusted the fabric, eyes scanning your face from pure instinct. His cerulean eyes would be burning into your face, committing every detail to memory. How your eyes were widened in a mix of shock and nerves, your brows raised. How you bit your lip when you were focusing on something, and how that always made him yearn to take your lip between his teeth and nip at it.

Bonnie. Darling. Love. Those nicknames were specifically reserved for you and you only. Far from platonic.

Any one of your features would send him spiraling — making his heart pound, and his jeans tighten with a familiar tent.

Your eyes.

The way they would automatically search for him when you entered a room, always instinctively searching him out. The way your lips would quirk up at the corners in a shy smile when your eyes find him.

Good pup, he would think.

It’s almost like your brain already knows you belong with him, friendly boundaries be damned.

The way your eyes peer up at him, all wide and innocent. Always giving him your full attention, treating him with a tunnel vision of sorts as you waited for any order or call.

A single look at your eyes would send his mind into various fantasies of you, in various positions and situations.

You occupied every inch of space in his mind, at any given moment.

Just like you did right now, while he was working out in the gym on base.

His mind was flooded with images of you in compromising positions and conjured up fantasies as he began training.

He imagines your eyes all glossed over with tears, pupils blown wide with lust. Images would flood his brain of the two of you camped out in the Hum-vee, shrouded in the dark of a stakeout. Mission objective already long forgotten.

He imagines you sitting in the backseat with him, with your pants pulled down to your knees and your legs spread open. Your shirt slipped up to reveal your stomach. His tan arm snaking down your abdomen, warm and hairy against your cool skin. You could see every intricate detail of his tattoo on his forearm as his hand slipped beneath your panties. You could only stare down at his descending hand and gasp as he grazed along your wet slit with his forefinger. You could hear him laugh next to you, sporting a cocky grin at how quickly you were already soaked. Only a few moments passed before he slipped his middle and ring finger inside your wet cunt with a quiet squelch, making your breath hitch at the intrusion. It didn’t take long before he had pushed his fingers all the way past the knuckle and to the hilt. The two thick digits spreading you open and filling you so deep.

“Mmm, so tight, bonnie.” He murmurs into your ear, moving his mouth to suck along the span of your neck.

“Soap, oh my god!” The feeling of his tongue licking a stripe up your neck, him leaving messy open mouthed kisses along your skin, mixed with his fingers pumping in your wet cunt at a furious pace left you so overstimulated. You didn’t know where to look, what to say. Where to put your hands. You could only jerk your hips against his hand and let out almost incoherent babbles.

Your head is thrown back against the headrest, face all scrunched up in pleasure and mouth open in breathy moans. His mouth is pulled into a self indulgent smirk against your neck as he watched your body writhe in pleasure with each pump and thrust of his fingers.

He could just imagine your legs twitching and your hips bucking against his fingers, your juices soaking his hand. He could imagine the warm, wet feeling of your cunt squeezing around his fingers as he pumped them in and out at a furious pace. He could practically hear your panting and whines echo through the Hum-vee, paired with squelching from your soaked cunt as his fingers pulled out and pushed back in.

“Soap,” he could imagine you moaning his name, looking up at him with glossy eyes as tears pricked at your lash line. Your hands searching for purchase desperately, trying to grab at the leather seat underneath you but to no avail. “Please.”

In his head, in the fucked up fantasy he had conjured up, he loved the sight so much that he slipped a third finger past your entrance and worked it in along side the other two. Grinning wickedly when he sees your mouth fall open, chest heaving as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“No, no, no. No ‘Soap’. No ‘Sergeant’. None o’ that. Just ‘Johnny’.” His fingers quicken, and his smile grows at your widening eyes.

“Say it. Say my name while ye’ cream around my fingers.” He imagined himself all but growling in your ear as he looked at your squirming figure, twitching uncontrollably from the pleasure.

He saw you bite your lip to silence your moans and he thought, not a chance. “Say. It.” He ground out, voice full of gravel. To drive that point home, he curled his fingers just so. Hitting that spot that made your toes curl and that knot in your stomach tighten. He pairs it perfectly with a hard bite in the crook of your neck, teeth digging in to leave a bruising reminder of who you belonged to.

“Ah! I found that spot, didn’t I, pup? This spot, right here.” He smirks, so self satisfied when he sees your mouth drop open and your hips buck.

Your eyes would drop to his arm that was snaked down your stomach, his muscles tensing and flexing as he worked his fingers inside your pussy. Then you would link your arms with his arm, grounding yourself in reality as he drove you closer and closer to the first orgasm of many.

Just imagining you moaning his name is enough to make him hard.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!” You would babble his name mindlessly, your hips bucking against his fingers and your legs twitching. “Yeah, there ye’ go.” He would hum in approval against your ear, the sound from deep in his chest as you squirt against his hand. Drenching his fingers and palm, the fluid dripping onto the leather beneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you came down from your high, your heart racing in your chest. You were still shaking and spent, clinging to his arm as he used his free hand to reach between your thighs. Your legs would twitch and jerk away from his touch, overwhelmingly sensitive after cumming all over his hand only moments prior. He shushed you gently, his lips murmuring all warm and rumbling against your ear to calm you down. He used two fingers to sweep along the slippery leather, gathering your juices and coating his fingers with the slick. You cracked your eyes open long enough to see him bringing his coated fingers up to his lips, his cerulean eyes still staring at you. Your half lidded eyes widened as you watched his tongue dart out to lick your juices off of his fingers, popping them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a pop each time.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew ye’ would. My sweet girl.” Without giving you a moment of reprieve, he grabs your throat with that same hand he just licked and pulls your face close to his. He applies the slightest bit of pressure to your windpipe, not enough to cut off your airway but just enough to make you deliciously dizzy. You could feel his breath fan against your lips from how close he was, you could smell the traces of bourbon from his mouth.

He all but smashes his lips against yours and kissing you fervently, all messy and sloppy. You yelp against his mouth, the sound quickly turning into a pathetic whine that he swallows. He nips and bites at your lip, pulling just a fraction — enough to tease you. Enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips and force you to taste yourself on him, letting his tongue mingle with yours.

Then the image in his head shifted from the inside of the Hum-vee, to the two of you in his quarters. With you on your knees in front of him.

He saw you on your knees, staring up at him through your lashes as you worshipped his cock. Kneeling in front of him, sitting between his spread legs as his jeans were pulled down just enough to free his erection. While one had was stroking him, your other hand would be laid on his bare thigh, feeling the scratch of his body hair against your soft skin. One hand would be rested on your head, petting your hair while his other hand would be cupping your cheek. His thumb stroking at the soft skin of your face, his eyes staring into yours.

“Look so fuckin’ good like that on yer knees for me.”

He could imagine your shaky hands reach for his hard cock that was resting against his stomach, your eyes glazed over and pupils dilated with anticipation. He could imagine your small, almost inaudible gasp when you finally take him in your hand, feeling how hard and hot his shaft is. How it’s pulsing under your touch, desperate for you to start stroking. He could imagine his own breath hitching as your hand finally moved up and down his uncut length. He could imagine your own breathing grow heavier as you watched your hand pump his cock, twisting near the head and squeezing a bit when you reach the base. Your hand would move on autopilot, as if it was made for his cock. Made for him.

You were made for him.

“Sittin’ all pretty just for me, hm? Isn’t that right, doll?” He would murmur with a possessive lilt to his voice, lips curved into a smirk as his eyes peered down into yours. You could only nod, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“C’mon, open yer mouth for me. There ye’ go.”

He imagined your tongue sticking out, letting him hit the head of his cock on your tongue with little taps. He imagined you shyly licking the tip, taking tentative laps along the sensitive skin. He imagined your tongue darting out to trace along the vein that ran underneath his shaft, feeling your hands move to wrap around the base of his cock.

“Fuck, good fuckin’ pup.”

He imagined your plump, shiny lips wrapped around his cock as you finally started sucking. He imagined your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears rimming your lash line, eyes glossing over. He imagined your muffled whimpers around his cock as you bobbed your head up and down. His hand would be fisted in your hair and he would be controlling the pace, using your hair as a handle as he fucked your throat.

He could imagine tear tracks running down your cheeks and drool dribbling down your chin as you kept taking him all the way down to the base of his cock. He could imagine the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, feeling you swallow around him and sending waves of pleasure into his core.

“So fuckin’ perfect like this, doll. Taking my cock so well, like a good fuckin’ girl. Always so good for me.”

You would preen around his cock, glossy eyes crinkling at the edges as you smiled from the praise. Even though your vision was blurred from the tears welling up, just hearing his gravelly voice shower you with compliments was enough.

He could imagine you grinding your cunt against his boot while you sucked his cock. He could almost hear your muffled whines and feel your moans sending vibrations to his core. Tear tracks would be running down your cheeks as you kept taking him all the way to the hilt, your nose brushing against the brown tuft of hair at the base. Spit would be dribbling down your chin and down your neck.

“So pathetic. Humping on my boot like a damn dog, so fuckin’ greedy.”

You would whine around his length at his degrading words, but your stomach grew tighter nonetheless. Your pussy squeezed around nothing as you ground down desperately against his boot, just aching to be filled. Your hips would be rocking against his boot, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach with each pass of your cunt against the leather.

“Look at you, already makin’ such a mess on the floor with how wet you are.” He would mock you. “Well, go on then. Fuck yourself on my boot. Cum like the desperate slut you are.”

He can just imagine your muffled cries and eyes squeezed shut as you come apart on his boot, drenching the leather with your juices.

Then the scene in his mind transforms from you on your knees, to the inside of the bases shower room.

Skin slapping against skin would echo throughout the tiled room along with the sound of the running showers. Broken moans and whimpers falling from your kiss-swollen lips, grunts and curses pouring from Johnny’s.

He would have you bent over the sink, his naked body pressed up against yours as he ruts into you. The only thing holding you steady were your elbows planted on the counter as he plowed into your slippery cunt, his big hands gripping your hips enough to leave a handprint in his wake.

“Feel good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He could imagine you babbling mindlessly.

“Aww, ye’, I know.” He would croon almost cruelly in that sickly sweet tone of his.

He imagines tears running down your cheeks as he takes you from behind, his cock buried deep in your cunt. Whines and grunts echoed in his mind, along with the sounds of rough slapping skin against skin. Wet sounds mixed in with the cacophony of noises as his cock plunged back inside your soaked pussy with each thrust of his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight for me, pet.”

Mirrors were on the wall across from the two of you, leaving your reflection on full display for him to drink in as he fucked you.

While his mind was filled with these conjured up images of you stark bare and taking his cock, he took this opportunity to imagine what you would actually look like naked. What your body would look like under all of those layers of scrubs or civilian clothes, sometimes even military gear.

The only glimpse at your figure he had to go off of was from a Special Forces fundraiser gala, where you were wearing a beautiful gown. It was a black, off the shoulder dress with a plunging neckline and a slit running up the thigh. Not hitting too high, just hitting mid way up your thigh — just enough to tease Soap with a sliver of leg. Enough to give him a glimpse of a black lace garter hugging your thigh.

“So beautiful. Such a pretty fuckin’ girl.”

So, as his brain painted that picture of the two of you in the shower room, his brain also filled in the blanks with what your body might look like.

He imagines staring into your reflection in the mirror, and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust, skin shining with sweat and nipples hardened from arousal. He imagines the buds swollen and sore from being sucked and nipped on. He imagines stripes of wetness decorating your breasts from his tongue tasting your skin, dipping between the valley of your tits. He imagines mouth shaped marks and indentations littering your skin, all from his mouth claiming you as his.

For a split second, he even imagines how ropes of his cum would look splattered across your tits.

“Only like this for me, isn’t that right?”

He imagines your chest heaving as you pant and gasp with pleasure, especially when your breath hitches from a particularly hard thrust. He imagines your pulse thrumming hard under your skin, heart racing and pounding in your ears.

He imagines how your ass would feel as he gripped it in his big hands, the soft skin being such a harsh contrast against his rough, calloused palms. He imagines how your flesh would ripple with each thrust, or how it would jiggle when his palm would come down in a swift spank across your ass. He could practically hear your yelp as handprint welts formed on your skin.

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long.”

He imagines your thighs rubbing up against his as he’s rutting into your hot cunt, grunting with every thrust in and every pull out and every thrust back in. He imagines how shaky your legs would be from all of his ministrations and the onslaught of ecstasy he put you through. He imagines your cunt squeezing his cock so tight, almost pushing him out with how tight you were clenching down on him. Fuck, you were all warm and wet and spongey. He imagines your juices mixing with his and dripping down your thighs.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. Just soakin’ my cock. Knew ye’ wanted me. Just like I’ve wanted ye’.”

Finally, he imagines your face while he fucks you against the mirror. He imagines how your expression would shift and contort in pure ecstasy, your brows all furrowed and eyes clenched shut. Your mouth hanging open in a gasp and your tongue lolling out as his cock reaches that sensitive spot over and over.

It was the perfect image. You losing yourself impaled on his cock, cunt squeezing him perfectly as you came closer and closer to the edge. Him buried deep inside you, impossibly close to you in ways he’d always imagined.

It was perfect in every way, except for one. Your eyes were closed. You couldn’t see your reflection in the mirror in front of you, you couldn’t see yourself coming apart for him and only him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“No, no, no. Not a fuckin’ chance.”

With that, he leans down and reaches to grips your jaw. He relishes in seeing your eyes flash open in shock, enjoying the cute little yelp fall from your lips as he snakes his muscular arm around your chest. He uses the vice-like hold on your jaw to pull you up until you were flush against his chest. Your hand darted up to hold his wrist as he held your jaw, your other hand grasping at his arm that was wrapped around your chest. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving white crescent marks against his tan flesh as you searched for purchase — anything to ground you in reality.

“You’re gonnae keep those eyes open. You’re gonnae watch yourself cum on my cock.” He growls into your ear, his free hand snaking across your chest while his other hand was still gripping your jaw. “Oh, fuck—,” You would cry out at the new, closer angle he was thrusting into you with. The hand that was splayed across your chest groped your breast, his rough skin burning at your flesh and his fingers tweaking at your nipple.

“Yeah, ye’ feel that? Feel me splitting you open?” Would be ground out into your ear, the husky timbre of his voice sending chills down your spine.

His hips would snap up into you, his cock hitting you even deeper and making you feel impossibly fuller with each thrust. Your eyes would roll with each cruel snap of his hips, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Oh, fuuuck.” You cry out, legs feeling more like jelly with each passing second. You knew if his strong arms weren’t holding you so tight, you would’ve melted in a puddle on the tile beneath you. “Johnny!”

You could feel him smirk against your cheek.

“That’s it, tell everyone who’s makin’ ye’ feel so good. Tell everyone who ye’ belong to.” The hand on your jaw would make you face the mirror in front of you.

You would open your eyes to see yourself in the reflection, all manhandled by your best friend while his thick cock pistoned in and out of your slick cunt. His big hand would have a firm grip on your jaw as he controlled where you looked, forcing you to look at yourself while getting orgasms forced out of you. His other hand would be snaked around your chest, muscular arm flexing as he palmed your breast. Both of you would be covered in a sheen of sweat and tears would be running down your cheeks from all of the pleasure building up.

“Johnny, please!” You would all but shout, looking at him through the reflection with blurry eyes. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A moment of reprieve, maybe? One last push to shove you over the edge? You weren’t sure.

“Please, what? Hm? Use yer words.”

“Please make me cum! Please, please, please— oh, fuck!” Your begging would be cut off by your own moan as the hand that was on your chest moved down to rub circles over your swollen clit.

He would only laugh as you squirted on his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

He would be pulled, yanked out of his perverted fantasies by the loud crash of a weight hitting the matted gym floor. A lower ranking soldier had finished with their sets and let the weight fall to the floor without any regard for the Sergeants eardrums.

Soap just shook his head and moved to leave the gym, in an attempt to rid himself of the images that were sure to get him painfully hard.

After he cleaned the machines he used, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed his thermos.

Soap walked out of the base gym after a hard training, his tan skin all flushed and sweaty. Mohawk all messy and some strands sticking to his forehead. He wore a white wife beater and grey sweatpants, and he held a thermos filled with ice water at his side.

He willed his mind to drift away from the images that made his cock hard, and instead forced himself to think about things that made his heart race. After he left the gym and let the heavy doors close behind him, his mind immediately thought of one thing that fit that description.

You.

You and your annoyed expression that you would wear whenever he shooes away yet another date, usually by slinging his arm over your shoulder and drawling in your ear, “Who’s this, babe?”

The annoyed expression always featured a clenched jaw and your perfect lips downturned into a frown, paired with an eye roll that could rival the Lieutenants.

You also wore that annoyed expression when receiving unwanted attention from other guys. Which is what was about to happen in a few moments.

His heart pounds in his ears as he comes down from his workout, still panting a bit as he uncapped his thermos. He leans against the wall as he raises his thermos to his lips, gulping down the ice water greedily. As he tilts his head back and drinks, his eyes spot a familiar figure behind his raised thermos.

You. You were walking the halls of the base with a stack of files folded under your arm, presumably to deliver to Price’s office.

He makes a surprised noise, swallowing whatever water was in his mouth and quickly screwing the cap back on to his thermos.

With a grin painted on his lips, he breaks into a jog towards you. He couldn’t wait to talk to you, be near you, especially since he was about to ship off for a long deployment the next day.

Once he caught up to you, his grin quickly dissolves into a frown as he sees someone already talking to you. A guy.

The guy was dressed in some run-of-the-mill camouflage that was fit for some random soldier. Not a uniform for an established officer or for someone with a respected ranking. Just some mediocre boy.

Which is exactly what Soap saw when he looked at the guy. Mediocre. No talent. No direction. No drive.

Cerulean eyes skimmed the soldier with a displeased expression. He was wearing an intimidated expression, his eyes were wide as he looked at the Sergeant. His eyes scanning the soldiers wrinkled uniform and crooked patch, already finding uniform violation after violation. Then he scrutinized what was under the piss poor uniform, the lads muscles. Or lack thereof.

The soldier was wiry, to say the least. Barely an ounce of muscle or fat on his bones. There was no way he would make it past basic training, let alone be able to build an actual military career.

There was also no way that boy could ever please you. Not like Soap could, anyway. No one could ever please you like Soap could.

Soap gave him a final once over before chuckling. He could break that man, that boy, in half in five seconds flat.

“That bloke? Really?” He scoffs as he sees you entertaining the recruit. His usually bright eyes are scanning that boy up and down, with furrowed brows and a tight lip. Looking at the recruit with what could only be described as disgust.

“Isn’t even a cadet.” Soap mutters under his breath as he stands next to you, watching the man scurry away with his tail between his legs. You roll your eyes and groan because this is what feels like the millionth man he’s run off.

“Never gonna get laid at this rate.” You mutter under your breath before storming off, not even giving Soap a passing glance as you bumped into his shoulder.

He felt a fire ignite deep in his core at your words. His eyes brightened and he grinned as he broke into a jog after your retreating figure.

“Mmm,” He hums, a rumble coming deep from his throat. Almost a growl. “Never say never, brèagha.” Pretty. Soap called, wearing a boyish grin as he caught up with you in the hallway. “You know where to find me.”

All you had to do was say the word and he would come running, giving you orgasm after orgasm. Making your legs twitch and your toes curl, making your nails dig into his back and leave scratches along the skin.

He longed to feel that sting rip across his back as your nails dug in, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of your claim on him.

Because he did belong to you, even if you didn’t know it. Body and soul.

You just kept walking, though. Barely even registering what he said. You heaved a sigh and spared him a side eye glance.

“Oh my god, you’re so funny.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm at his teasing, because of course he was kidding. Right?

You were painfully oblivious to his affections towards you, because that’s just how he always was. He always joked like that, especially towards you. Always putting on that boyish charm and acting flirty, buttering you up with compliments and leaving hot fleeting touches against your skin.

You kept your eyes ahead of you, not daring to look at Soap or his damn tank top that showed off his muscles so well. The muscles that were so solid and thick, littered with tan scars that took nothing away from his beauty. If anything, they just added to it. They showed how strong he was. How sturdy he was. All of the many wounds earned and injuries endured, scars left in place as a reminder of where he’s been. What he’s survived.

You also didn’t want to risk a glance at his hands. The rough calloused skin that was always oh so warm, veins prominent as blood pumped through his body. Just a single glance at his muscles or hands would no doubt send you down a spiral of heart racing thoughts, thoughts that would have you squeezing your thighs together.

At the very least, you wanted to hold those thoughts off until you were in the privacy of your quarters. The security provided by the four walls would let you get rid of that.. tension.

“And what does that word even mean anyway? You know I don’t understand gaelic.” You muttered, sparing a quick glance at his hulking figure as he walked next to you. Just before you looked away from him once more, you caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at his lips.

Even as you brushed off his genuine offer as just a joke, his wolfish grin just remained. Still teetering the line between a smirk and a smile.

“Ah, now why would I go and tell ye’ that? That just sucks all the fun out of it, hen.” He would tease, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty!” You cringed and tried to slip out of his hold but he was just too strong, keeping you trapped against his warm skin. You forced yourself to think that your heartbeat racing was only a result of surprise, not from being in such close proximity to his hulking form. It definitely wasn’t a result of feeling the intense heat rolling off of him in waves, or the musk you couldn’t help but take a whiff of. And it definitely wasn’t due to his big arm weighing so heavily on your shoulders, almost like staking a claim on you.

He only laughed at your struggle, the sound making your stomach flutter even if you were annoyed.

As you continued walking down the hallway with him glued to your side, you went back to avoiding eye contact with him. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he drank in all of your features. That damn smirk never left his lips, matter how annoyed you were or how that scowl was damn near engraved on your perfect lips.

No matter how much you complained or pouted, always because of his overbearing nature and his dedication to batting men away from you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips.

He loved the way you pressed them together, especially when you were focused on a particularly rough stitch, poking the needle through bloodied flesh. Exactly like all of the times you had to patch him up after bullets scraped his flesh, or found themselves imbedded in his muscle. He could feel his heart threaten to beat out of his chest at the mere thought of your hands on his bare skin, sewing the wounds shut.

He loved the way you bit your lip, taking your bottom lip between your teeth nervously when you worried about something. How your brows would furrow and your eyes would widen a fraction whenever you saw him returning injured from a mission. He would always feel his chest fill with warmth, no matter how deep the bullet had buried itself in him, when he sees your worried face hovering over him on the gurney.

He loved the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way. Or, more accurately, when he would insert himself in any situation that involved you and another man. He can’t help it.

Not when you’re jutting your bottom lip out like that, looking up at your best friend with sad eyes after he kicks yet another man to the curb. You can’t blame him for doing that either, he thinks. Not when it’s so glaringly obvious that none of those men could take care of you. None of them could please you, make you feel good. Make you feel safe.

Before he knew it, the two of you had made it to the elevator that you had to take to get to Price’s office. You needed to get on so you lifted his heavy arm off of your shoulders and stepped away from him. “Are you even listening? Hello?” Your voice cut in, making him blink a few times. You were looking at him with furrowed brows as if you were appraising him. Searching to find some reason for his strange behavior.

“Sorry, what?” He grinned sheepishly and felt his face heat up in a blush, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You eyed him warily.

“I said, would you mind running back to my quarters to grab my headphones? I forgot them and I need them to work out. I would go and them myself but I need to get these files to Price like.. now.” You waved the files a bit to emphasize your point. “If I go all the way across base to get them myself, there’s no way I’ll be able to get these to Price in time. And if I get them after giving these to Price, the gym will be closed.” You dug through your pockets to find your key card.

“Yer lucky yer cute.” Soap said, enjoying the flustered look on your face as he snatches your key card from your hand. Then he turns on his heel, jogging in the direction of your quarters.

Which is how he ended up here, swiping your key card against the doorknob and waiting for your door to unlock.

As he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, he felt a strange sense of excitement flood his stomach.

Of course he had been in your room before, but you had always accompanied him. Now, he was all alone. He could look at any of your pictures if he wanted. He could touch any of your belongings without worrying about you catching him.

He couldn’t help how his eyes wondered around the room, taking in every detail of the room you inhabited.

Your familiar scent hit his nose the second he stepped foot in your room. Vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of freshness and fruit notes. Like a bakery in Autumn, filled with baked apple pie while the leaves outside were turning orange.

The smell was so soothing, so familiar. He smelled it almost every time he brought you into a bear hug and nestled his head in your neck.

The smell was home.

The next thing he noticed were the decorations you had adorned your room with. Among the walls were a few posters and art pieces, paintings with your favorite colors and designs that reflected your personality.

There was also a bulletin board hung right above your desk, with plenty of photos pinned in the tan board. Soap smiled as he gazed at the photos, seeing himself in so many of them. Many of them had captured you as well, a lot of them were candid shots that you didn’t notice at the time of the shot.

Some were taken when you were stitching up a wound on Soap, perfectly capturing your skilled hands holding him still. They also perfectly captured Soap’s wolfish grin and bright eyes as he stared at you while you stitched him up.

Others were taken by Soap as he snapped a sneaky photo of you next to him. You would be sitting or laying next to him, totally focused on something else while he had his arm wrapped around you. Effectively trapping you in his warmth and preventing you from squirming away. Soap would bring the camera up in front of the two of you and make sure he got his own face in the view, flashing one of his blinding grins. The arm that was wrapped around you would move to pet your hair or caress your cheek.

The next thing that caught his eye was your bed. All made up, neat and tidy. Your sheets, comforter and pillows were all made up of your favorite colors. He walked over to your bed and outstretched his hand, feeling the fabric of your blanket on his palm. He could just imagine you laying there on your soft sheets, your hair resting against the silk pillowcase.

He could also imagine your head thrown back against those pillowcases as he thrusted into you, your face contorted in pleasure and moans falling from your lips. Or maybe him pushing your legs against your chest and devouring your cunt.

He felt like it was a perfect mirror of your relationship dynamic, his rough skin against your soft blanket. He was rough and you were soft.

Finally, his eyes landed on your dresser. There were some artificial potted plants placed on top, with bright petals that caught the eye. There was a small white jewelry dish as well, made of glass and marbled with your favorite colors. The dish held a few rings and necklaces, all pieces he could very clearly remember you wearing.

His eyes brightened as he saw your headphones sitting right next to your jewelry dish. He grabbed them and swiftly slipped them into his sweatpants pocket.

He was just about to turn and leave your room when something caught his eye.

He saw a flash of blue sitting at the bottom of an otherwise empty laundry hamper in the corner of your room. He can’t help himself as he all but runs over to the hamper.

His breath hitches as he sees what the flash of blue was.

A dark blue thong. All lace and intricate detailing, so fucking tempting. And you had just taken it off. Before he could stop himself, he reaches down into the hamper and picks up your thong. The thong that was lucky enough to sit on your perfect skin.

It made his mouth water as he stared at the soft lingerie in his grasp, thinking about you wearing it. Thinking about the fabric riding up on your hips, the lace trim decorating your skin perfectly.

He felt that familiar tightness in his sweatpants as he gripped the fabric tight, his knuckles going white.

It took all of his self control to not just lift the panties up to his nose and smell your juices right then and there.

His hand moved by itself as he pocketed the thong, the lingerie almost burning a hole in his pocket.

Before he knew it, he had made it back to you and given your headphones to you. He barely said two words to you before he was jogging back to his own quarters, his heart racing the entire time.

All he could think about was the lingerie stuffed in his pocket, waiting for him to touch it.

The minute he set foot inside his room, he slammed the door and hurried to lock it behind him.

Only moments later he was sprawled across his bed with his sweatpants pulled down to his knees, and his tank top thrown on the floor. He reached down and let his weeping cock spring out of his boxers. The head was red and swollen, fully hard as it laid against his lower stomach, a steady drip of precum was already leaking from his slit. It was pulsing, blood pumping through it as he kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you.

His hand wrapped around his cock as he started pumping it at a languid pace.

“Ah, that’s it,” He hissed through his teeth, feeling that familiar heat build up in his stomach.

Using his thumb, he rubbed slow circles onto the tip, spreading the white liquid around the head of his cock. Slowly, he began stroking himself from the head of his cock down to the base.

With every pump of his fist around his cock, a breathy moan would fall from his lips. His head would fall back against his pillows, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat that rivaled his post-workout shine, his tan skin was flushed pink as he panted and huffed. His free hand would still be gripping the lace panties with bruising force, as if he was imagining himself holding your ass the same way or pulling your hair the same way.

“Fuck.” His hips would buck into his hand, lifting off the bed as he chased his own pleasure.

He brings your panties up to his nose and takes a big inhale, smelling your musk and juices in one fell swoop. He moans your name so wantonly, so desperately as his hand picks up the pace.

He takes another whiff. Imagining how you would look right in front of him at this very moment. Thinking about the earlier fantasies that plagued his mind did a lot to bring him close to the edge.

All he could think about was how your pretty lips would look wrapped around his weeping cock, how your hands would feel so soft on his sensitive skin. He could imagine your tits bouncing as you bobbed your head on his cock, your nipples poking through your thin top.

He twisted his hand with each stroke up and down his shaft, squeezing at the tip. His white precum was now coating his cock, making lewd wet sounds with every stroke.

“So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ perfect.” He curses, his abs twitching as his hips bucked and squirmed. You were so fucking pretty. You were so fucking perfect.

“Need ye’ so bad. You need me.” His fist moved quicker around his cock.

The more he pumped and stroked, and the more he babbled into the empty room, he felt the knot in his stomach build.

“Ye’ need me to take care of ye’. I’m the only one who can make ye’ feel this good.” His breathing picked up as he felt himself get closer and closer to the edge.

He knew just what would push him right over.

He brought your wet panties down to his cock and started stroking with the flimsy piece of fabric. Immediately, the second that the fabric touched his throbbing cock, his breath hitched.

Even just the thought alone that those panties touched your wet cunt earlier that day was enough to send him over the edge, but feeling your juices on his cock?

That was more than enough to make him shoot ropes of hot cum on his heaving stomach, his hips stuttering as his orgasm ran through him.

Your name falling from his lips as he came with a guttural moan.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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#modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare smut #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw2 x reader #soap mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #soap mactavish x reader #werewolf soap #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #fem reader #afab reader #aglossyholiday2023

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redtsundere-writes · 3 months ago

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Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 1: Ear Cleaning

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 1936 words.

A/N: From popular demand, I'll post the fic here too. Enjoy! :3

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives.

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye.

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness.

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic.

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact.

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again.

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard that it was bleeding.

This was the first time he ordered something directly from you. Usually you followed Uraume's general instructions like everyone else. You sat up slowly to regain what little balance you had left. You followed him to his room as he had ordered. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how nervous you were. As your small steps echoed like a pleasant trickle in the gloom, the servants came out of their hiding spots to quickly sign you in. They wished you the best of luck and that you would make it out of his room alive. That only put more pressure on you.

You entered your majesty's luxurious room. Your eyes were fascinated to see so many extravagances in one place. Crystal chandeliers, rugs made of exotic animals and gold decorative pieces. All the furniture was precisely designed to suit his majesty's tastes and everything was neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the castle, his room was a museum full of expensive artworks that the average person could not even imagine existed.

The great fearsome monster was reclining on a red satin-covered divan. His eyes were closed, his four arms crossed over his broad chest and his legs barely touched the floor due to his impressive height. You approached him carefully so as not to ruin his peace. Next to the divan was a wooden cabinet with all the necessary tools to groom him thoroughly.

“Clean my ears,” he ordered in a gruff voice, cocking his head over the rest for you to begin immediately. “You better do a good job,” he threatened you. You swallowed dryly because it would be the first time you would touch his majesty and if you did it wrong, the last.

You took out the necessary instruments to carry out the task. You knelt in front of his head. As expected, the king smelled exquisite. It was strong, woody, and addictive. His pink hair was soft to the touch, but you tried to avoid touching it so as not to muss it. You dedicated yourself to cleaning the outside of his ear with a swab, concentrating on the helix and the back of the ear. Your hands were delicate around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was minimal and warm. Sukuna's body began to relax as time passed. If he didn’t focus, he could fall asleep.

Sukuna felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. You carefully dug so as not to hurt him. You could feel his discomfort in the way he squeezed his eyelids with each movement you made.

“Let me know if I get too deep, my king,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Just do your damn job,” he answered grudgingly.

You continued cleaning his ear little by little. The task was not as complicated as you thought, but you could not let your guard down with a king who can decide your fate with a snap of his fingers. After wiping the outside with absorbent cotton, you were finally done with the first ear. Sukuna was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so you could proceed with his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side, while the couch creaked under the weight.

You took a deep breath. All you had to do was repeat what you had already done, and you would finish the task alive. You watched mesmerized as Sukuna's tattooed chest rose and fell from his steady breathing. Sukuna let out a whimper as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You already felt your throat being slit for a simple mistake.

“Be careful! Can’t you do something so simple?” He grumbled.

You apologized immediately and continued on your task as you lowered your head in fear. “Damn humans,” he thought with a frown. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, he got over his anger and returned to the oasis of relaxation where he left off.

Sukuna let out a yawn as soon as you finished. A proud smile of your own escaped your lips. You had survived your first direct order. You glanced at the time on the large gold clock hanging over the door. It was getting late, and you had to get back to the kitchen soon to help with the dinner preparations. You returned the utensils to their respective places and got up to politely leave the place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna asked you as he got up from the couch to move to his giant bed. “Massage my head,” he ordered once again. You nodded obediently.

His majesty's bed was lined with the softest fabrics in the world. The silk pillows were engraved with the flags of the kingdom, the blankets were of pure wool and the mattress appeared to be made of goose feathers. Sukuna's heavy head was on your comfortable lap. Your soft thighs were softer than her own pillows. Your magic fingers massaged his temples in circles. You could hear him purring subtly like a contented kitten, even though he was physically not as cute as one.

Before long, Sukuna was fast asleep. Seeing his eyes closed and his light breathing, you decided to go with the other servants to continue your work. As soon as you got off the bed, he left his heat provider on his side. Before you could continue your way to the exit, you heard that terrible voice behind you.

“Who told you could leave?” You froze in place and turned to face him. His red eyes looked at you with disdain, more on the terrifying side. “Come here,” your heart did a backflip when you heard that command.

More than an order, it ended up being a warning. He pulled you by the white apron to capture you in his four strong arms. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. Your body began to sweat from nerves. You didn't know what his intention was with you. You had never been with a man like this before, let alone a tyrant twice your size. All worry disappeared from your mind as he began to stroke your body slowly, taking care not to scratch you with his long black claws.

Slowly, you could feel on your back as his majesty fell asleep. Sukuna did not snore as you thought he would. He let out a fainter, quieter sound, it was almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms around your waist and shoulders, his heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. “His majesty's orders,” you thought so you wouldn't feel so guilty about falling asleep.

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jhdyuiee · 8 months ago

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Late Sesh

*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛ pairing: IDOL!taeyong x PRODUCER!Y/N

: ̗̀➛ warnings/tags: smut!, dirty talk, co-workers, name-calling (baby & slut), protected sex, semi public sex (studio sex), fingering, breast play, secret relationship, friends w/ benefits

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1k

: ̗̀➛ a.n: hii again! this is the 2nd fic i’m releasing today 😆, i hope yall enjoy this short one since i did enjoy coming up with the story! anyways i will release more in the future before i go back to school, i promise !! anyhow i hope u enjoyed yutas & taeyongs stories, thank uu to u all who read n enjoyed it i rlly appreciate it!! i love u all && see u next time, jiji out 🤍 [link to yuta’s story: YUTA.]

ೃ༄

It was already past 12 in the morning when I sat here in my studio waiting for him to arrive.

The infamous Lee Taeyong.

It was scheduled for us to record the last B-Side off his 2nd Mini Album. Taeyong actually was the one to suggest we record late “to better set the mood.”

I had no problem with it actually, in fact I enjoyed late-night recording sessions. As the minutes passed there was still no sign of him and just when I was about to call him, there was a knock on my studio door.

I got up, opening it. Speak of the devil.

“You’re late,” I reminded the male as he plopped down on the couch I had in my studio.

“I stopped by the bathroom,” he shrugged.

“Just get inside,” I replied, handing him the lyric sheet to 404 Loading.

He took it, pecking my cheek before stepping inside. My face felt hot, probably even visibly redder than a tomato. ‘He’s too flirty.’

A couple hours later we wrapped up, and he decided on a “celebration.” So here I am in my recording studio straddling his lap and our lips colliding with each other. His hands traveled my body, and mine stayed placed on his nape.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt his hands grope my ass, causing me to start grinding on his semi-hard cock. His hands then traveled to my hips, urging me to grind harder against him. The sensation of his hard cock on my now sensitive clit made everything unbearable. It felt like I would just cum from dry-humping the male.

“Take off your shorts,” he whispered. I got up from his lap and shimmied out of my shorts, leaving me in nothing but my lace thong which was now soaked. Taeyong pulled me by the string, sitting me back on his lap. I faced the other way, his breath on my neck and his hands cupping my sex.

“Wet all for me,” he whispered into my ear again.

His hand then went under my underwear, teasing my clit and my slit. He played with them for a while until I kept squirming at his touch. “Yo-your fingers, pl-please,” I pleaded.

Taeyong scoffed lowly, before plunging in two of his fingers inside my cunt. He kept a steady pace, slowly increasing it the louder I got. “Don’t hold back, let me hear how good I make you feel,” he said, kissing my cheek.

His fingers went in and out of me, while his mouth worked it’s way on my neck, and his thumb worked it’s way on my clit. His thumb teased, circled, and pinched my clit. I was growing overstimulated from everything. He was everywhere. I loved it.

“Cumming already? Cum for me, cum on my fingers baby.”

His words triggered the knot inside my stomach undone, like a command with no hesitation of abiding by. He took his fingers out, licking them clean inside his mouth as he looked down at me. I was already a mess and we haven’t even gotten too far yet.

“Shirt off. Everything off,” he said, tugging at the material on my top.

I took it off along with my bra and underwear. I stood naked in front of him. I saw as he licked his lips, eyeing me like his next meal.

“Your body’s perfect, so fucking beautiful,” Taeyong said, as he took one breast in his hand. His other hand followed along until both hands fondled and played with my breast. Slowly then he brought me closer, and was back on his lap.

He took his hands off my breasts, his mouth soon replaced them. I watched as his mouth sucked on patches of my skin and his tongue swirled and flicked my nipples until they were hard. He let go with a pop, taking off his shirt. “Get up for a bit, I’m gonna grab a condom.”

I stood up, sitting down next to where he was and watched as he grabbed a condom from the “secret drawer” he made in my studio. He brought his sweats and boxers down, until his hard aching cock stood proudly against him.

Taeyong slid the condom down, and walked back to the couch where I waited. “Come sit on it,” he said, grabbing onto my hips. He guided me down on his cock, as it stretched my insides out. I know we’ve done this multiple times before, but I still can’t get used to his size. I moaned out his name repeatedly the more he went inside, and once it was all in he whispered into my ear. “Ready?” I nodded.

He started thrusting into me, and I soon joined in when his thrusts got faster. I bounced on him, feeling as he reached deep inside me. “Look at you, you’re doing so well.” There he goes, his praises. His praises have always turned me on even more, pushed me a little bit more.

“I lo-love it!” I yelped when he suddenly grabbed my hips and thrusted me even more.

“You feel so fucking good, so warm, so tight, so wet.”

Yes.

“You love it when I praise you, don’t you? Makes you clench around me.”

Yes.

“Fuck. Hold it in baby, wait until I’m ready to come, okay.”

“Yes, I-I will wait,” I whimpered.

“I wonder if someone will come in, and see how much of a slut you are,” he teased.

I turned to the door and saw it was unlocked, shit. Taeyong then suddenly grabbed my jaw, making me face him again. “Eyes on me slut.”

“Sorry,” I said softly.

He thrusted into me even more, the pace increasing. Taeyong’s hand then went down into my clit, playing with it. He edged me even more. “Pl-Please let me cum already,” I said with watery eyes.

Taeyong smiled, kissing my lips. “Cum with me baby.”

One brutal thrust and we both came crashing down. My head went back, my vision whitened. I heard as Taeyong groaned, his breaths trying to calm down.

“Stay here, I’ll go get something to clean you up,” Taeyong said, as he detached himself from me and laid me on the couch. I watched as he discarded the condom and left the door.

My eyes wandered to the ceiling, then closing. ‘I really just fucked Taeyong in my studio couch’ I thought. ‘Now I can’t look at it the same way any more.’ I sighed, then giggled. I waited here for his return.

For his love.

ೃ༄

24.03.26

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jocelynscrazyideas · 5 months ago

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dancing in the dark | Jack Hughes x Reader

Inspired by the song dancing in the dark by rhianna

~ memories ~

Summary: jhughes and y/n spend time together at the Michigan home when the rain cuts the power out.

Warnings: language, rain, power outages, drunk, strictly only kisses!

a/n: I met this guy, he def doesn’t like me, but I’m so delulu to the point I think I can change his mind.

💬: smut/nico of Luca Fantilli fic? Maybe an F1 blurb?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jacks shoulder has finally healed. I’ve been having to take care of him for the last week. Quinn and Luke have been out at concerts and Jack and I have been tagging along- but from a walking distance.

The two have been running around like little toddlers, often Jack has chosen to sit around or walk behind them and admire the fun.

The brothers had attended the Zach Bryan concert a few nights ago but I chose to stay home. I love ZB, but hearing people scream at 12:30 am, isn’t my thing.

Rain storms are common in Michigan, and since summer is finally here rain is expected. With my extra free time taht isn’t taken up from jack’s shoulder I have been cleaning.

Deep cleaning is my new favorite hobby. My room is spotless, and Jack’s room is de-cluttered. I’ve known the Hughes since Quinn and I were seven. I’m four days older than Quinn. I use rank everytime the brothers get in arguments, I use my wisdom of a few days to break up the fights they could get into.

~ memory pt.1 ~

About 15 years ago we were at the Toronto home during the summer. I flew up to Canada to spend time with the Hughes, I brought presents for them- being I missed Christmas and all of their birthdays. “Look at the water guns!” Luke screams at me. I drop the water guns and hug Luke.

Luke’s five year old body wraps around me and I find myself laughing. Quinn and I are matching at the age of nine, and Jack was around seven.

Jack picked up a big box that I filled with gift cards, a new mini stick, and a huge water blaster. He opened the box enough to see all of the prizes and he shuts it and sets it down. He hugs my shoulders as he towers over Luke’s body from under me.

Quinn takes me from behind, I remember feeling the warmth of the three boys. I’ve really known them forever, my mom is bestfriends with Ellen, so I’ve just naturally been born into the family.

I felt safe. Ensured and promised a warm, clean and welcoming home with the Hughes.

Quinn opens a box, it’s filled with cards and water guns, there are multiple water balloons. I purposely remember buying that bag full of balloons thinking in Quinn.

~ end of pt.1 ~

“Y/n! How you’ve been?” Jack walks into my room drunk. It’s summer I let him drink his body away.

“Nice beer belly.” I mock him as I get off of my bed and rub the tummy as if I were pregnant.

“Thanks, worked hard for it tonight.” He slurs out. “Jack let’s get you to bed okay?” Rain stars to put onto the house.

I have a balcony in my room. I immediately run over to the glass sliding door to close it. Rain gets in my face as I close the windows and the door in my room. “Nice rain.” Jack mocks me as he walks out of my room.

“Where’s the other two?” I yell out from the top of the stairs, Jack runs into the kitchen- he had ran down the stairs to stop talking to me.

“Jack!” I yell. I give up. So I close my door and run down the stairs. I see Jack in the fridge.

“You hungry? Where is Ellen?” I ask. “I dunno.” I responds. I hold his shoulders as I stand on my tip toes, in peering over his shoulders just enough to see what he’s looking for.

“Yummy in my tummy!” He chants, “Jack.” I massage his shoulders.

I strictly turn his head towards mine. He leans into my chest. He rests his head onto my collar bones as he mumbles a song.

“Come.” I motion his body. We walk to the stairs. I sit him in the first step and I run back to close the fridge and the pantry door he probably rummaged through.

I turn around to look for Jack and he’s disappeared. “Jack?” I look around for him. Lights go off. Thunder claps at me, lighting floods into the sky. “Jack?” I get more nervous.

~ memory pt.2 ~

We head for the hose, I fill up Luke’s nerf water gun and te water balloons. I take my shoes off to run freely around the backyard of the Hughes household. Jim is grilling on the deck outside. Ellen and my mom are talking in the kitchen inside watching us play. Quinn fills his gun up, and I take my gun I already filled from behind my back.

I shoot jack in the eye, Luke and I team up in the other two boys. Their backs facing us as they both re-fill their guns, Luke fires at them. Someone gets hurt.

Ugh.

“Hey!” I yell out over their arguments towards eachother. Quinn yells at them to listen to me. Jim looks over at us to make sure us says something smart and not stupid.

“It’s an accident! Luke and I took our chances, Jack if you’re going to get mad at Luke- you should get mad at me too. I told him to fire.”

And done. Problem solved.

~ end of pt.2 ~

I left my phone upstairs in my room. I don’t have a flashlight. “JACK!” I scream, I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black. I have no sense of human presence in the room. “Jack please, I’m scared.” I whisper as I walk silent towards the living room. I sit on the couch that faces away from the kitchen. The TV glimmers on. “What the fuck.” I whisper.

“Hey.” Jack taps my shoulder. I jump.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.” I yell at him. Jack laughs. “You wnat some?” He picks up a bottle of alcohol. “Where…” I start. I look over at the pantry I had closed.

The TV light shines and lights up the main floor of the home. Michigan storms terrify me.

The pantry door is open. The Hughes are rich, inside of the pantry full of snacks is a room full of liquor. “How were you so quiet?” I asked Jack.

“I dunno.” He takes his hand and places it onto my hip. He pulls me back to lay down with him. I ask him to dance. Drunk dancing is always the best. “Sure.” He gets up takes my hand and we slow dance to sound of rain.

“Do you have your phone?” I ask him. Jacks hair flips into my face as he looks down into his back pocket of his jeans. He takes it out and plays a random song.

Perfect.

He jump up and down. Side to side swaying, hips are shaking, Jack screams the songs out. He hugs me to stabilize himself. He smells of heavy cologne and beer.

We dance until his legs give out. “I’m tired” he says.

I help jack up the stairs as I hold onto the bottle of liquor he had taken. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk.” I laugh. As we rest into my bed. “You can sleep in here for tonight okay?” Jack lays on my chest.

I would have gotten weirded out in how close we’ve gotten- especially because Jack and I have had something before, but my mom instincts had came out. I let him lay on me until he almost fell asleep.

I hold him onto of me so he doesn’t fall off my queen sized bed. I slide out under him, i take his shoes off and his hat off. I set them off into a bean bag I’ve had since we were kids. I’ve had this room for years, and I’ve kept it the same.

“I’m not drunk!” He giggles out again. His smile makes my stomach tingle. He keeps himself awake by talking to me.

We had a deep conversation, and he laughed out. “I’m not drunk y/n! We should check!” He laughs.

He holds my jawline. Connecting our lips together. He kisses me as if we were still in our relationship in 2017.

“I love you.” Jack laughs out after pulling away from our kiss.

Quinn walks into the house. “Y/n! Luke and i are home! Where is Jack his shoes aren’t down here!” Quinn yells out from downstairs.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes #jack rowden hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x y/n #rain dance #njd #nj devils #jack hughes fluff

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victoria-daydreams · 6 months ago

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The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

#black!reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #tashi duncan x reader #black!oc #challengers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig

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mcytblraufest · 8 months ago

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MCYTBLR AU Fest: General Rules and FAQ

TIMELINE:

May 4: Discord opens at 0:00, Artist creation starts. May 30-31: Artists with a finished piece of Art can sign up, submitting their work for claims. May 31: Artist creation period ends at midnight. June 2-4: Writers can claim art and be assigned to Teams. June 6-7: Writers who wish to be assigned a Beta Reader can sign up (this is optional) June 9-10: Beta Writers can claim writers/art and be assigned to Teams June 29-30: Check-in #1 July 13-14: Check-in #2 July 26: Writer creation period ends at midnight. Unless you have an extension, you must be fully ready to post at this point. July 27: Posting period begins at 0:00 August 2: Extension period ends. Unless you are a pinch hitter, you must be fully ready to post at this point. August 9: Posting Period ends. All work must be completely posted by midnight.

ABOUT:

MCYTBLR AU Fest is a mini reverse-big-bang event where artists and writers work together in teams to make stories and art inspired by MCYT and set in an Alternate Universe.

EXPECTATION:

Artists must make a completed Art piece. Writers must deliver a story of at least 5k words, inspired by the art they signed up for. Dark or triggering topics or themes must be tagged for.

RULES:

You must be a member of the discord, for team matching.

Because of Tumblr, Ao3 and Discord TOS, you must be 13 to participate.

Respect your fellow participants, even when you disagree on fandom matters

You agree to work together with your teammate(s) to make a piece of art and a fic together, and link to each other's works.

All works must be MCYT-centric and set in an AU— no canon-compliance.

No AI-Generated content.

LINKS:

Discord: Here Ao3 Collection: Here

FAQ:

What is MCYTBLR AU Fest? MCYTBLR AU Fest is a reverse minibang-type event where writers and artists come together to create fanworks centred on MCYT and set in an alternate universe from canon.

How does it work? Artists will have a month to complete an art piece. After a month, once the art is complete, they will submit the art, with information about server, characters, relationships, and any warnings they are opting into, which will be posted anonymously for writers to view and claim, first-come-first-serve. Teams are assigned by mods, and then writers will have two months of creation time to make a pice inspired by the work (minimum 5k words).

What type of MCYT is included? We welcome creations based on any SMP, whether or not they have a canon tag on Ao3. Mianite, DSMP, QSMP, Hermitcraft, 3rd Life, Lifesteal, Witchcraft SMP— it’s all welcome.

Can I join if my Art is a Game/Web Weave? We welcome all types of art— web weave, game, traditional art, original songs, videos, etc. While the list is not exhaustive, we have outlined some of the baseline expectations for an art piece below.

What are the requirements for art? It is difficult to define precise expectations for art pieces, especially given the broad realm of things that could count as art. We are primarily looking for art that is complete to a level that you would normally post as "finished", ready to inspire a fic piece of 5k or more, containing an audio or visual component beyond the confines of the written word, that does not take more than an hour to consume. While you will have the opportunity to include your understanding of the world in things such as if the relationships depicted are romantic or not, the art piece must stand alone without explanatory text or extra worldbuilding.

The defined requirements for different forms of art are:

Digital or Traditional art: one piece, completed to whatever you would normally post as "finished", ready to inspire a fanfic.

Web Weaves: a web weave of at least ten elements, original or properly credited.

Video/animatic: a video at least 30 seconds long.

Other Art Form: other art forms such as fan games or original songs would fall under this category. If you wanted to sign up with an Other art form, you need to contact the mod team and work out what minimum expectations would be for your art.

Is shipping allowed? Yes. Because there is no broad fandom-wide consensus about how Creator boundaries are to be enforced in specific cases (whether it's okay to write beeduo as /r or /p is an obvious one, or whether it’s permitted to ship Joel Smallishbeans) or between specific fandoms (Lifesteal approach to shipping and boundaries is different from HBG is different from DSMP), the mods will not be policing any specific understanding of boundaries across the event. The event's motivating ethos is Don't Like Don't Read, in that artists will be able to specify for themselves if a given relationship is to be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and writers will choose to opt into that, and NSFW will have to be specifically opted into on both sides.

Is NSFW allowed? Yes. NSFW works are allowed, but must be opted into, both in terms of viewing art and in terms of creating fic. No one under 18 is permitted to opt into NSFW and attempts to do so will be grounds for a ban from this event and anywhere else the mod team touches. For the comfort of the greatest number of participants, and to conform with Tumblr TOS, anything with the tags Underage or Incest will not be permitted to be part of the event.

Are major archive warnings (noncon/graphic depictions of violence/MCD) allowed? Aside from the content rules governing NSFW (no underage or incest, for the comfort of the greatest number of participants), major archive warnings are allowed. Depictions of real life horrors such as genocide and slavery are not-uncommon motifs in MCYT fics, and the mod team is not interested in legislating which types of horrors, griefs or abuses are inherently worse than others and are therefore off-limits. Because holding writing to a quality standard or saying only survivors can write atrocities is unworkable from a moderation standpoint, the three mentioned major archive warnings (MCD, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Noncon), are permitted to be included.

However, Major Archive Warnings must be explicitly opted into by the artist, and writers are free to not include Major Archive Warnings that their artist has permitted. Delivering un-asked for major archive warnings is grounds for a ban from this event. The mod team reserves the right to warn other mod teams on both the MCYT and Multi-fandom side about your bad behaviour.

What kind of an information will I provide as an Artist? How long or detailed? Artists will be able to specify

the server their art takes place on

the characters in the work

whether the relationships in the work are romantic, platonic, or could be interpreted either way

if they are okay with NSFW work

what age group of people they are okay working with

the type of AU it is

any content warnings present in the work already (i.e. gore, eyestrain, child death)

if the work is nsfw

any major archive warnings they are okay with happening in the story

common fandom themes and/or triggering content that they are okay with happening in the story.

A DNW

What sort of fandom themes will I specify? While this will not be an exhaustive list of every possible triggering concept, the mods want artists to be able to specify if they are okay with dynamics that circulate in the fandom that may be triggering or people simply may have strong opinions on, and for writers to be able to sort by that. Some of the themes include domestic abuse, alcoholism, family dynamics, pregnancy, dubcon, torture, body horror, dehumanization, child death, non-consensual touching, drugging, etc.

What is a DNW?

Artists will have the opportunity to fill out a DNW, which stands for Do Not Want. This is anything that has the potential to ruin a fic for you, and is where you opt out of content that would trigger, squick, or just render the gift unreadable for you. DNWs must be phrased politely, (so no "No foster aus because they suck and you suck if you like them"), and they must be reasonable, (so no "no blood/injury" if the art depicted shows injury, and no attempting to box someone into a specific gift beyond what is depicted in the art, so no "dnw anything that isn't a modern au where scar is a theatre teacher and grian is a biology teacher and they live in a city named hermitopia and grian has a situationship with mumbo and scarian has a rivalry at a coffee shop for the half-price muffins and jellie has psychic powers she's manipulating the muffin market with" if that is not clear from the art), and they must be specific and clear, (so no “no triggering content"), but they can be as petty (disliking 1st person) or as broad-reaching (no modern aus, no specific ships not depicted, no crossovers with specific servers or fics) as you like. Deliberately breaking someone's DNW is grounds for a ban from the exchange.

Is Dark/Violent content allowed? As long as it is something that the artist has not opted out of, yes. For many of us, the source material that originally drew us to the fandom includes major character death, torture, murder-for-hire, death games, public executions, child death and more. The fanfiction that arose from the source material follows in that trend. We will allow dark content to be part of the event, but it must be tagged for.

We also ask that participants use best judgement in delivering commonly triggering topics un-asked for. We reserve the right to ban people at mod's discretion for delivering unrequested triggering content, under the "do not be an asshole" rule.

Moreover, if your fic is rated E for any reason, (including violence or gore) your entire team must be 18+.

How can I get involved? You can participate in this event as a:

Author

Artist

Pinch Hitter

Beta Reader

You can even sign up for multiple roles, as long as you’re very sure you can make your deadlines!

What is a Pinch Hitter? A pinch hitter is a person who saves the day and steps in when the original creator is unable to deliver their work for whatever reason, making a new work on an accelerated timeline. You must reach the minimum word count of 5k. .

When do I have to join the discord? You have the option to join the dicord and hang out as soon as creation starts on May 4, and if you are an artist, you must join before sign-ups close on May 31. If you are a writer, you must join the discord before claims begin on June 1st. If you are a Beta Reader, we'd ask that you join before claims begin on June 9th.

How does team assignment/claims work? We will release a document with all the art pieces linked in it, and 24 hours afterwards we will release a sign-up form. Writers will be expected to list out out a top-five of artists they want to work with, and mods will match writers with art on a first-come-first-served basis.

How does Beta Reader assignment work? Shortly after writer sign-ups end, writers who wish to sign up for Beta Readers will be able to do so. In a similar way to how writers claimed art, beta readers will be given a list of summaries and then, 24 hours later, will be able to submit a short list of fics they want to help work on. Beta readers will be assigned on a first-come, first-served basis.

What happens if there are more artists than authors, or more authors than artists? If there are more writers, some artists will be assigned multiple writers. If there are more artists, we will put in place a question where writers can specify that they’d be willing to make multiple pieces, and a (hopefully small) number of writers would be assigned multiple teams.

What if all the artists I list have already been assigned? If every artist you wish to opt into has already been assigned, mods will contact you and ask if you wish to be matched to people who have not yet been claimed. You will then be able to choose if you wish to claim other teams, or wait and hope that there will be more writers than artists, and multiple writers on a team will be opened up. If that happens, you can re-submit your list and be assigned as a writer to one of your original artists.

I’m in [insert time zone here]. What if I’m not awake when claims open? There will be a spot to input your time zone in the discord. Mods will try to open the claims at a time that works for as many writers as possible. The art pieces will also be available for 24 hours before claims so that everyone can view them and pick out the ones that are the most interesting to them. We will aim for claims to open between 7 a.m. and 1 a.m. for as many writers as possible across all time zones. If claims fall outside that zone for you, you’ll be able to contact a mod and we’ll work out an alternative method for claims for you.

I don’t know what time zone I’m in? Go to timeanddate.com and enter the nearest major city, and it will tell you your current time zone.

What’s a check-in and how do they work? Check-ins are there to make sure everyone is on track to finish their piece in time, and to communicate any issues with the mods! If you know that you won’t be able to check in on a specific date (lack of internet, etc), please contact the mods in advance.

How long should my fic be? The minimum word count is 5,000 words! There is no maximum word count, but we ask you to be mindful of how much you can actually create in these two months.

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kedsandtubesocks · 6 months ago

Text

part of your world

Javier Peña x Mermaid!Reader

summary: you know the surface is dangerous, but how dangerous can it be with a man this gorgeous

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Post Narcos Season 3, one brief threat of drowning, magic & fantasy, mermaid lore, light gendered language, soft!Javi, protective!Javi, major pinning & yearning, light angst, Javi and his use of nicknames, instance of violence/gun usage with blood & severe injury, heavy implied smut with spicy/soft moments

word count: 9.9k (i’m sorry)

a/n: our first fic of our mini mer-may series! this is my love letter to all of us who played mermaids in the pool & dreamed of a handsome prince waiting for us, I couldn’t have done this without @perotovar @burntheedges @saradika & @tuquoquebrute cheering me on… I can’t thank you babes enough! And to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

The storm approaches fast, looms in the air with a brewing quiet spark you can feel on your skin.

Yet the men in the boat continue to unpack, getting ready to sail.

You’ve been watching them since they arrived here earlier today. This part of the pier is your favorite to watch surface dwellers in the protection of the waves and the shadows.

It’s a quiet season this time around the Gulf. You’re even surprised the men are even out here. Two seem youthful, playfully kidding with each other. Most of them seem older, wear their age lines beautifully with smiles and laughter.

It’s why you love watching the land dwellers so much. The beauty of embracing their age among a turbulent world is admirable.

Or maybe you just enjoy watching these humans because one has caught your attention.

Older yet still young, a weariness floats around this man. He moves around with confidence on the boat and is incredibly beautiful. His deep dark eyes remind you of the earth’s soil. With a sharp jaw, nice facial hair and handsome nose - he’s unlike any human you’ve ever seen.

Cautiously and protectively, the man keeps an eye on one of the older land dwellers, his father possibly with how similarly they look. You admire that. He also makes sure all the fishing lines are safe and secure while the others talk with excited glee. But you ache to cry out in protest, urge them to stop because you sense what’s approaching that they might not.

“Maybe we should stay put, Pop.” Your handsome human says, and your heart jumps. Maybe he senses it too.

The man, his father, waves him off saying to not worry.

Dread fills you fast watching the ship slowly leave the port. Diving under the waves to follow, you just want to be sure they make it back.

The ocean shifts tempestuously. The boat isn’t even that far from the harbor when the storm unleashes its fury. The sea swirls in that wildness. Even among the waves you hear the screams from above.

Before you can reach the surface, someone falls into the water.

From the color of the shirt you know exactly who it is.

You swim as fast as you can to your handsome human now under the waves. Even for you, a strong swimmer, it takes a lot to fight against the surge until you have the man in your arms and swim towards the surface. Your tail thrashes strong against the current.

You keep the surface dweller pressed above you, shielding you from the eyes of the others on the boat.

The man you’ve saved coughs out the water as you try keeping him afloat while also staying hidden. Cries of joy erupt over seeing him.

The waves continue splashing against you making it harder to stay hidden. Then a loud boat horn arrives. Your eyes snap to the side.

A familiar red aid ship approaches.

Fear clutches you fast. They might see you. Then a wave rises high, and you can’t fight against the ocean’s power. It takes you and the man underneath it.

The water knocks you out a bit breathless. But you also see this as a chance to save this human then finally make an escape among the turbulent waves.

Securing him solidly in your arms, you swim back to the surface. With all your might, you guide him up to the shadow of the boat.

The yelling on the surface is loud, chaotic and frantic.

“There! There! I see him!” Someone cries. You support the man under the water, holding him up from the waves until he’s hoisted out.

While you watch him rise about, you sink below.

From the cover of the nearby rocks, you watch the rescue boats guide the main ship back to safety. Everyone scrambles to check on the man you rescued.

His father cries holding him and it’s a treasured sight. But you don’t miss the way your human’s eyes scan the water, almost frantic and confused -

Like he’s searching for something.

You try not to linger on that and instead descend back into the water.

Talk swirls about the boat saved during the storm and the man who fell overboard and survived.

You don’t want to embrace pride, but you soak in the nice satisfied truth knowing you helped.

But you’re tired, worn from the waves. You should have maybe stayed deeper under the water for the day. So after lingering around the dock, you move to a secluded spot beneath the larger pier. There’s a few sand dunes and you swim to rest halfway on one of them.

The sound of the waves soothes you. Slowly, you close your eyes.

“It’s you.” Until a human man’s voice arrives, and your eyes snap open panicked.

Off to the side along the coastline stands the man from yesterday, the handsome human.

In the sun’s glow, he’s radiant. But this is dangerous. He’s spotted you. After your wide terrified eyes lock with his, instantly you jump into the water.

You could have sworn you heard him scream out “Wait!” but you’re swimming too fast to even turn back around to check.

Even under the safety of the sea, your heart rattles wildly in your chest, erratic.

He saw you, that handsome surface dweller saw you.

There’s a warning tale that’s spread among your world.

One of your kind fell in love with a human, went to the surface and lost her heart.

She never returned, presumed to be dead. She became a haunting story told as a warning. That tale, along with many other frightful encounters, repeat over and over in your head now.

You shouldn’t have come back.

But you just had to check.

You vow this will be the first and last time.

Peeking out slowly from the water, you almost sputter out in panicked surprise.

That man sits on the shoreline. He’s waiting.

He’s alone or seems alone, and even brought a full pack of items.

His lovely deep eyes continue scanning the waves.

Is he looking for you?

He has to be. But are his intentions pure is the true question.

Staring at him this long becomes your downfall. His rich soil eyes catch you. Immediately the man bolts up, and you drop just below the surface.

“I saw you!”

Just barely below the waves, you can hear his voice a bit waterlogged.

“Please. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He urges.

You don’t know if you can trust him.

But wanting to make sure, you pop your head up just a bit. His eyes are gems, precious dark gems shimmering bright and vibrant when he sees you. You ache to swim closer.

“You’re real.” He exhales out.

You simply stare at him.

“Can you understand me?” He asks a bit slowly.

Deciding to be braver, you rise up more from the water.

“Maybe.” You answer then watch as the man stumbles back stunned.

“You…you can talk.” He stammers.

You decide to be coy and simply shrug.

“What are you?” The man presses.

That’s the line. You’ve already done too much. You shouldn’t have come at all.

“Javi! Javier? Hey, primo, where d’ya go?” Someone calls and the surface dweller turns.

That’s his name.

Javier.

It’s perfect.

But someone else approaches, and it’s enough to terrify you. Sinking back into the water, you linger again just below.

You hear the man, Javier, cry out another loud “wait!”

More voices come and tease Javier.

“Mijo survived the sea and now can’t get enough of it.” Someone teases goodnaturedly.

Soon all the voices announce they’re heading back.

“Uh, give me a few. I’ll head back in a minute.” Javier replies.

The voices leave, but you still refuse to rise above.

“I hope you’re still here.” He says. Fear clutches at you wondering if you’re visible from the surface.

“Or fuck, maybe I just hope you are.” Javier sighs.

Then a moment passes.

“I just… just wanted to say thank you.” His voice even under the water is sincere, deeply earnest.

You’ve never once thought you would ever hear a human thank you and so sincerely. Before you can stop yourself, you rise up fast out of the water. But he’s gone.

The next morning you swim to that same spot.

Your throat feels tight when you already see him walking down the beach as well. And once you and him spot each other it feels like the world melts a bit.

This time you also swim and stay a little closer to the shore line.

“You came back.” Javier mutters in disbelief.

“So did you.” You reply back.

This is the most you’ve ever spoken with a land dweller.

“Thank you.” Javier breathes out. “For saving my life.”

You nod.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask, knowing humans have an unfortunate condition of experiencing a delayed drowning within their lungs.

“Oh yeah, I’m good.” Javier nods. “Apparently the medics and coast guards still can’t understand how I managed to make it out pretty good but…”

His eyes twinkle looking at you, and a prickly like sensation sparks across your skin

“I thought I was seeing shit when I saw you.” He mutters. “You looked like something out of a dream.”

The waves keep you afloat, but you feel weak.

You even softly smile back to him.

“It’s understandable. Most of your kind think we’re manatees afterall.” You tell him and Javi’s eyebrows shoot up.

“So you really are a mermaid?” Javier blurts out.

You never fully understood where that name came from. You simply shrug a bit playful and enjoy the amused snort of a sound Javier gives.

“Well, whatever you are, I owe you my fucking life.” He exhales, and again his words dig deep into the core of your being.

The tiniest smile tugs at your lips.

“So do you just hang around and what, save unfortunate guys like me that go overboard?” Javi asks moving to sit on the sand.

He wants to stay and talk with you. You swim just a bit closer.

You shake your head no, unfortunately telling him you often stay hidden.

“We’re not meant to communicate with others on land, much less be seen by them.” This is already one of the worst offenses.

But you’re too far gone, and you know that.

His beautiful face scrunches up. “So then why did you save me if you aren’t supposed to?”

You couldn’t reveal it’s because of how you were immediately drawn to him. Instead your heart speaks faster as you shrug.

“I can’t really tell you why, I just knew I had to. I could sense the storm coming and just…I happened to be at the right place at the right time I guess.”

You knew how foolish surface dwellers could be. Yet, there was something weathered but compassionate about Javier.

His face flickers while his mouth drops. You don’t know if you’ve said something wrong.

Then a bashful half grin tugs at Javier’s soft lips, and your heart feels light like the sunbeams on the waves.

“I’m Javier.” He blurts out, and you grin.

“Javi.” You repeat the nickname you heard used for him.

A surprised twinkle flashing in his eyes colors him youthful, and he smiles bright.

“Yeah,” He nods. “So what’s your name? Can I at least know that?”

This is a point of no return, and you’re already this far.

So among the warm waves, you give your name to him freely.

The way his face lights up hearing it is incredible. Then hearing him repeat your name back, breathing it from his lips, feels sacred.

Everyday after that you meet him at this same spot either early in the warm morning or in the soft evening breeze when he’s done with his day. You learn he’s staying here with his father for a month to visit family.

“My Tío,” he explains. “He’s been needing some help around his place. So my dad and I decided to just enjoy some time out here.”

It means your time with him is limited, precious, a pearl you just found from an oyster that you want to hoard now.

As curious as you are about him, it’s no surprise Javier is just as eager to ask questions.

“Do you have a uh…family I guess nearby?”

“No.” You answer him truthfully, wistfully. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”

It’s been many moon cycles since you left home.

“Wait, why?” Javier’s face frowns as the sea breeze tussles his hair. Your fingers ache to already brush it aside.

“They were going to force me to marry another of my kind, someone I didn’t care for. And I couldn’t handle it. So I left.” You simply tell him the truth.

You wanted a choice, that’s all. But your family refused to allow you that.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” His voice, gentle and kind, feels like a warm morning glow.

“Must be lonely out here.” He adds a bit sorrowful, almost aching.

Your eyes can’t handle how soft, how piercing his gaze bores into yours. So you glance to the ocean now. The sun reflects like glass onto the waves. When you first started visiting the surface, you reasoned it was to understand land dwellers more. However, in your heart you know it’s because of the loneliness.

Laughter, vibrant music, the smell of delicious food, the ache of belonging, it all swirls from the shoreline almost beckoning to you.

“Sometimes,” you finally answer Javier. “But it’s alright. The sea provides.”

The saying you were raised with still rings out true.

The sea brought you here and brought you to him.

And it’s something special.

During an early morning, Javier approaches the water this time. Normally he stays on the shoreline. You’ve been the one creeping closer and closer through the water towards him.

Now you’re stunned.

He’s bare chested and wears swimming shorts you’ve seen other surface dwellers wear among the waves. But it’s the amount of skin you’re seeing, the broadness of his shoulders and small pudge of his tummy, your mouth feels dry.

“Thought I’d maybe get in the water this time.” He says bashfully, but with confidence he walks into the waves.

He’s brave. You thought after falling into the sea, he would hesitate to return. Yet he moves with a confident grace.

“You’re brave.” You even tell him, not hiding your admiration.

He barks an amused laugh.

“Yeah well, seen worse things than the water.” Javier says a bit darkly.

That perks up your curiosity.

Soon enough Javier steps closer, until he abruptly freezes.

“Is this okay?” This considerate man, he’s asking if you’re alright with him getting closer.

You nod, instead find yourself swimming out a bit further, deeper, into the ocean.

And Javier follows.

Now to any bystander on the beach it’s like you’re another land dweller among the waves floating with him.

Yet the call of the sea, your nature and upbringing, slowly seeps in. You begin swimming around the man. It’s a trait to circle around something you desire and want to keep within your eye watch.

It’s a dance. While you move slowly swimming around him, his eyes never leave yours. That is until a wave jostles you both. It pushes you closer, almost colliding into Javier until his warm hands steady your shoulders. He’s touching you.

Among the splash of the water, being so close to him, your tail flutters accidentally brushing against him.

“So it was a tail.” He mutters like he’s trying to believe it.

While his eyes stare down at the water, yours stay focused on him.

Self conscious, worried and nervous, you try swinging your tail out of his sight.

“Es hermosa.” Javier adds.

You’ve picked up many dialects here among the coastline. He’s calling your tail, you, beautiful.

You can’t handle how badly your soul now seems to ache for this man and how your heart races wild. So with the waves settled you quickly move back to swimming around him.

Feeling giddy, you playfully move your hand against the water splashing him. Javier blinks of his trance, sputtering when the salty sea water hits him.

“That’s not nice.” He scoffs then moves to splash you back stronger.

It becomes a childish competition of splashing each other until seaweed unknowingly curls around Javier making him react in horror and you laugh. In playful retribution, he throws the seaweed at you.

“Be careful, I’ll send dolphins after you.” You tease, and his eyes go wide.

“Can you talk to sea creatures?!” He asks excitedly.

You laugh even harder, shaking your head no. Javier narrows his eyes, slightly suspicious. Playfully he splashes you again. Laughter escapes you buoyant.

“Javi!” Until someone yells out from the shoreline, and your heart drops.

Snapping your eyes to the shore, there’s a few men waiting, staring out.

Panic swarms in you. Your body jolts to move, until Javier’s arm gently moves to hold you steady.

“Don’t leave. It’ll make it more obvious.” Javi whispers under his breath. “Just relax, stay calm.”

“What’s a pretty thing like her doing with a pendejo like you?!” One of the young guys yells out with a joking laugh.

Your heart races petrified. The waves keep you concealed, but having this much attention and being raw in the open feels too much.

“Fuck off Richie.” Javi scoffs back in a yell.

“Dumbass fucking friend of my cousin.” He explains to you with a gruff mutter.

Yet his hand gently drags down your arm to go to yours. His hand, so much bigger and warmer, squeezes yours.

“It’ll be okay. Don’t worry I’ll keep you safe.”

His words warm, soft and gentle on the breeze, get tangled in your heart. With a final squeeze to your hand, he swims back towards the land. When Javier reaches the shore and gives you a casual wave, you weakly smile back.

As they leave, you don’t miss the way one of the men, Richie, if you remember right, turns to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes terrify you with how piercing they stay on you.

But the minute Javi and those men fade off the shoreline, you fade into the waves.

Having the other land dwellers see you is a grim reminder of how reckless you’re being.

But you don’t want to stop.

If anything, it makes you simply want to draw Javi to you even more. The humans painted your kind as temptresses who lure people to the sea and to their death. You understand now why. There’s an unexplainable urge burning in you to draw Javier further towards you, like the pull of the tides to the shoreline.

So the next time you see him, you tell him to bring his swimwear and to save the day to be out at sea.

One of his eyebrows lifts a bit curiously. “And you’re not telling me where we’re going?”

You simply smile, toothy and wide.

The sun is kind today and with no harsh wind it’s a peaceful day among the waves. Javi, with his glorious warm sun kissed bare chest slips into the water with you and hisses.

“S’fucking cold.” He sneers, and his face crumples into a grumpy handsome pout.

“Feels fine to me.” You joke. Javi gives you a dry look that makes you grin.

The spot you take him to is further down the coastline, across the beach wall, and you’re thankful it’s not too far. It’s also a bit more secluded against the higher rocks that act like a slight barrier. The water gets shallow towards the edge of the rocks blending in towards the tide pools. It’s a comfort getting to stay in the water, yet the low tide allows Javier time to fully walk comfortably.

“Woah!” He gasps bright when his eyes fall to the tide pools.

“Holy fucking shit.” He whispers.

You simply watch him hypnotized. He points out the different creatures he spots, the way the water changes among the rocks coloring, its beautiful.

“I didn't even know this shit was here.” He mutters.

Not many do.

“That’s not all why we’re here.” You tell him warmly.

With a nudge out to the open waves, Javier and you turn just in time to see it.

A sweet dolphin, porpoises as the locals love to call them, jumps out among the waves.

Javier’s surprised gasp is beautiful.

“They always love to swim here, a lot less people.” You explain.

Now you move to slip under the water. It’s been a while since you’ve used your voice to click and make the chirps to call, but you’re thankful the dolphins hear you.

You beckon Javier to join you deeper in the water and he eagerly does. The pod swims up eagerly. Even a few jump to pop their heads up.

“You said you couldn’t speak to sea creatures!” He exclaims, and you laugh.

“I can’t! Think of it as making a noise to call for a land animal. That’s all I did.” You explain.

His gorgeous face scrunches up grumpy, almost unsatisfied, with your answer. Snickering you return your focus back to the sweet creatures swimming around.

A few of the dolphins are more playfully curious than the others and readily take in the attention you and Javi give to them. One even particularly gets jealous when Javi moves to pet another and she squeaks out in protest even pushing up against him.

His laugh is pure magic. His eyes crinkle beautifully, and you think you’re seeing one of the world’s hidden treasures.

Eventually the dolphins take their leave. Javier makes his way to a safer spot along the shoreline and after checking the area, seeing it’s still pretty vacant, you allow the waves to wash you up to the beach.

Alongside him, you lounge on the shore.

It’s the closest you’ve been to him, the most you’ve ever been on the beach itself.

Your entire scaled lower body is practically out in the open for anyone passing by to see, but you want to be this close to him. You don’t want the water to keep you seperated.

“Are there…others of your kind around here?” He asks low.

You shake your head. “Not recently. I’ve found an older abandoned cave of someone that maybe possibly lived here, but no one has emerged.”

He hums in acknowledgment.

“Do you miss them? Your family?” Javi questions quietly.

Sometimes you do miss them, and you truthfully tell him that. But you don’t want to return to your family or your people. Now he again asks about your world, about your family. So you tell him of deep glimmering underwater caverns all across the sea that house your kind. He listens with complete rapture.

“You know,” you add a bit amused. “You’ve handled learning about me and all of this really well.”

Javi snorts.

“Well…my family told me to be respectful of things we don’t understand. There might be some shit out in this world we can’t explain, and that’s okay. We don’t need to argue with it. Instead just maybe gotta learn from it.”

You can sense that in him. He never once seemed afraid of you, instead approached all his questions and curiosity with genuine understanding.

“Besides, I’ve seen crazier shit so this doesn’t really surprise me.” Javier adds with a dry but hollow snort.

That reminds you of what he said before. So you mention it gently.

“You said there are worse things on land than the water, what are they?”

Javier turns to you. His eyes dance in the brilliant sun and they look like brighten earthen soil gems. Yet there’s a wary and weary heaviness in them.

He explains about his old occupation on the surface world, about how he chased after bad men in Columbia. You nod, explaining you’ve heard of that country because of the ports.

“You know where Columbia is?” His eyes go wide.

You teasingly roll your eyes at his surprise. “I do know enough about our worlds Javier.”

He shakes his head. “You continue to surprise me, mi sirena.”

The term, sweetly affectionate, causes something in your gut to flutter.

However, all of that gets quietly put aside as Javier continues his quiet explanation of the shadows and darkness he saw.

You stay silent, letting him explain it all - the horrors of watching men fight over power and money, the corruption, the lives lost, the weight of it all showing him a grim reality that sometimes rears its evil head within humanity. Your eyes even fight back tears.

He’s seen so much, been through so much, and it all hangs on his shoulders.

Without hesitation your hand moves to rest against his. The urge to comfort him is so powerful, and you don’t want to fight it. His eyes now flutter down to your hand where his fingers gingerly begin stroking against your skin.

“Are you ever going back?” You ask softly, worried about him returning to that darkness.

“No. Never going back or doing that type of work again.” He shakes his head.

“Good.” You reply relived.

Javier smiles charmingly bashful, and it’s adorable.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He quickly recovers diverting your attention to something new. Delicately his hand reaches out to your chest and you freeze.

His hands delicately graze against your necklace.

“You wear this all the time. Is it something special?” Always so curious, your land dweller.

“Looks like one of your scales, same color and everything.” He adds.

That’s because it is, and you tell him that.

On the day you became of age, you shed one of the scales on your tail and have it blessed by the sea and moon. The legend has it that the scale is promised to hold one wish. But that was a tale told to you as a child. You simply now understand it’s a mark of passing into maturity. It’s been a constant companion for years ever since.

Javi’s eyebrows raise up in surprise.

“Do you think that legend is true?”

You shrug. “I’ve never known it to be. Always thought it was just fantasy.”

Javier snorts.

“You don’t believe in fantasy?” He questions incredulously.

Playfully you shove his shoulder, and he snickers.

Now a silence settles. The crashing waves become the only noise floating between you and him. Neither his hand or yours leaves the other.

“You said… your family wanted you to be with someone of your kind that you didn’t like…” he now begins cautiously breaking the silence.

“So did that mean there was someone else you cared for?” Javi suggests.

You snort a bit playful, yet answer a quiet no.

“There was a land dweller I had been curious about, but it was just a simple passing fling.” You admit.

“Oh.” Javier answers, but his voice deflates enough you even catch it.

He’s annoyed with that answer.

You’ve been infatuated with other land dwellers before, but it was like seeing the stars above. You admired their beauty from afar and that’s all.

Javier feels like a precious gem discovered from a sunken ship, a treasure you want to keep forever and cherish. He feels rare, so good and in your grasp almost too precious to hoard. Or maybe you just aren’t worthy of him.

You move to hold his hand better.

So you tell him. You’ve never let anyone get this close, never even once spoken to another human.

Yet here you are.

“There’s no one like you. I don't think there will be anyone else like you.” You admit before you can stop the words.

But they are true. No one will ever be like Javier, a man so worn by the world yet still so kind.

His eyes again flicker to yours, and you’re trapped in his gaze. A shift sparks in the air like the way it does before a storm approaches. It tingles against your skin, and something aches in your chest.

His eyes flicker to your lips. Your body shifts closer to him caught in his warmth.

A loud blare of a boat horn comes. Pure fear crashes into you.

Without hesitation Javi practically drapes himself over you. His arms draw around your head like a shield trying to cover most of your body up with his.

His eyes and yours stare to the side worried at what approaches. But thankfully the boat now sounds like it’s reaching shore further away.

The scare felt too real. Worry rages in you wildly. Yet, it’s quickly drowned out by Javier.

He’s close. Javi’s chest is against your side, against your tail. His arms are on either side of your head and he radiates warmth, such a warmth you never knew others could hold. Maybe it’s because he’s a landweller, or you think maybe it’s just because it’s him.

This position is precious even for you. You’ve spotted humans mating on the beach before. You can even admit how curious it’s made you.

Now a raw heat burns through you. Javier sighs, then glances down at you beneath him.

The shadows dance on his face so wonderfully, highlighting his striking nose. You wonder how terribly it would be to slither your arms around him and pull him down to you. Your mouth even waters seeing the sweat on his skin, and you imagine how it must taste mixing with the salt of the water, your home.

It’s simply just you staring up at him, him staring down at you and sound of the waves.

“We…we should head back.” He says clearing his throat.

The entire swim back to the main shoreline is silent, feels like a weight hangs among you and him even when you tell him goodbye.

Later among the solitude of the night and waves, you dream of Javier. But something dangerous sneaks into your fantasies. You fantasize being entangled with him as a human, two legs wrapping around him, getting to know his body against your own. It’s fierce, knocks the wind out of you, but also unleashes a sorrowful ache into you.

You wonder what it would be like as a land dweller because a more clouded doubtful piece of you can’t imagine Javier desiring you now.

Even with the admiration you’ve heard from him, you imagine that a man’s handsome as Javier wouldn’t desire someone like you.

A splash of water hits your face, and the saltwater you notice mixes well with your silent tears.

The next morning when you arrive at your usual spot to meet Javier, a soft pink conch sits on the shoreline and your blood runs cold.

For your people, a conch shell is a way to communicate. They’re used to convey many different messages from marking territories to a warning.

You reassure yourself it simply washed up on the beach as all seashells do. But the way it sits precariously placed scares you overriding any of the anxious energy you had about seeing Javier again.

“Did you…leave this here?” You even ask him about the conch when he arrives.

“Uh, no. But it’s pretty.” He says lifting up the shell to examine it. “Funny enough my Tía collects shells like these so much that my uncle even jokes they could open up a store.”

You weakly smile trying to be amused, but the dread hangs in your stomach.

When Javier leaves, you try gathering your thoughts.

“I take it you saw my message.” The new voice is warm.

Walking down from the other side of the pier, an older woman emerges. Her eyes, wrinkled by the corners, watching you seem kind and streams of gray color her dark hair.

You want to bolt back into the water out of fear, but you’re confused and want to understand more.

“I can see your hesitation, young one.” She says. “My name is Gloria and I’ve been watching you for sometime now.”

Now you’re panicking.

This must be your punishment for growing too close to Javier.

Before you can react the woman reaches at her dress collar and pulls something out.

A necklace with a scale attached to it. Except this scale doesn’t shine with color but instead appears cold, lifeless.

The wind is knocked out of you.

“So you understand now.” Gloria smiles, however there’s a cloudy hesitation forming in her eyes.

This is your warning brought to life. She is the real woman who left the sea, went to land -

And she is alive.

There's so much you want to ask her. Everything feels so overwhelming.

“We don’t have much time to chat.” She gently tells you. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions soon, but you must know…”

A dark gloomy frown falls over her lovely aged face.

“Someone is looking for you.”

You’re a bit confused by her words.

“And I don’t mean your land dweller.” She adds and dread claws into you monstrous.

Someone else. Someone else saw you.

“Javier wouldn’t tell anyone about me.” You fire back, fierce and hurt.

“You need to lie low, stay hidden.” Gloria orders somber and serious. “Maybe even find another place to nest for some time.”

Fear grapples with something fanged inside your heart. You don’t want to leave Javier. You don’t even want to hide from him here, much less leave him.

Gloria must see the conflict on your face, and she sighs. A grandmotherly sadness washes over her.

“I’m sorry, young one.”

You swallow back the tears.

No, this is the truth. Javier was always going to leave back to his hometown eventually. Your time with him was limited, not guaranteed. This is just a reminder of that.

You shove away the tears stinging your eyes and thank Gloria for alerting you.

She grins sad but soft. “I wish you well. Please be safe.”

“Wait.” You call out to her. Even though you still have so many questions, want to ask her so many things, there is only one thing you need to ask before she leaves.

Gloria turns back with a patient look.

“Can you fall in love with a human this quickly?” You try keeping your voice level, but it breaks under the weight of your emotions.

Gloria frowns, heartbroken. Her eyes swim with an ancient understanding crystalline with sadness.

“I fell in love the instant I saw my husband,” she smiles beautifully among the ache. “He rescued me from a fisherman’s net, and I never looked back. I trusted the water and it provided.”

The familiar saying of your kind.

Your blink away tears.

“Then how can I leave him?” You croak back to Gloria.

“You need to so you can keep him and yourself safe,” she answers with the patience of a mother.

A quick desperate thought flashes in your mind. Your hand flies up to clutch the shell hanging from your necklace.

If the children’s stories were true, if you actually had one wish -

Gloria’s eyes go wide, and she inhales fast.

“You make that choice, you can never go back.” She declares sharply.

“Wait, what?” You ask a bit confused.

“You may get your wish, but it will come at a cost.” Gloria tells you dark and somber.

Dread consumes you. So her shell’s discoloration was because she used her wish.

“What’s the cost?” You sob.

“Whatever the sea wishes to take.” Gloria’s answer feels final, a raw cut through your inner most soul.

With one final sad nod, she wishes you well and leaves you alone under the shadow of the pier with your unbearable heartbreak.

“Hey, you alright?” The next morning Javier notices your demeanor.

“Yes, just a bit tired.” You smile false and small.

You don’t know how you’re going to break this to him. You wonder if you simply should just stop showing up, break it off quick and painful but fast. But even then you can’t face that possibility.

“So tonight,” Javi says, trying to brighten the mood. “We’re having this nice dinner at that restaurant further down right on the water.”

“That’s lovely.” You tell him truthfully with a warm soft grin.

His eyes soften, but you avert your gaze, unable to handle the truth barbed in your heart. Then gentle fingers suddenly trace against your face, almost too afraid to fully touch you.

Your look to find Javier’s eyes hazed over staring down at you.

“It’ll be nice to know you might be out there in the waves, mi sirena.” He mutters.

The danger is imminent. You need to leave or simply tell him what’s been going on. But that fear is overshadowed by the unbearable adoration for Javier.

You rationalize that this will be your final glimpse at Javi before you tell him the truth.

So when the night falls you swim low and quietly to the restaurant.

The lights and warmth, the upbeat musical, all radiate from the dock the restaurant sits at the edge of. You’re able to swim around the outdoor area with enough cover.

Gently peeking up from the waves you find the view is clear. A few people sit and stand outside around the edge of the railing thankfully not even glancing out to the ocean.

That’s when you spot him.

Your eyes go wide.

Dressed in a simple white button up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Javier is otherworldly.

He’s too handsome for his own good, the surface world’s handcrafted temptation for you. All you can do is sink more into the water hoping the cooling waves bring you back to reality.

He leans on the rail facing the open sea. Those dark eyes of his flicker out and now you realize, he might be searching for you.

Your body moves on its own. Tail swishing, you swim closer to his line of sight gravitating towards him.

But then a shadow of someone approaching comes and you stop. One of the men you remember vaguely appears besides Javier.

“Whatcha looking for, vato?” The young man jokes nudging Javi, but your eyes narrow seeing how annoyed Javier looks.

“Can’t I just enjoy the water, Richie?” Javi jokes.

The man, Richie, is the one you remember staring at you so intently.

“You lookin’ for your sea goddess?” He says loud, mocking.

Javier reacts fast. He snaps turns towards Richie with the quickest speed, and a hard glare transforms his face.

“Why you acting up like that, viejo?” Richie grins antagonist.

“Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, Ricardo.” Javier snaps low and serious.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Richie growls. “And you and your cousin and Tía y Tío might all think I’m crazy, but I know what I fucking saw that night you went overboard. I saw that fucking creature that saved you.”

Fear bubbles up dizzying.

Richie is the one searching for you.

You can’t move. It’s too much.

Until Javi jolts into action. He grabs Richie by the collar and a deadly darkness falls over his face.

“Enough.” Suddenly Javier’s voice drops.

Then he quickly speaks to Richie so low that even swimming just a bit closer you can’t pick up what Javi says. But it’s spoken deadly enough that when he shoves Richie away, the younger man glares at Javier silently. Then he simply walks away.

Javi defended you. He’s kept you, your secret, safe.

You can’t describe the emotion that cracks your heart open wide. From the waves you stare at him unable to look away as he sighs pinching the bridge of his lovely nose.

You ache to soothe him.

But, someone else seems to as well.

“You look like you could use some company.” A woman, gorgeous and giving Javi a soft smile, moves towards his side.

All that tender adoration dwelling in your heart turns sour when Javier turns to converse with her. He smiles politely and kind.

They lean against the wooden railing, eyes focused on each other and Javi says something to make the mystery woman laugh. His eyes crinkle, the same way they do when he smiles at something you say. Javier gives her his full attention and jealousy strikes its fangs venomous.

But the truth is worse. This is another reminder Javier was never maybe meant to ever be yours.

You jump back into the sea, unfortunately making a splash announcing your departure. But a part of you wants him to hear and know you’re leaving.

Out of habit you arrive at your secluded spot under the pier by the shoreline. Your eyes sting as you squeeze them shut refusing to let yourself cry over this. At least this will help make it easier when you bid him farewell tomorrow. You sit for a moment gathering yourself.

Footsteps rush on the sand, and you panic.

Immediately Javier jogs in from the side, out of breath and already sweaty. He must have ran all the way over here.

“Mi sirena,” he exhales heavy.

You swallow hard.

“I…I didn’t know if you saw…” Javi begins curiously.

You don’t know how to reply, dont even know if you should.

“I…” his voice starts but gets stalled as if he doesn’t know what to say either.

“It’s alright.” You reassure him, graciously thanking him for keeping your secret.

“You should get back to your companion. She’s lovely.” You tell him surprisingly composed.

“You seem upset.” He argues.

You reassure him you’re not.

“No, you’re upset. What’s wrong?” This man, annoyingly stubborn, presses.

You snap back that it's none of his concern.

“Tell me.” His voice takes a sharper turn.

“It’s nothing! Go back to your party, human!” You snap, and the word leaves your mouth sharp.

You’ve never once called him that.

His eyes go wide a bit, like he’s even a bit taken back at what you said. You blink away the tears stunned at your own emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly apologize, already furiously wiping away the tears.

He says your name soft. “You’re crying.”

His footsteps come closer and you snap your face away trying to shove more and more tears.

“What’s wrong?” Javier crouches down to sit besides you on the sand.

“I’m just upset about what I said, that’s all.” You half lie through a broken voice.

“Why won’t you just tell me the truth?” He urges concerned.

Because, you want to tell him, it’s too much to hold.

You feel like you might break.

Suddenly his warm hand gently slides across your cheek. Slowly he tilts your face towards him, and your mind stalls feeling his fingers against you.

In the night air, under the dim shadow of the pier, his eyes seem like the endless sky.

“Dígame, mi sirena.” Talk to me, he says soft and tender.

Your words fail. Instead you feel greedy, desperate. Your hand moves to clutch his hand and lean into his palm while your eyes shut.

The tears come again.

The air feels cold against your skin.

“I don’t want to let you go.” You admit, finally freeing that truth.

“I’m not going anywhere, honey.” Javier softly replies firmly.

That term, you’ve heard it used by other surface dwellers, and you want to sink your teeth into it.

Wearily your eyes open to stare at him once more. Now his eyes seem hazed over and his lips parted open. His lips look so soft while his eyes swim cautiously. You’re worried any moment now he might turn into seafoam before your eyes.

In a blink, Javi surges towards you. Like a fast rip of a wave crashing into you, his lips press to yours.

You’ve never kissed a land dweller. You’ve imagined it a few times, especially now more with Javi in mind. But none of those fantasies do this justice.

He’s so warm, intoxicating like the most dangerous ambrosia. You whimper when his body slides you closer to him. Your hands claw at him more.

You need him closer, want him intertwined with you

Eventually you lean back, until your body rests against the sand, and Javier kisses at you from above. His tongue seeks and licks into you with a melting consuming heat. You moan into his mouth feeling dizzy at how delicious he tastes.

He breaks away first needing air but kisses your jaw, nipping at your skin.

“Wait.” Javi exhales and slowly draws back. Even among the brewing heat, the passion burning through your veins, his eyes are hesitant.

“You okay with this, mi sirena?” He asks, gentle and steady.

This unreal wonderful man. Your hand cups his cheek now letting your thumb stroke against his warm skin.

“It’s you. It’s only ever going to be you.” You whisper.

His eyes widen, letting your words sink in and then he turns to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Are you okay with this?” You now turn the question delicately back to him.

He nods quietly, slowly. Then you watch the way his eyes darken, like storm clouds that create a wonderful whirlwind sweeping you up.

“Then take me.” You mutter drawing him closer to you.

There had been someone, an elder in your kind, who once engaged in passionate matings multiple times with a sailor. She was shunned from your colony for her transgression, but the stories she told became forbidden whispers told among everyone. She swore the mating with her sailor was nothing she ever felt before, how that type of passion was indescribable.

And she was right.

Javier’s body heat burns through you. His tongue and teeth clash, devouring you. His body temperature compared to yours runs warmer, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It’s hot, messy and soaks you euphoric. You’re consumed, utterly drunk on this as you beg for him to give you more, give you all of him.

And when he enters you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He’s perfect, stretches you incredibly deep and heats you from the inside you never knew was possible. You wonder if this is what the creation felt like, this clash of heat and passion crashing, forming new caverns in your soul.

He kisses every inch of skin he can reach, and you clutch onto him like he’s your lifeline.

Listening to the grunts of Javier’s voice, feeling his body mold into yours, even tasting the salt of his skin, melts you.

You’ve never felt more cherished than when his hands traced over your skin, never felt more ecstasy than when his passion clashes with yours.

There under the shadow of the pier, with the waves crashing onto the shore, you meet orgasmic bliss in his arms.

Eventually, in the afterglow, in the late quiet of the night, his fingers trace across your tail.

“You’re amazing.” He mutters out.

Your fingers trace against his bare forearms.

“I could say the same about you.” You tell him truthfully. All the stories he told you about his time in Columbia, the way he loves his family so fiercely, he’s a rare soul you want to keep forever.

He barks a laugh, hollow and small. “Not compared to you, mi sirena.”

Emotions clog your throat.

“That man…Richie-”

“He won’t find you.” He quickly replies cutting you off sharp and simple, like he won’t even acknowledge the idea.

“But you’re in danger too, Javier.” You urge.

“He’s just a punk ass kid, my baby primo’s best friend. He won’t do shit.” Javi reassures.

Gloria’s warning resurfaces in your thoughts, and you swallow hard. Fear and doubt cloud your thoughts.

“Is this your way of repaying a debt to me?” Before you realize it, the words leave your mouth.

“Wait, what?” He questions.

You sigh, watching the dark waves out at sea.

You’ve always wondered why Javier was so adamant in visiting you, why he’s become so protective.

“I’ve wondered…” your voice trails off distant and small. You tell him the deep worry that’s been brewing.

You’ve wondered if he’s simply here with you, doing all of this, as some means to repay you back from saving his life. That his interest is simply born from a sense of obligation.

Javier says your name, firm and solid.

With a hard frown on his lovely face, he shakes his head.

“At first I just wanted to thank you. But now…now I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. Don’t even wanna think about leaving you.” Javi admits quietly.

Your heart becomes crystalized, heavy and heated from his words.

His gaze returns to your tail, and fingers again reverently stroking against your skin.

“I’ve seen so much shit, been god damn burnt out. Then you reminded me of how fucking beautiful this world is.” Javier adds.

Stories told about the surface dwellers painted them as ruthless, cold, and selfish. But Javier isn’t like that at all. He’s incredibly curious, kind, protective, a bit grumpy at times. And he’s beautiful.

He’s the one who showed you the true beauty of the land above.

You slowly sit up, possessed by a deep emotion surging through you. When you rise, you lean to kiss Javier again. Your land dweller welcomes you with a warm embrace.

A net falling over your face wakes you in a panic.

Your body thrashes up only to find netting all around you. Fear drums loud in your ears.

Being worn out from the night’s escapades with him, you must have fallen asleep on the beach after Javier left.

A loud excited cackle cracks into the air.

“See! I fucking told you that bitch was a mermaid!”

Richie’s voice rings out terrifyingly loud. When your eyes snap up, the young man’s shadow falls above you and he smiles sinisterly. The sun isn’t even fully up, yet you see his face clear as day.

“Man, what the fuck?” Someone sputters, and your eyes flicker to the other individual here. You take it this other young man worried and a bit wide eyed must be Javi’s cousin.

“See! I knew your fucking primo was keeping this thing hidden, Leo!” Richie cries.

The net is grand, doesn’t seem to end as you try scanning around trying to find the edge of it. Your next plan of action will be to scratch your way out of it. You rarely use your claws, but this is dire.

Richie and Javier’s family member continue their frantic discussion in the early morning air.

“What’dya plan to do with her huh?!”

“Imagine the fucking money we’d get!” Richie answers proud.

The two bricker now and you can’t even pay attention to them. Fear poisons you fast, and you’re getting frantic. It’s now or never.

Once you feel your nails grow into claws deadly and sharp, you start tearing your way through the net mesh.

A strange clicking sound comes, and a loud gasp follows.

“Richie, what the fuck?!” Javier’s cousin, Leo, sounds petrified.

You still, turning your gaze to the source of the sound and find something pointed at you from above.

You’ve never seen one up close, but you’ve heard of these weapons, know of them and their instant death -

A gun.

“You brought your dad’s fuckin’ gun?!” Leo shouts.

“Didn’t know what we’d expect.” Richie sneers, but keeps his gaze on you.

“You try escaping and I’ll blow your fucking head off.” He tells you, and terror sickens your stomach.

You can’t even jump in the water. The net is so large and you’re so tangled in it.

“What the fuck is going on?” Javi. His voice comes in a breeze of salvation.

Your land dweller emerges from the side of the pier, and his face falls at the sight.

Hope tumbles in dizzying fast but collides with fright. Especially when Richie jumps at Javi’s entrance and swings to point the gun at him.

Leo yells loud in protest while Javi holds his hands up defensive but stays composed.

“I knew you were keeping this freak all to yourself. What? Didn’t want me finding it?” Richie spits.

Javi’s eyes flicker to yours for a split second. You lock onto his dark gaze and swear you can hear what he’s trying to silently communicate.

“What do you plan to do, huh?” Javier turns his attention back to Richie. “Manage to get her onto land and then what? What do you plan to do after that?” Javi’s voice is steady, an unwavering lighthouse among the storm.

He’s diverting attention onto him. Especially with how furiously Richie begins yelling at him not even noticing you.

“Man Richie, just put the gun down.” Leo urges.

You scramble back to the net, freshly grown claws at the ready and try cutting through the thick mesh. You need to focus, but your hands keep slipping out of terror especially hearing how loud they all scream now.

Continuing to cut, focusing with all your might, thankfully you start slicing through the threads.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?!” Richie yells.

Then instantly a loud bang comes.

A scream escapes you with how loud the sound comes. Then a sharp pain jolts through you like getting stung by a stingray, but intensified. Your tail feels like it’s on fire and you cry out.

You snap your eyes down. Whatever the gun fired off just grazed you, but blood begins spilling crimson over your scales and into the water.

Then commotion erupts. It’s a scuffle and soon enough Javi moves to tackle Richie.

But another loud loud bang rings out.

It happens fast. In a blink Javi rushes against Richie. Then the next he’s crumbling down onto the sand. Blood spreads soaking into Javi’s shirt and another scream rips out of you.

Something raw and monstrous, like a red haze, clouds you. You fully rip through the net and out of meshing. The most inhuman scream comes. You don’t realize it’s you screaming until your claws swipe at Richie’s legs with vicious intent.

You slice and slice not even caring blood leaks onto your hands, or that Richie cries out horrified falling onto the sand. Leo sees the opportunity, jumps in and tackles him fully, knocking the gun away.

Your hands shake, but you scramble around looking for Javi.

Your land dweller manages to drag himself closer to you, but the bleeding is getting worse. Color drains from his beautiful face. You don’t even care how much your tail stings. You pull yourself onto the sand towards Javier until you move to draw him into your arms.

The tears fall fast and uncontrollable.

“No tears, mi sirena.” He wheezes with a soft sight. “It’s alright.”

You cradle him in your arms, burrowing your head into his hair as you cry.

You have to save him.

Then it hits you. You have one last thing, one last hope.

You shift with shakily hands and rip your necklace off.

He mumbles your name while you shift him in your arms. Javi must spot the necklace because he again says your name curiously.

“Wait… What are you doing?” He presses harder but his voice grows hoarse.

Please, you whisper in your heart as the tears roll down your face, please save him, take whatever you need.

You place the necklace against his wound. Javi’s voice calling to you comes quickly, but then - your world goes dark.

Waking up, an unfamiliar sensation surrounds you. You’re warm, bundled in something soft and unfamiliar.

Snapping your eyes open you discover you’re in a new place. It’s a space inside a cozy land dweller home. The walls are a soft sunset color and so many sells decorate the area. A mess of emotions overwhelms you and you scramble to move.

That’s when someone rushes to your side.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Javi.

He kneels down beside you and your eyes cloud with tears fast.

“You’re alright.” You sob out.

Javier’s earth eyes glisten watery and he nods, grabbing your hand to kiss your palm.

It worked. The wish worked.

You now wonder what the ocean took, what price did you pay. Until you notice…your lower body doesn’t feel the same. The sensation where your tail should be feels different. Legs, surface dweller legs, shift under the covers.

You sharply inhale as the thought hits you.

Tail no more, you’re human.

“Honey.” Javi begins cautiously. “I’m sorry. It happened right after you saved me and-”

You jump to embrace him, truly hold him. You reassure him there’s nothing to be sorry for.

He pulls you into his arms and squeezes you tight while kissing the side of your head fiercely. You don’t know how long you stay holding him, but eventually you ask about what happened.

Javi and his cousin, Leo, managed to subdue Richie as more people heard the ruckus in the early morning. They kept him controlled until law enforcement showed up. After that, you were taken to Javier’s family residence where you’re been resting ever since.

“Is he going to come back?” You ask a bit worriedly, clutching his hand. Javi’s free warm hand moves to stroke your face.

“No mi sirena, he won’t hurt us again.” He promises true and unwavering.

“Is she up?” A new excited voice comes in, interrupting your moment with Javier.

“Pop.” Javi sighs exasperated, almost embarrassed, but the door opens quickly.

The man in a cream colored hat comes in and you recognize him as Javi’s father. His eyes, gentle and warm, crinkle as they take you in.

“What?” He jokes to his son. “You won’t let me see the ángel who saved my son twice?”

His name is Chucho and he’s a dazzling ray of sincerity. Pure sunshine, he hugs you tight, thanking you in a watery voice.

Realizing what he said, something in you pauses worried for a moment. Javier must have told him who you are, or who you were now.

“Don’t worry,” Chucho reassures you with the same steadfast tenderness his son holds. “Your secret is safe with us. Afterall, you won’t be the only one in the family now.”

He winks at you, however a bit of confusion bubbles up.

“Aye Chucho, let her be.” The familiar voice startles you.

Gloria with her lovely aged face wanders in and a handsome older man follows right behind her. He must be the husband she spoke of. His resemblance to Chucho sits in the familiar grin. Gloria’s smile is soft, faintly sad, but understanding.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again this way, young one.” She nods.

“Found out you and my Tía Gloria met,” Javi mutters amused and your mind trips over itself.

The woman who traded her life in the sea for the land…

She’s Javier’s aunt.

For some reason that comforts you, and you laugh watery while she moves to embrace you as well.

Eventually you get to rest more among the soft covers and in Javier’s arms.

“A bit late to ask but,” Javi begins with a dry snort. “You regret it?”

You shake your head no, telling him you never will. It’s a choice you would make in every lifetime. He pulls you closer into his arms kissing the top of your head.

Eventually he slowly falls asleep, and you’re lulled into a peaceful serenity.

Where you rest gives you a clear open view of the sea just beyond your reach. Javi’s soft snorts mix with the soft breeze of the waves crashing faintly outside.

Your people were right. The water does provide. Because as Javier shifts in his sleep, almost nuzzling into you more, you realize the sea brought you to a treasure you can’t find among the waves.

The sunlight dancing on the ocean waves feels like both a twinkling goodbye and a wave hello to this new world of yours.

#I’ve never done mermay so here’s to embracing the magic and getting our dream love with Javi #also if you read me and all the mermaids and Javi P love you #Javier Peña x reader #Javier peña x mermaid!reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #javi p x reader #javier pena x reader #Javi P 🤎#pedrostories

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