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celestiamour · 6 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. moon ki-yong (the salesman) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

moon ki-yong is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied.

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past.

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark.

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel.

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all.

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ki-yong doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep.

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake.

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours.

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what moon ki-yong was doing behind your back.

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction.

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later.

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine.

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease.

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station.

“ki-yong?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road.

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough.

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

#📜. her works #the salesman #the salesman x reader #gong yoo #gong yoo x reader #squid game #squid game x reader #moon ki yong #moon ki yong x reader

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macabrebatz · 4 months ago

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WHAT THE SLASHERS SMELL LIKE

Except I get too realistic and carried away

Author’s Note: No seriously. I got carried away. Didn’t intend to write for this many slashers but the thoughts kept coming. If you all want a part 2, let me know!

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Rufus “RJ” Firefly Jr., Baby Firefly, Otis B. Driftwood, Captain Spaulding, Pinhead, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Art the Clown, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Ash Williams (I know he’s not a slasher, shush), Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire, Mitch/The Ghost, The Driller Killer

Warnings/tags: Realistic takes on the body odor & hygiene of various horror characters, mention of sex on Freddy’s part (and alluded to in Otis’s part), gender neutral reader, not beta read

Word count: 1.7k

Jason Voorhees

Jason smells bad. Like really bad. He smells like mud, mildew, blood, and a rotting corpse that’s been soaking in lake water. It takes a long time to be in such close proximity to him. Personal hygiene isn’t his strong suit at all. But once you come along he’ll definitely try. His clothes can be changed and washed but Jason’s body stinks in a way that a shower and soap simply can’t fix (at least not fully). It’s possible to get the smell toned down to somewhat tolerable levels. But realistically I think he’ll always have a bit of a smell to him.

Bo Sinclair

Bo, for the most part, smells fine. He takes regular showers, washes his hair with a generic shampoo, brushes his teeth, etc. When he hasn’t been working, he’ll smell like cheap cologne and whatever scented soap you keep in the shower. But if he’s been working at the mechanic shop he’ll come home smelling like sweat, oil, and gasoline (and blood if he’s killed someone that day). There’s also always a faint smell of cigarettes. The smell seems to have seeped into his clothes permanently after many years of smoking. You don’t have to coax him to shower, he heads there without a fight. After a long day, a shower can make him feel better anyway.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn’t smell too bad but he doesn’t always smell great. He often smells like beeswax, which isn’t a bad smell. But he can get quite sweaty as well and doesn’t shower as frequently as Bo. So it’s not the best smell combo. I mean, he’s constantly working in a hot basement/workshop…in a sweater…in a mask…with long hair……in Louisiana. Yeah, sweating is a common occurrence. He’ll probably increase his amount of showers for you. He gets so caught up in sculpting that he forgets sometimes though.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is the worst Sinclair brother when it comes to smell and hygiene. When you first meet him smells like roadkill, sweat, and dirt. His hygiene isn’t great. He doesn’t shower often, nor brush his teeth often. But when you come along he definitely starts caring about his hygiene more. He’ll take showers and brush his teeth. Maybe he’ll wash his clothes more…maybe.

Rufus “RJ” Firefly Jr.

Rufus smells fine for the most part. He showers regularly and uses deodorant. By the end of the day though he might have a slight musky smell to him but nothing too bad usually. Sometimes he would stink after working on cars all day in the Texas heat. He’d come home smelling like sweat and oil and you might have to ask him to take a shower. Occasionally he’d have a faint smell of beer or whatever alcohol was lying around on his clothes.

Baby Firefly

Baby takes frequent showers and bubble baths (when she’s not on the run with the family). She likes soap with a fruity scent, often opting for something that smells of berries. Sometimes she’d smell like blood but usually, she’d smell rather good. She has a variety of different perfumes snagged from the luggage of different victims. Just like her soap, she often goes for things with more of a fruit scent.

Otis B. Driftwood

Otis doesn’t smell good often. In fact, a lot of the time he smells straight-up bad. Like corpses, blood, alcohol, and tobacco. Otis does take showers though so the smell is temporary. He doesn’t take them often though and sometimes you’ll have to ask him (or mildly threaten him) to shower. If he’s being stubborn and you really, really want him to shower then you can coax him by getting in the shower and asking him to join you. He’ll never say no to that offer.

Captain Spaulding

Captain Spaulding smells okay usually. He’s not the best smelling out of the Firefly family but he’s not that bad. He often smells like fried chicken from making it so often at his shop. There are some faint hints of alcohol, blood, and maybe even cigarettes. His dental hygiene isn’t great but he does take somewhat regular showers.

Pinhead

Pinhead smells like blood, leather, and metal. It’s not an overbearing smell like some of the other slashers but it’s there. You can smell it when you hug him close. I don’t think he gets very sweaty. Honestly, do Cenobites even sweat? He doesn’t shower, doesn’t brush his teeth. Hell, he barely even removes the leather he wears. He’s not human and he doesn’t care about human concepts of hygiene.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal smells really, really good. He takes regular showers, wears deodorant, and brushes his teeth twice a day. He sometimes splurges on more expensive shampoos, soap, and cologne. He goes for colognes with woody scents. Sometimes there’s a small hint of vanilla thrown in. A majority of the time he smells really fresh. He doesn’t often smell like blood because he takes the cleanup process very seriously. Occasionally the smell of whatever he’s been cooking might linger on his clothes.

Will Graham

Will also smells good for the most part. He often smells like the outdoors and cheap cologne. He obviously has a big sweating problem so that can make him not smell as great. But he takes regular showers, especially when he’s been sweating a lot. He likes to smell good but he doesn’t give it much thought.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba often smells like sweat, meat, and a heavy dose of decomposing bodies. Showers are infrequent but not nonexistent. When he does shower he smells fine but that smell can quickly disappear in the Texas heat, especially if the Sawyers are dealing with unwanted visitors. He doesn’t really notice the smell unless it’s pointed out and he’ll shower and change clothes if needed.

Thomas Hewitt

Much like Bubba, there’s often a smell of sweat, meat, and blood. In fact, those smells are stronger on Thomas compared to Bubba. He’s a rather musky guy. He doesn’t shower frequently. It’s a rare occurrence. But when you’re in the picture he might do a little better hygiene-wise, especially after a heavy dose of scolding from Luda Mae. And he’ll smell better (probably never great though).

Art the Clown

Oh, don’t get me started. Probably one of the worst-smelling slashers out of the bunch. Art smells like shit. Literally. And blood. And not just a little blood. The smell can be so strong sometimes that you swear you can taste iron on your tongue. Sometimes he’ll have faint scents of gunpowder and oil but those smells are often overpowered by others. Surprisingly though, Art isn’t that opposed to showers. He does the absolute bare minimum though, just standing in the water and rinsing off the remnants of his victims. He doesn’t mind getting all of that off of him but he’s not doing it to smell better. If anything, he likes the smell.

Michael Myers

He smells bad. Whether we’re talking about the OG or the RZ version, I can’t imagine this man smelling good when you first come across him. He smells like a corpse. It overpowers any other smell there could be on him. He doesn’t shower, he’ll wear the same coveralls for years if they last him that long. Hygiene is the last of his priorities and he’s not easily convinced at all to bathe or wash his clothes. Maybe (and that’s a very strong MAYBE) you could entice him to do something about the smell. It’ll definitely be a trade-off. He won’t give in easily.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy doesn’t smell great. He smells like ash and burnt skin. He almost smells like a campfire but with the added smell of blood and death. The smell is always there. It’s kind of permanent. And no, he won’t be showering. Don’t even suggest it because he’ll laugh in your face. It’s not that he’s against it, he just doesn’t want to nor does he feel the need to. The only way he’ll get in the shower is to have shower sex and that’s it.

Ash Williams

Ash smells good 90% of the time. He smells like pine shampoo, aftershave, and whatever cologne he wears. It’s not expensive but it smells nice. The other 10% of the time (when he’s hacking away at deadites), he smells like a mixture of gasoline, oil, blood, and whatever hellish smells come out of deadites. It’s not great and he’s aware of it. The last thing he wants is to be covered in brains but it’s just another day in his life. He honestly can’t wait to shower it all off.

Brahms Heelshire

Upon first meeting him, Brahms didn’t smell good. He smelled like a combination of sweat, dust, mothballs, and mildew. A direct result of constantly staying in the walls and lack of showering. If the smell bothers you though, Brahms is more willing to bathe than most slashers. He can be stubborn sometimes but he rarely puts up a fight.

Billy Lenz

Much like Brahms, Billy has a strong odor of dust, mothballs, and whatever other lingering smells are in an attic. Old boxed-up books, cardboard, mildew, the faintest smell of cologne (not sure if it’s his or it's just rubbed off from some clothes in the attic). The smells have stuck to his clothes and he doesn’t wash that sweater. He won’t put up a fight if the smell bothers you though. He’ll happily take a shower for you.

Mitch/The Ghost

Mitch smells fine…usually. He showers regularly, wears deodorant, etc. He usually smells of whatever soap is in the shower. The only time that he ever really smells bad is after long nights of running the Haunt in October. On those nights he’ll smell strongly of blood, corpses, and whatever acid they use to dispose of all the unlucky haunt visitors. Other than that, he smells fine the rest of the year.

The Driller Killer

The Driller Killer smells like cigarettes, leather, and blood. He smokes often. It’s not like he’s going to get sick from them (not 100% he can even die). Sometimes when you hug him, you swear you can smell the faint scent of a woody cologne. Or maybe it’s his hair gel. You’re not fully sure. But there’s definitely something there.

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randompiecesofwriting · 1 month ago

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Coffee Snob (Final!)

Summary: Robby has a bad shift, reader shows up to help keep him together

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: Angst! Happy ending though I promise! General talks of sad depressing things you know how it is

Author’s Note: The last part!! I’ve had so much fun with these two and I really hope you guys have too but I think that for now at least I’m done with them, let them have their happy ending. Thank you so much for all of your guys’ lovely comments they alone kept me writing new parts to this!

Tagging @li22ie2017 one last time!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Robby was right.

It was hard to go back to the way things were after that night. To return to a cold empty apartment shift after shift.

And maybe it was ridiculous to expect things to change drastically after one night. You’d only spent the night in his arms, made him breakfast the next morning, spent the remainder of the day in his clothes as the two of you went out and ran a bunch of errands.

The DMV, the bank, the locksmith, the grocery store. All day in his clothes, smelling like him after using his products in the shower.

That didn’t have to mean anything right?

But he could only take so many of Dana’s smug smirks as he delivered her coffee in the morning. Could only bare so much of Jack’s disappointed frowns each day at hand off as he asked if Robby had grown a pair yet.

So he was going to do it. Today. This morning. Before he could talk himself out of it.

He’d already talked his way through the process time and time again. Debated too many times if asking you to dinner was the wrong move given your profession. Wondered what he was going to do if he’d read the entire situation wrong from the beginning. He wasn’t going to push it off any longer.

He knocked on your door just as he did every morning before his shift. He had a surprisingly easy time getting up just a few minutes earlier if it meant he got to see you before going in. For too long he had told himself it was all for the caffeine.

He was practically repeating the words in his head as he waited. Practicing them over and over, ready for when you opened the door. Or at least he thought he was.

Because when that finally happened, when you finally opened the door and peered up at him with a bleary smile, his brain went fully blank.

How could it not when he saw that you were wearing his clothes.

He knew it was a possibility when he never got them back after lending them to you, but it was an entirely different ballgame in this moment, seeing you blinking the sleep from your eye, hair still mussed slightly from the night, silently waving him deeper into your place, all while wearing his sweatpants dangerously low on your hips. It was like you were trying to kill him.

He followed you in without a word, determined to recover, determined that he could still get through his question.

Then you beat him to the punch, speaking before he could, “they’re leak proof, I tested them, so you might want to put these in your bag” you handed him the familiar tumblers and he furrowed his brow at the instruction, nevertheless doing as you said and slipping them into the pockets of his backpack, the new rules becoming clear once you handed him an unfamiliar looking disposable cup.

He knew at this point his question was too far gone.

“What’s this?”

“Decaf for Abbot” you answered as if it were obvious, as if he should’ve known you’d make him one this morning.

“You made Jack one?”

You hummed almost nervously, playing with your fingers in front of you as you answered. “I’ve never met the guy so tell me if I’m wrong, but he seems like someone who would appreciate a proper pour over. Plain black and decaf of course”

“No he is” and the corner of his mouth tipped up in response as he inspected the cup “where’d you get it?”

You furrowed your brow at the question “what do you mean I made it”

“But it’s in a disposable cup”

“Well I couldn’t keep giving away all of my tumblers”

He paused at the implication, smile growing mischievously as he realized “Did you buy disposable cups just to give my coworkers coffee?”

You scoffed at the accusation, crossing your arms over your chest in response “What no I-“ you cut yourself off as you looked up at him to see Robby’s knowing smirk, the words dying in your throat “shut up”

He was laughing now, fully from his chest, the sound much too loud and earnest for this early in the morning and yet it felt right, it felt good. You watched him laugh while you squirmed slightly on the spot, rolling your eyes dramatically as you started to push him out of your apartment without another word, the corners of your lips still tipped up in amusement despite everything.

“No no I mean it’s sweet” he tried to defend himself, but you weren’t having it, hands on his back to physically move him out the door and into the hallway, grumbling about being late for work before slamming the door shut in his face, never giving him the chance to say anything more.

Robby’s grin never once slipped as you did so. “Thank you honey” he called loudly through the door despite the early hour as he shook his head softly, giving you a moment to respond even though he knew you wouldn’t before finally starting his trek down the hall.

With a smile on his face he couldn’t help but think that at least for now, this was enough.

Robby’s had some tough shifts in his time.

Of course none come close to the day of Pittfest in his mind but damn if today didn’t try and give it a run for its money.

He’d lost too many people, had to break the news to too many families, been screamed at by too many patients. Things just kept piling. He was pulled into too many directions so that it never felt like he could poke his head above water for even a second.

It was why at the end of his sift he found himself at the rooftop. On the wrong side of the fence. In Jack’s spot.

Jack was talking to him. And maybe he should be listening. Maybe he should care that his friend was trying to help. Maybe he should at least try and be nice when he asks him to leave but he doesn’t. He doesn’t blow up, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t collapse onto himself, instead he shuts down. He stares out at the ground below him and lets everything else fade into the background.

So he misses the way the gravel crunches beneath Jack’s feet as he retreats, misses the second set of footsteps that approach in return.

What he doesn’t miss is the newcomers first words to him when they reach the safety railing “hey”

And for the first time a single emotion cuts through all of the numbness he’s felt since he got to the roof, giving way to pure panic. Because he knew that voice.

His head whipped up to meet your gaze in surprise “What are you doing here?”

You simply shrugged, leaned your forearms against the railing, looked past him at the skyline “thought I’d see what all the fuss was about, scope out your usual spot”.

And he knew what you were doing. This was the part where he jumped in, made a joke about not bringing alcohol this time, did anything to lighten the mood. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t get his head straight enough to form a cohesive thought because you weren’t supposed to be here, you weren’t supposed to see him like this, to see the cracks, to see how he could barely hold himself together, to see just how weak of a person he truly was.

And you must have read his silence, seen through him enough to know that he needed an answer, because eventually you provided one “Dana called me”

And of course she did, he loved the woman, respected the shit out of her, but she had a habit of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, of trying to solve problems she had no business being a part of “I’m fine��

He refused to look back at you as he said it, refused to let you read his face as he blatantly lied, refused to give any weight to the conversation, refused to give you any reason to stay. And for a second you let his answer hang in the air, let him choke on it just a little before you spoke “We both know you’re never fine when I find you on a rooftop Robby”

He whipped around again to meet your gaze as a million emotions ran through him, his head not sure whether he should be embarrassed or angry or resolute in that moment. You knew, you always knew, and of course you knew. From that very first day on the roof he’d been able to see how well you seemed to be able to read him but he thought he had done a better job at hiding it, at being non-cholent, at being a normal fucking person.

“It was why I talked to you that first day you know” you continued as you ducked under the railing to come stand next to him “when I first saw you I thought about just turning around and going back inside”

He scoffed at that, burring his hands deeper into his jacket as they formed tight fists “instead you decided to what take pity on me? That why you started the conversation”

“Instead I decided hey here’s a guy who looks like he’d understand” you spoke the words quietly, without any heat, refusing to rise to his bitter tone “you aren’t the only one who seeks out a roof when things get bad”

That shut up him, made him swallow his pride, made him look down at you with surprised eyes, because you were the last person he would expect to need something like that, something you seemed to be able to read in his expression.

“I’m alone in this city Robby” you shrugged as if it were obvious, looking out over the edge as you spoke “no real friends, no family. I feel incredibly underqualified for the job I have and because of that I constantly put pressure on myself to be better, to be faster, to be more creative, to come up with more dishes, then maybe I can start to deserve what I have. I have an entire kitchen that relies on me including a chef de Patisserie who likes to randomly disappear on me meaning most days I’m the last one out and too many days I’m up at 4 in the morning doing prep work” you rambled nearly too fast for his brain to keep up, your eyes growing red as your blinks got quicker but never once did you allow yourself to faulter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you looked back up at him “so yeah I saw a guy sitting alone on a rooftop and thought maybe I shouldn’t be alone and after watching you for a few seconds, seeing the weight on your shoulders, thought maybe he shouldn’t be alone either”

And he deserved you yelling at him for what he said, hell he deserved a lot more anger from you, but for now he let it be, let your words fill the air around him for a second before he spoke “I didn’t know-“

And he didn’t need to finish he thought, you knew where he was going with it, answering with a small shrug “I’ve gotten good at hiding it, better than you at least”

He snorted at that, the corners of his lips tilting up at the edges just slightly for the first time that night “you’ll have to teach me how to do that sometime”

Seeing his small attempt at a smile had you relaxing slightly, your posture slumping just a tad at the sight of it, the corner of yours raising as well “not a chance, I like knowing when I can be there for you”

For once Robby decided to let himself feel comfort in that thought, allow himself to be looked after for a change, just a little bit “I want to know that about you too, to be that person for you”

And he watched your smile turn almost sad in real time, your eyes casting back out to the city “I see the way you shoulder everyone’s responsibility Robby” he furrowed his brow slightly at the change, eyes never straying from you even as yours avoided him “for your patients obviously, but also for your coworkers, for your friends. It’s this massive weight you can almost see that you’re constantly threatened to be crushed under” and finally you cut your eyes back to meet him, any playfulness from the past few comments long gone “I’m terrified of becoming just another responsibility for you to shoulder”

“What if I want the responsibility?”

You snorted at the question but again it was wrong, it was sad, hollow “you’re a good man Michael Robinavitch. I don’t think you’ve ever taken on someone’s responsibility unwillingly”

And at first he didn’t know what to say to that, because to an extent you weren’t wrong. He knows that he invested to much of himself into his work, gave too much of himself away, took too much on. But he could never bring himself to regret it, to do less, to be less. It just wasn’t who he was. “You know I’ve never considered you a burden I needed to carry”

You sent him a raised brow, a silent feeling of disbelief “Even when you have to take a day off from work to take me to the DMV?”

He chuckled at that, chin dipping down to his chest “especially then” He took a moment to study you, to watch your reaction as he said it, to watch the way his answer seemed to bounce off of you rather than wash over you “I mean it when I say I like spending time with you. There are few places I would rather be at eight in the morning than the dmv if you’re there”

He felt his chest warm as he watched your smile grow at his words, watched the way you tried to hide it by looking away, watched the heat creep up into your face as you bit down on your lip, every part of you trying desperately to school your expression and failing miserably. It was cute.

“You know usually I tell myself that sometimes I have good days and sometimes I have bad days and that’s just the way it is” you were looking back up at him again, lips pulled up into a soft smile “I’ve had a lot less bad days since I met you”

And god did that make him feel proud, making him feel deserving to even be talking to you, make him feel at a total loss for words on how to respond because what does one say when someone like you says something like that to him.

And as usual you had an answer when he didn’t. Taking a seat at the edge, dangling your feet over the side, and patting the ground beside you, beckoning him into the position he’s shared with you from your apartment building many times before. “So here’s what we’re going to do”

He relented almost eagerly, taking a seat next to you, sitting close enough your shoulders brushed against one another, happy to see that you didn’t seem to mind “we’ve got three options” he nodded at that, more than happy to go along with anything you said at this point “you can talk about your day, I can talk about mine, or we can just sit in silence for a bit”

He knew his answer before you had even finished talking.

“Tell me about your day”

You smiled softly at that, looking up at him through your lashes, bumping your shoulder lightly against his before looking back out in front of you “Well it started with me remaking the coffee I gave you three times”

A surprised laugh snuck out of him at that “what?”

“Well not yours and Dana’s that one was fine, the decaf for Jack though? It kept coming out either too bitter or too acidic I nearly drove myself insane trying to get it right this morning”

“Abbot would snort ground up caffeine pills if we let him” Robby chuckled again, shaking his head as he spoke “you could’ve given him instant coffee dissolved in lukewarm water and he would’ve happily drunk it”

“It’s my first time making him coffee” you defended yourself with your own laugh “ I have to make a good impression”

He laughed louder at that, more and more weight almost imperceptibly falling off his shoulders with each passing moment “I don’t think-“

“Anyways” you cut him off pointedly, giving him a glare that lacked any heat from the corner of his eye as you continued “after that I went to the restaurant and worked for a bit on some new recipes, we have a critic who’s expected to come in sometime this week I want to have something new to give them”

“You ever figure out that duck dish” he asked genuinely curious, eagerly watching the grin grow on your face in response.

“Oh my god Robby we pulled out some blood oranges and made a pan sauce with the juice” and god did he love watching the passion on your face as you spoke, the excitement in your voice as you described the dish to him using words he didn’t recognize, your voice getting louder and faster as you went, your hand shooting out to squeeze his bicep as you did so something he wasn’t even sure you had noticed you were doing, too caught up in your own excitement.

He loved watching you get caught up in talking about your food, loved the passion of it, the ambition, the excitement. So much so that the words slipped out of him before he even became aware of the thought entering his head. “have dinner with me”

He could physically see your train of thought come to a screeching halt at the question, could see the way your entire body froze as you processed it “what?”

And a big part of him thought about walking it back, pretending he had said different words, that he didn’t mean to attach the exact meaning he meant to them. A bigger part of him, however, was more than ready to double down “have dinner with me”

You furrowed your brow at him, struggling to put together exactly what was happening, struggling to figure out where this was all coming from. He couldn’t help it as his mouth ticked up on one side in amusement. “Yeah I mean we can get dinner, it’s probably a little late to pick up anything but I can make us something quick”

He was fully grinning now “no, tomorrow. At a restaurant. I’ll even let you pick it”

Your expression still hadn’t changed, one brow raised high “you want to get dinner, tomorrow, at a restaurant?”

He nodded “And I want to dress up a little for it. And pick you up at your door and tell you how beautiful you look. And I want to make awkward small talk on the way there. And pay for it before I escort you back home and beg you to let me do it all again”

At that you paused, eyes bouncing back and forth between his own as you desperately tried to read him, silently assessing before seeming to come to a conclusion “you want to take me on a date?”

“Several if you’ll let me”

And even if he felt like he knew you well enough to read your expression Robby felt like he couldn’t properly breathe until you responded, until he had your actual answer out in the air between the two of you.

And maybe you could read that in him too for you had no problem drawing it out, letting the statement grow stale on his tongue before you spoke “promise the small talk will be awkward?”

A relieved chuckle expelled from him at the question, Robby taking his first proper breath since he had first asked before responding “I’ll even start by noting what good weather we’ve been having lately”

You grinned at that, biting your lip as you scootched impossibly closer to him “well it has been uncharacteristically warm as of late”

“save it for tomorrow. At this rate we’ll run out of things to say”

“Ahh well we can’t have that” you relented, hooking your arm through his and setting your head on his shoulder as the two of you looked out on the city.

“Limoncello” You spoke out after a brief silence, your voice soft “I think we should do Limoncello tomorrow”

He couldn’t have bit down on his grin if he had tried, leaning down before he could stop himself and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head “I think I can make that happen”

You hummed happily at that, giving his arm a small squeeze in response.

“But only if we do Alta Via as the second one”

He could feel you laugh from his shoulder in response, your entire body shaking softly with it “Already planning the second one, someone’s awfully confident “

“I like to think I’ve earned the right to be by this point” he shrugged, still reveling in the ring of your laughter.

“Fine but I’m cooking for the third”

His grin grew so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt with it, unable to do little more than whisper his next word

“deal”

653 notes · View notes

eden031 · 3 months ago

Text

First meetings

Part 1 , Part 2

Pairing: Jack Abbot x female!intern!reader

Warnings: age gap (reader is mid 20’s, Jack mid/late 40’s), cursing, medical inaccuracies, misogyny (by one of the patients), mentions of suicide attempt (of a patient), mentions of child injury (of a patient), Jack Abbot is emotionally constipated, jealous!Jack Abbot, night shift shenanigans

Summary: After agreeing to do Dr. Robby a favour and transfering to the night shift she has to face that working with Dr. Jack Abbot might not be the easiest.

A/N: Soooooo we are so back baby. I am already working on a part three for this and in all honesty I might make this a longer series. Also Robby might be a bit ooc, but I wanted him to be kind of the ED dad, so here we are. Writing this is actualy so fun, though this part is more there to set up the next parts and get the story moving. Another thing is I made a playlist for the vibes, so if you are interested just click HERE

For two weeks she had successfully avoided Dr. Jack Abbot, well avoiding him was the wrong term: she had practically fled the area every time she had spotted him and if she had to go near him it was only if Whitaker or Mel were with her. Talking to him alone would probably make her brain short circuit within the matter of half a minute. Still she had tried to be as subtle as possible about it, never going too fast or just turning on her heel without apparent reason and from her perspective she had done an outstanding job at pretending to everyone around her that she was not avoiding him.

She had promised herself to be angry at him if she ever saw him again, that promise had been made about two weeks after their first meeting, between drinks and pizza shared with her roommate. Yet once these hazel eyes found her she was just putty and it scared her. Hell she had not even reacted to her first real boyfriend like this, she had never reacted to anyone like this. The only reason why she had been able to be angry at him or at least snappy was that she had been incredibly hangry and would probably have snapped at a lot of people in that state when she had met him in the Pitt, and there was probably also some shock to it.

The shift was finally coming to an end, she had thought that her first shift had been grueling, but this shift, the first shift in her third week in the Pitt, had probably been worse, there had been a pile up on the interstate and all victims were brought to the PTMC. There were about ten people severely injured and twenty six more minorly injured, it had been all hands on deck and the interns and med students had been left to make sure that the people with minor injuries were treated quickly.

That had kept them busy the entire day while they still had to deal with the usual flow of patients. Glancing at the clock she saw that it was seven thirty, the shift was officially over, though she could not leave yet. Dr. Robby had asked to talk to her, something that was strange in and of itself, usually if an attending wanted something from an intern like herself they would talk to the senior residents first. Shaking her head she ran her hand over her face, hoping that it wouldn’t take too long and that it wasn‘t something too serious. Afterall she had a date with a hot bath and left over lasagna. Watching as most of the other day shift staff was leaving she let out a low grumble of discontent.

“Sorry that took so long,” the voice of Dr. Robby caught her attention, just waving her hand in the air she shook her head.

“No worries,” the issue had not been that she had to wait for him. The issue was that the waiting had induced some anxiety in her, wondering what the hell the man could possibly want from her.

“So,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his head, he stood hunched over, an almost guilty expression on his face, “I need to ask you something,“ he sounded so guilty and unsure that she was beginning to get really worried. It sounded like he was fighting with his inner moral compass. „Usually interns and med students stay on day shift, but due to the issue with Dr. Langdon not being with us anymore and there being four people we somehow need to make sure stay supervised most of the time it‘s a bit much,“ he looked at her with those big brown puppy eyes of his that made him look about ten years younger than he actually was. At least now she knew in which direction this was going. He was about to continue with his explanation of the situation as she decided that she would just address the elephant in the room.

„So one of us needs to change to the night shift?“ she asked, tilting her head slightly. Dr. Robby sighed, his hand going back to the back of his head, scratching awkwardly.

„You don‘t have to, but it would lighten the workload on everyone and make Gloria happy,“ well there it was, there was the reason Dr. Robby seemed to feel so bad about asking this. It was probably Gloria being a pain in the ass and bugging him about it.

She knew why he had asked her specifically. Bridgit had taken a liking towards her, some had started calling Bridgit her work mom. The older woman always checked in on her during shift change, always made sure she had eaten something before leaving the hospital. Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen also seemed to like her, from what she knew she was one of the people from the day shift that chatted the most with them, she and Dr. Ellis had even had coffee together once. They had coincidentally met in the same coffee shop and decided that it would be a good idea to have their coffee together. Still there was one question that burned on her mind now.

„Did you talk to Dr. Abbot about this already?“ she asked carefully, trying to gauge how far this process had already gone.

„Yes, but not only you.“ Dr. Robby paused, „I talked to him about the four of you,“ the four of you probably being Santos, Whitaker, Javadi and herself. „He told me that he would be glad if you joined his team,“

That almost knocked the air out of her, butterflies in her stomach doing happy little flips. She had thought that Dr. Abbot would be unhappy about her coming to the night shift, hell she would have thought that he might even tell Dr. Robby that he did not want her around him at all.

„I just have to ask: what did you tell him? It‘s not like I performed a damn RABOA in the field like Santos did, or even worked through the MCE like the others,“ she glanced at the floor, it was a genuine question, the others had a lot more experience and confidence thanks to that. She heard him sigh, cringing internally, knowing that this was probably a bad idea. Before she was able to tell him to forget it he spoke in that kind and gentle voice he used when talking to patients when he knew they were feeling uncomfortable or scared.

„You know that it is not always about what a person has already done, right?“ he gave her a small but kind smile, „There is a lot of potential I see in the way you work,“ he paused, „Do you still remember the unresponsive kid that came in last week?“ There had been a few unresponsive kids last week, but she knew exactly which one he was referring to.

She nodded silently, it had been scary to see that kid, not older than four that had apparently taken a tumble while playing with his brother and was unresponsive afterwards. She had asked one of the nurses if someone had already checked his glucose levels because she had looked into the chart and not seen anything regarding them. Apparently everyone had forgotten to do that, the worry of a little boy having taken a tumble while playing with his brother was too great, everyone focused on the fall, though his blood glucose level had actually explained the tumble and the unresponsiveness.

„Or the veteran suicide attempt?“ Dr. Robby asked.

That one had hurt her so badly, the man had survived four tours, then just a week after he had come back from his fourth tour his wife and daughter had been hit by a drunk driver, both dying on sight. She had been one of the people that had initially treated him and also been the person to get him to calm down with what she was saying he had been alert and very aware of what was happening. Afterwards she had always checked in with him, in his attempt he had lost both of his legs above the knee, recommended him a support group for veterans in the most gentle way possible, one she had been told about by a friend of hers from med school. After he had been able to get a bed upstairs she started visiting him after her shifts, always having tea or coffee with him before she headed home completely.

„Yeah, of course,“ she nodded, she hadn‘t worked here long enough that cases would start blending together.

„That is why Abbot wants you on his team,“ he paused, „It‘s because you care, you pay attention and yet somehow work quickly,“ he shook his head, „To be honest I am not too happy with letting you go.“ a friendly smile on his face.

——————————

After that conversation she could never have refused Dr. Robby. So that was how she had ended up at the ED, at six fifty in the evening with two huge boxes of donuts balanced in her arm as she tried to put her backpack into one of the lockers. Pressing the door shut she looked around, the stethoscope resting against her neck, this time she had opted for a long sleeved thermos underneath her scrubs, from what Bridgit had told her the ED could sometimes get cold during the night, even if the AC was running. People from the day shift were already filtering out, apparently for once shift change had gone smoothly and people could pack up and leave the PTMC on time.

Suddenly Dr. Shen appeared from behind her, in one hand his coffee, the other one tangled in his badge.

“Precious cargo you have there,” he gave her a slight grin as they continued to walk towards the entrance to the Pitt. The donuts slowly got heavier in her arms as the door leading into the organised chaos of the Pitt came closer. She could feel her heart hammering in her ribcage as they walked together, she would have to face Dr. Abbot today and she knew that she needed to stay focused on the job.

“Thought that I could bring them as a bribe so that you go easy on me,” she joked as he held the door open for her so that she could slip into the hallway, luckily the next door was the staff break room. Dr. Shen laughed as he shook his head slightly.

“Abbot never goes easy on the newbies,” he continued to slurp on his coffee. A slight shiver ran down her back as she thought of his warm and steady hands guiding her through a procedure. Shaking her head she quickly deposited the two boxes holding 25 donuts each onto the table in the breakroom, the sticky note still attached to them, a little note she had written wishing everyone a good shift.

“Great,” the sarcasm was dripping from her mouth as they turned to head towards the nurses’ station. Dana was still there, talking to Bridgit, who seemed to be extremely focused on the info Dana was giving her. She looked around, seeing Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot talking to each other, Dr. Ellis standing beside them, nodding along.

Dr. Shen was approaching the group of Doctors, his coffee still securely clasped in his hand, she trailed behind him, glancing around, trying to see if there were still people from the day shift there that she could say hi to.

“Shen, finally,” Ellis greeted the junior attending that now stopped his rapid approach, moving to stand in the circle of people.

“You have looked better before,” he commented in a teasing tone as he slurped his drink, she crossed her arms over her stomach, doing her best not to look at Dr. Abbot who seemed to have his attention on the board more than anything else. She could feel the crackle of tension between them spark up again, it was unnerving as she stood there, waiting to be told what she was going to be doing during this shift.

“Yeah, no shit,” Ellis gave Shen an annoyed glance, “Olsen called in sick half an hour ago, can’t get a replacement in at this time,” she muttered. A sigh escaped her lips, realising that this would mean they were probably going to be in a bit of trouble, she had asked around a bit before her transfer and she had learned that Dr. Olsen was an R2 on the night shift.

“Ah great, but we got our intern now,” Shen patted her on the back. “And she brought donuts,” he announced, with that statement the mood of Dr. Ellis seemed to shift slightly.

“Chocolate glaze?” she asked with hopeful eyes.

Nodding she smiled slightly at the senior resident of the night shift. It already felt more familiar in this setting, maybe it was also because Santos was not bugging her the entire time.

“Chocolate glaze with chocolate sprinkles, got them specifically for you” she nodded, along to the silent glee spreading on the face of the senior resident. Dr. Robby laughed softly, giving her a quick smile.

“Alright, I am heading out of here, have a good shift,” with which her old attending disappeared somewhere in the depths of the Pitt, Dr. Ellis followed close behind, probably going to grab a donut. Standing there with Shen, who was still slurping his coffee, which was slowly getting on her nerves, and Dr. Abbot, who still had to address her, was slightly unnerving. Suddenly her name cut through the silence like someone had dropped a glass, it had been her last name, but it still sent a shiver down her spine as she looked at Dr. Abbot who was now directly looking at her, those hazel eyes focused on her and only her.

“Yes?” She tried to sound professional, but her voice came out in a quiet squeak, tilting her head slightly and she cleared her throat. Secretly hoping that it was good enough of a cover up for her squeak. He uncrossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly as he moved, his biceps flexing.

“You think you can handle the wound care cases on your own?” he asked, his eye contact never wavering, not even a little bit. At first she had thought it to be incredibly attractive, the way he always made sure to have eye contact with the person he was talking to, but now it flustered her, especially since her mind went back to how intensely he had looked at her when he hovered above her. She nodded courtely, watching as he seemed to think about something, his eyes drifting away from hers, lower on her body, she knew that if she moved now Shen would definitely notice it, “Also check in on the waiting room, bring back the more serious cases you spot, someone will take a look at them then.”

“Understood,” she could feel the heat rising to her face as she saw his eyes drifting off again, it felt like something began to crackle between them, suddenly he snapped his head up as Bridgit called his name. As he began to head towards her he turned slightly while walking.

“Oh and Josie will be helping you!” he pointed at an older nurse who was currently busy talking to Myrna who was sitting by one of the charting stations.

“Got it!” she muttered under her breath and headed off towards the waiting room, deciding to check out the situation there, evaluating how long it would take to get rid of the backlog from the day.

Most of the shift until a certain point was spent stitching up cuts, getting glass out of wounds, then getting them stitched up as well, treating minor burns and all that belonged to wound care. Josie was extremely helpful and made for great company, meaning that every single conversation with a patient became somehow amusing or at least not a complete disaster. She had just finished up a small head wound that needed two stitches when Dr. Ellis had swung by, telling her that the waiting room was practically empty now, something that was a huge relief. The only person left to be treated, who was currently being brought to the back, was a man that was slightly agitated from the wait and had cut his hand open while cutting an avocado.

As she stepped out of the room from the man with the cut on his head, who would be discharged in about half an hour, the cut had been from nothing serious and keeping him for observation was simply going to block the room. She heard an angry voice coming from one of the rooms, waiting for a moment Josie came out of it, shaking her head.

“Was that the guy that cut his hand when trying to cut an avocado?” she asked as she fell into step with Josie, she wanted to get the discharge papers for the man with the head injury ready before going into patching up the man with the cut on his hand.

“Yes, and I am telling you sweetheart, take either Dr. Shen or Dr. Abbot with you when you go in there, or maybe Nico or Tommy, but for your sake and my conscience don’t go in there alone,” Josie gave her a pointed look, her gray hair pulled back with a claw clip.

“That bad?” she cringed internally as she continued to head towards the nurses’ station. Josie nodded softly.

“I think the only reason he didn’t insult me or try to punch me was because I gave him some pain meds,” she sighed, shaking her head softly, “People these days.”

After getting the discharge forms ready she started looking for someone to take into the room with the patient. Seeing Tommy, one of the nurses leaning against the other side of the nurses’ station, quickly getting up she moved over to him, not wanting to bother him, but knowing that she needed to get this cut out of the way before the late night falls started coming in, Josie had told her that that time was approaching rapidly and she wanted to take a breather before those came in.

“Of course,” he nodded after she had explained the situation, walking towards the room she felt her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. During the day shift she had already experienced various disgusting behaviour from patients, but never had she feared for her actual personal safety during these times.

“Fucking finally,” was the first thing the man said as she entered the room. Taking a deep breath she greeted the man and started to prep for the suture.

“Mind telling me why the nurse is going to stitch me up, Doc?” the man asked as she put on the nitrile gloves, he was looking over at Tommy, who had taken a seat on the other side of the patient, getting all her suture materials ready.

“Because she is the Doctor and I am the nurse,” Tommy responded dryly, his voice was low and gruff, though he was clean shaven and she could only describe him as smooth looking.

“Gotta be kidding me, letting women do all kinds of shit nowadays,” she glanced at Tommy, Tommy glanced at her, their conversation did not need words. She needed to figure out now if it was safe for her to patch him up or if she should just call Shen or Abbot and get them to do it. Well she knew that Abbot would probably be annoyed when he was called away from his case, if she had caught it correctly a few moments ago there was a big trauma heading their way, meaning that neither he nor Shen would be available anyway.

“You will have to live with it,” she said with humour lacing her voice. She explained the procedure to him and as she started to inject the lidocaine into the palm of his hand after checking for nerve or tendon damage she heard one word very clear and very loudly coming from him.

“BITCH! You fucking bitch!” he practically hollered as she continued to inject the lidocaine, not taking it to heart, even though she knew he was actively cursing her out, not just shouting in pain, she continued. Finally she was done and soon was able to start stitching the cut shut. The man continued to grumble about her and her stitching, but the look she and Tommy shared made the entire procedure a lot more bearable.

The end of the procedure couldn’t come soon enough for her, especially not after she had given him a few instructions on wound care and having to come back to get the stitches removed. He had given her one last harsh glare, muttered something about her sleeping with her boss to get where she was, then took the discharge papers Josie had thankfully gotten ready while she was working and left.

Now sitting at the nurses’ station she felt a little uncomfortable, she knew that no one knew about her very first encounter with Dr. Abbot, but the words of the man had hit a nerve, trying to shake it she took a sip from her tea. The trauma case was now upstairs and there was a lull in the buzz of the Pitt.

“So what do you think about getting coffee before tomorrow’s shift?” Tommy asked as he leaned back in the chair beside her, his eyes gleaming softly in the light. A small grin on his lips, she licked her lips nervously. There was a moment where she hesitated, but then she decided that it might be a good idea.

"Yeah, why not!” she smiled at him, leaning back in her chair as well, suddenly a crack sounded through the low hum of the Pitt. She felt the back of her chair fall and she tumbled to the ground, the laughing started before anything else. Tommy hoovering by her side also started laughing as she held up the broken back piece of the chair.

As her laughter died down she glanced over to the side of the station where she felt like a dark storm cloud was brewing. Abbot stood there, his thick arms crossed, watching the interaction with an expression she could only describe as disapproving, still laughing slightly she raised her eyebrow at him, he simply walked away. Even if she did not want to admit it, a stinging sensation of hurt settled in her chest as she watched him walk from her away again.

——————

Tags: @antisocialfiore

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot fanfic

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yushiroll · 1 month ago

Text

"Perv." Armin x Fem!Reader

Cw: College Nerdmin, masturbation, listening to him jerk off, very perverted armin, very horny stuff LMAO, reader and armin are both horny fucks

An: This is split into two parts! Part two might take me a while to make because Im going on vacation for 2 weeks but don't worry, I'll be posting it as soon as I can! (If you guys really want to~) This is my second time writing a long ass fic so dont expect it to be that good.

As always, MDNI

Armin Arlert had been your roommate for a few months now, and everything you’d thought about him before was now out the window. Your first impression of him was anything but perverse—you thought he was just the typical nerd type. Apparently, you were so, so wrong.

Despite his avid collection of books, dictionaries, and thesauruses, he also owns multiple fleshlights, has gooner anime figurines, and jerks off so loudly that you had to ask him to keep it down while you were writing an essay for your major. Who knew this boy would be so perverted? Certainly not you.

You couldn’t lie, though—his moaning does turn you on. The way his voice quivers whenever he lets out a moan, the sound of the fleshlight plopping up and down his lubricated cock… it gets you so riled up that you once convinced yourself you needed to record a voicemail of him moaning for “research purposes.”

Don’t even get me started on his tongue piercing. The first time he told you about it, you absolutely freaked out—and for good reason. Having a thing for tongue piercings, and then suddenly your cute, nerdy, perverted roomie gets one? It was like the universe was telling you to go bang him already.

“Min, I’m going somewhere with a friend,” you say, spraying your signature perfume on the crooks of your neck.

“Oh? I’m going out for a bit too,” he replies, looking away from his phone and letting his gaze land on you. He subconsciously bites the inside of his cheek—his eyes darting over every curve of your body before he snaps out of his trance, just as his pants begin to tighten.

“How long are you gonna be out?” he asks, bashfully fiddling with the drawstrings of his dark green hoodie.

“I’ll be out for a few hours—oh, and since you’re going out too, you have the extra key with you, right?” He nods.

“Alright, I’ll be going now, Min.” He gives you a small “bye,” which you return before exiting the room.

You come home absolutely fried and drained, your social battery at its lowest. It didn’t help that your friends made you take a few shots of whatever the fuck they handed you. Struggling to get out of your thigh-high boots, you stumble into the living room.

“Mmm. Guessing Min isn’t home yet,” you whisper to yourself.

“M… ‘mh… fuck… y-yeah… like that… just… like that… fuck… y-Y/n… please…”

It came from his room. Those loud, familiar, wet plops. The whimpering, the whining, the moaning—he was most definitely home.

And wait… did he just say your name?

You thought you misheard him. Maybe he was jerking off to an anime character with a name similar to yours…? You just had to eavesdrop.

Quietly walking toward Armin’s wooden door, you press your ear against it.

“Mmmh… Y-y/n… goddamnit… feels… good… ngh…

t-take it, take it, take it, please… Y/n…”

He sounded so beautiful, so hot, and so fucking desperate. You couldn’t help but shift your thighs to quell that hot, throbbing feeling. You were getting riled up by the second, biting hard on your bottom lip. He was jerking off to you. Him having a thing for you had been the last thing on your mind.

Millions of possible scenarios race through your mind as you unknowingly match the muffled rhythm of Armin’s strained breaths. Your hand slowly inches toward your aching pussy, subconsciously circling your clit through your panties.

Should I open the door? What the fuck do I even do when I do that… shit, shit, shit, you thought.

You take a deep, shaky breath before placing your hand on the metal doorknob. "Fuck it.”

You open the door—and wow, what a sight to behold. Tissues littered everywhere. Clothes scattered across the floor. A finished bottle of lube lying on his desk. A picture of you pulled up on his monitor. And finally—Armin’s tear-ridden face looking at you in horror as he makes a feeble attempt to hide his cock.

“W-what the fuck?! Don’t you fucking knock or something? Jesus Chri—GET OUT!”

His voice cracks so much you lose count of how many times it breaks. He looks pathetic—face red, tears running down his cheeks from what you’d assume were the result of hours of just jerking off. And the smell of sweat and desperation in the air? God, it was intoxicating.

“Y/n, I swear to god, if you don’t get out of my room right now I’ll—”

“Is that a picture of me on your monitor? Were you… jerking off to me?” Even though you already knew the answer, you still wanted him to say it—just to milk the embarrassment from his face.

“It’s none of your fucking business. C’mon, please get out of my room…” he pleads, his voice like music to your ears.

“Excuse me? It’s totally my business since it’s me you’re jerking off to,” you say, taking a few steps closer.

Still sitting in his sweaty gaming chair, he slowly pushes himself backward, avoiding your piercing gaze. “I-I wasn’t jerking off to you, I swear! It just so happens that your Insta was pulled up on my monitor and—”

You lean in, placing your mouth so close to his ear it makes his cock throb. “Why’d I hear you moan my name then? Multiple times?” you whisper, sending a shiver through his whole body.

He looks at you shamefully, eyes glossy and brows furrowed. “Okay, okay—I was jerking off to you! I-I’m sorry… I know I shouldn’t have. It was inappropriate of me, a-and—”

You didn’t have time to hear him apologize—for something you jerk off to every night just thinking about. You pull him into a messy kiss, and it takes him no time to reciprocate.

He stands up, pushes you onto the bed, and kisses you again—eager to feel your lips against his. You feel his tongue slide into your mouth—the way it clashed with yours, the cold metal ball gliding between you—it made your warm cunt twitch.

He rubs his fingers against your clothed cunt, letting out a soft whimper when he feels how warm it is. “Fuck… can I eat you?”

#armin #nerd armin #nerdmin #armin x reader smut #armin x reader #armin x y/n #x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot #smut #nerdmin smut #lemon #just gooned #NERDMIN PLOW ME #FUCK MEEEEEEEEEEE

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chilumi-shipper · 1 year ago

Note

Can we have some more of genshin men eating us out?

Eating You Out (2)

Thoma x Fem!Reader / Arataki Itto x Fem!Reader / Alhaitham x Fem!Reader / Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Oral Receiving, Horny Characters, Overstimulation, Squirting

Summary: Genshin men eating you out I mean c'mon now what did you expect me to write here.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Thoma

At any moment, can just make you spread your legs, suck on your pussy, and make you cum, then just go back to his house keeping chores like he didn't just eat cunt.

Will approach you casually with a cute puppy smile, then proceed to tell you the foulest things ever with said smile.

"You're so pretty, honey! I wanna eat you out in that dress."

"I wish I was between your thighs right now, but I'm not done with my chores yet :("

"You should get ready for later! I think I might go really rough and leave you sore for a week."

He's just so cute! Ohh, but you know that he's capable of the most vulgar activities, and you know that he does them well.

The way he eats you out though...

Like the sweet puppy boyfriend that he is, he makes sure that you're enjoying it as much as he does.

Thoma gets so happy when you let him eat you, almost like he grows a tail and it wags with happiness as he laps up your wetness.

Your moans motivate him, whenever you let out a particularly sinful moan, he perks up, trying to do what caused you to moan so deliciously.

And he likes to stare into your eyes as he sucks your pussy. You just look down and see him with bright eyes looking up at you, and when you make eye contact, he goes even harder.

When you cum, he would try so hard to have it all squirt out into his mouth, then get up to look you in the eyes before swallowing the whole thing.

And finally, he would go back in and lick your pussy a few more times just to clean it up and make sure you're nice in comfy.

He would then lay beside you and snuggle into your chest.

Thoma would enjoy eating you out so much, that he would forget about the raging hard-on in his pants and just go to sleep.

Itto

Very brave, does it wherever he wants.

In a field where you could get ambushed by monsters? Seems like the perfect place to eat some sweet sweet pussy.

Eats you out like a hungry animal, no control whatsoever, just straight sucking and licking.

Absolutely loves it when you grab onto his horns, even more so when you pull him closer into your cunt.

He is a menace and will literally not stop until he's satisfied, overstimulating you so much until he's tired. No force in this world could part him from between your thighs.

Itto is so determined to eat you out that he will sacrifice breathing just to not break away from you, he's only going to stop when he starts feeling lightheaded from the lack of air.

He would guide your hand to grab his horns, urging you to grind your hips into his face. You would usually be feeling so good yet so annoyed that he just pulled you into some sort of cave and then proceeded to give you the greatest realization of pleasure with his stupid mouth.

He would be sweet talking to your sex, looking so love-struck as he says things like:

"Ohh, look at you all dripping, can't wait to suck all that into my mouth."

"You're so soft, so delicious."

"Look at you, all twitchy and puffy, but we're not done yet..."

He says such things while staring right between your legs, with so much conviction that it almost makes you jealous.

Itto will then carry you back home to eat you up some more.

Alhaitham

Possibly the most nonchalant pussy eater of the bunch.

This man calculates everything.

So you bet he knows just how to prod at the right spots when he's between your legs.

He knows the right amount of pressure to apply with his tongue, how hard should he suck, how long he has to play with your clit before you're nice and relaxed for him. He just knows everything.

Alhaitham eats you out as if he's completing an assignment, everything is planned and calculated, and despite looking submissive with his lips pressed against your folds, his intense gaze studies you like a book. His expression remains stoic despite the work his mouth is putting on your pussy.

The morning after he had eaten you out to the point of not being able to keep your eyes open, he would absolutely embarrass you with questions.

"Did you prefer that I keep my tongue on your clit or do you wish for me to explore you a bit more?"

"I observed that after your first orgasm, you seem to push my face further into you. Do you always prefer to have multiple orgasms when I eat you out, or is one enough?"

"Shut up, Alhaitham!" You would scream at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"What? Did you not enjoy me eating you out last nigh-"

"SHUT UP!"

But then he offers to do it again and who are you to refuse.

Kamisato Ayato

For someone rather high-ranking within the nation, this man shamelessly eats out his wife in his own office, in the middle of the day, doors unlocked, possible witnesses buzzing about the estate a room away.

Thoma is often the victim witness of your escapade, but he understands his lord quite well (read Thoma's part).

Ayato is a very busy man, with his unrelenting duty and whatnot, he finds that a good break from his busy hours would be to have his face squished between your thighs, lazily enjoying the taste of his beloved wife with his mouth.

He eats you out as if he was savoring a meal prepared by the finest cook of Inazuma, indulging himself by tasting every part of your cunt.

He would be slowly licking into you as you were sat on his desk, his head rest comfortably on your thigh as he starts to make out with your heat.

He would then part for a bit to catch his breath, then to look up at you and smile while a strand of wetness still connected his lips to your pussy.

This man is a lazy pussy eater, enjoying his meal for hours on end, ushering orgasms out of you ever so slowly as he makes sure to lick up every crevice.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Mmmmmh, yummy update...

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact thoma #thoma smut #thoma x reader #genshin impact itto #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto smut #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato smut

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ladsrlife2 · 8 days ago

Text

Sugar Daddy! Sylus - Part 2

Sylus x Reader

You thought Sylus was just your mysterious, well-dressed sugar daddy. Then you landed an internship - only to discover he’s the CEO.

tags: 18+ nsfw/smut, elevator blow-job, office-sex, sugar daddy sylus, bratty mc

With the love of many on ao3 and tumblr, I decided to write part 2!! Hope you guys enjoy this as much as the first <3

Part 1 💗

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

“Not too shabby for a CEO’s office.”

You say, walking into Sylus’s office, arms crossed like you own the place.

Sylus lifts his gaze from behind his sleek desk, amused. His crimson eyes glitter like garnets under the sunlight pouring in through the wall-sized window behind him, the skyline stretching wide - cold glass and mirrored steel.

He turns slowly in his chair as you strut past the leather sofas, running a finger along their edge.

“I’m glad it wins your approval.” His voice is rich and smooth, like wine served in crystal.

You ignore the compliment, scanning the office until your eyes land on the opaque glass wall at the entrance.

“So,” you say, turning back toward him. “Why did such an important man call a lowly intern into his office?”

His gaze doesn’t falter. “Because I supposed the intern had a lot to say.”

His eyes flick down to your figure and back up again, unmistakably pleased by your new formal look. You don’t blame him. You’re wearing your carefully chosen pencil skirt, silk blouse, black tights, and favorite heels.

“Let’s hear what the CEO has to say first.”

He gestures for you to come closer with his hand. You ignore it - and instead hop up onto the edge of his desk, your legs swinging idly.

He chuckles lowly, leaning forward to place a warm hand on your thigh.

“Things are… complicated,” he says, voice dipping lower.

You arch a brow. “That’s new. You, saying things are complicated?”

“It’s a personal mess. I didn’t want you to get involved in it.”

You tilt your head. “What, are you secretly married or something?”

Sylus scoffs, offended by the absurdity. “No. Of course not.”

You look down at his hand and slowly interlace your fingers with his. A calculated move. You bring it to your lips, place a kiss on his knuckles, and look up with wide, injured eyes.

“Even if you were, you know I would’ve understood,” you whisper. “I can’t believe you doubted me.”

He looks at you the way someone might look at a monkey riding a unicycle - a sight both entertaining and ridiculous.

Yet you continue.

“I’d go through thick and thin with you,” you begin solemnly, one hand to your chest. “And I would-”

“-go through thick and thin with my money,” he interrupts dryly.

You gasp, scandalized. “That is outrageous! Even if you were poor! And married! I’d still be by your side!”

You clutch his hand to your chest dramatically. “Feel it - the heartbreak!”

You flatten his palm against your breasts.

He raises a brow. “…All I feel is a healthy heartbeat.”

He gives a light squeeze. You swat his hand away.

“See?! That’s all you think about! What happened to dignity? And honor? And chivalry?”

“Alright, alright.” He waves you down like he’s swatting away an overly dramatic stage actress. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

You lean back on your palms, lips curving into something between amusement and triumph. “You should have.”

“I’m sorry, kitten.” His tone straddles that fine line between genuine remorse and theatrical sarcasm.

You cross your arms, wordlessly demanding more.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he continues, slow and deliberate. “Even though you’ve been so loyal to me.”

The way he lingers on loyal - you can’t tell if he’s teasing or trying to guilt you.

“What could I possibly do to make it up to you?”

Your heart skips a beat in thrill.

“I don’t know,” you say, coy. “Nothing could mend this broken heart.”

“Right. I should’ve known kitten is not a materialistic girl. Perhaps I can make it up to you with... sincere actions.”

Nonsense.

“On second thought, I think maybe the new Ferrari collection looks rather beautiful.”

Sylus chuckles, shaking his head at your shameless audacity. “Unbelievable,” he mutters - and sighs. “Fine.”

“Really?!” you gasp, and before he can change his mind, you climb into his lap with all the grace of a triumphant winner. You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming. “Oh, Daddy. I think I’m healed already.”

He lets out a low laugh that reverberates through his chest as he pulls you in tighter.

“Maybe I should’ve picked something more expensive,” you say, trailing kisses across his cheek.

“Your greed knows no bounds,” He murmurs into your neck, and takes a second to deeply inhale your scent. “But I’m always impressed by your efficiency.”

You reply, voice quieter, like you’re whispering a naughty secret. “How about,” you say, locking eyes with him as your hand drifts lower to graze the outline of his cock, now hardening fast beneath your palm, “...I make up for my so-called greed… starting now.”

His crimson eyes flicker, darkening instantly.

You keep the gaze as you palm him harder, slow and steady. His cock stiffens beneath your fingers, straining against his pants.

Just as you start to unzip him, his hand closes around your wrist.

“As much as I’d like that, kitten.” His deep voice is full of restraint. “Unfortunately I’ve decided to keep my office sex-free. As CEO. Dignity, or whatever you were saying earlier.” .

You look at him, mouth open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.” Sylus says, mouth upturned into a smirk.

“You’re doing this just to get back at me, aren’t you?”

He raises a brow, voice calm. “Hardly. I made that rule when I founded the company. Years ago.”

“…and I respect that.”

Sylus laughs, amused by your forced diplomacy, and plants a kiss on your lips. “Why, thank you.”

Just then, the phone on his desk rings. You rise from his lap, smoothing your skirt, giving him space. As he reaches for the phone, his fingers brush your back in a quiet, lingering touch.

“I need to get back to work,” he murmurs. “Thomas will escort you back down.”

You pause at the door, glancing back. He’s already answering the call, voice level, posture straight, every trace of indulgence vanished. The tension in the room dissipates like smoke - replaced with cold, crisp professionalism.

It scratches something in you.

That he can switch off so easily, that you're left hot and bothered while he returns to work like nothing happened.

That kind of control is... infuriating. And sexy.

You follow the assistant down the hall, and step into the elevator and press the button.

As you watch the numbers decrease steadily, you begin to wonder:

What ever you should do to make sure Sylus breaks his precious little ‘rule’ that is oh, so unlike his character?

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The opportunity presents itself.

It just so happens that Sylus doesn’t always use his exclusive elevator.

On your fourth day of work, you’re wrapping up a minor errand at a nearby bank around noon. You enter one of the three main elevators in the hall - only to find Sylus already inside, alone, head bowed over his business phone, texting.

Too immersed, he doesn’t notice you entering. You eye the buttons and see that only the top most floor - 53 - is lit. You don’t press 8, your floor.

Instead, you slowly walk towards him, slightly undoing the top most buttons of your silk blouse, heels clicking quietly on the floor. It’s only when you’re right in front of him, barely a hand’s width apart, when he looks up from his phone with a full look of caution.

His crimson eyes relax instantly when he realizes who you are.

“Oh, it’s you, kitten-”

His words taper off as his eyes fall to your cleavage, lush and spilling over your bra beneath the undone blouse.

His lips curl into a smirk.

“Hey, boss-man,” you say, voice low and slow. You raise a hand to his stomach and stroke down gently. “Busy day at work?”

“…Surely you didn’t walk into work like that.”

“And what if I did?”

He sighs, eyes briefly shutting as he rubs his temple, like he already knows you're about to test every limit he thought he had.

“Just button it up, before anyone walks in, please.”

The mirror behind him reflects floor 14.

“How about-” your hand trails lower to the waistband of his slacks.

With the way he jolts, you know he knows what you’re about to do. Before he can stop you, however, you slip past his hands and cup his balls, giving them a deliberate squeeze.

“-No.”

You know he loves it when you do that.

A sharp breath escapes his lips.

He catches your wrist, intent on stopping you - but as your fingers begin massaging his heavy sac, his grip slackens.

“Kitten.”

His voice is strained.

But despite his threatening words, his grip loosens like his body has lost all will to resist.

It’s been a week since he last had you. He’s as pent up as you’d expect.

You stroke him through his pants with your free hand, watching his dark, unreadable expression.

“You never said anything about no sex in the elevator,” you murmur.

Before he can respond, you unbutton and unzip him in one smooth, practiced motion.

The mirror now reflects floor 23.

And then you drop to your knees.

Before he can even utter a protest, his briefs are down and your lips wrap around his length. You take him all at once, warm and slick and deep into your throat.

A groan tears from his chest, and his hand flies to your hair, instinctive and desperate.

“Get off-”

You suck harder in answer.

His cock slides deeper into your throat, your nose buried against his pelvis, eyes glistening with the effort as you fight the urge to gag.

He curses low under his breath. His legs tremble.

Your throat tightens and releases in rhythm, massaging him in a way he can't resist. His grip loosens, turning from restraint to encouragement.

Floor 29.

You look past your wet, fluttering eyelashes and lock onto his dark, undone eyes.

You bob your head steadily, filthily, letting slick sounds echo against the mirrored walls.

His brows draw together, lips parting as he exhales through clenched teeth. There's amusement in his eyes now, despite the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his hips.

Of course he likes this. Who's he trying to fool?

Floor 35.

“Mmh-”

A soft moan escapes your lips, muffled by his cock, as he nudges you to go faster up and down his length.

You stroke the base with your hand, jerking him as your mouth works his length. The way his deep breaths border on groans, the way his hips buckle every time you suck, the way his balls feel hard as you massage it with your hand, you know he’s close.

Floor 45.

Just as he’s about to tip over, you pull off with a wet pop.

He gasps, blinking in disbelief, flushed and furious and painfully hard.

You stand smoothly, adjusting your blouse, fingers nimbly buttoning each undone hole.

His eyes blaze. His cock is still fully erect, standing against his stomach, flushed and leaking.

But the elevator begins to slow.

Floor 48.

He looks at you, about to speak - probably to curse you out - but you step in quickly, fixing his pants, zipping him up, tucking in his shirt like nothing happened.

The doors slide open.

A small group of employees stands outside. You walk out casually, slipping past them like a shadow.

“Sylus! We were just on our way to your office for the 3pm meeting! What a coincidence.” Chirps a perky female voice.

“Charmed,” he mutters back, tone flat.

You don’t turn around. But as the doors begin to close again, you risk taking a last minute glance. You jolt to find out he’s still watching you - crimson eyes burning with restrained fury, humiliation and… hunger.

The doors shut, and he disappears behind polished steel.

Serves him right, you think.

That’s what he gets for being pretentious.

…Or so you try to tell yourself.

You swallow hard, heart still racing.

You try to ignore his last minute, furious gaze from floating back to your mind.

Surely, he’s not that mad. Right?

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

“Sylus- Daddy- please, I’m sorry! Please, just stop- ”

You find yourself pleading for forgiveness in his office a few hours later.

You’re bent over his desk, the surface rattling beneath your body as he pounds into you, deep and ruthlessly from behind.

It’s been an hour. You lost count of how many times you came. How many times he came.

Your shredded black tights cling uselessly to your thighs, soaked in slick and cum, both yours and his, dripping down all the way down to your ankles.

Perhaps you should’ve known it would end up like this from the moment he ripped your tights apart and didn’t even bother to undress you nor himself before burying himself inside. “Isn’t this what you wanted so badly, kitten?”

He growls, punctuating every word with a brutal thrust.

Your legs tremble violently beneath you, your hands scrambling for purchase against the wood as he holds your hips in place, unrelenting.

“You’re right,” he mutters, almost to himself, breath ragged. “I should’ve known better.”

Your moans melt into the sound of flesh slapping flesh, echoing off the office walls.

“No-sex rule, my ass,” he huffs with a dark chuckle, angling his hips just so - hitting your g-spot with surgical cruelty. “Right?”

You cry out, body locking up as another orgasm crashes into you. Your legs give out, but he catches you easily, keeping himself buried to the hilt as you squirt down his cock, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

“A-ah—!”

Your mind barely resets as you slump back into his chest. You reach for his forearms wrapped around your waist, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

Tilting your head back, you look up into his yet insatiable crimson eyes, and ignore the occasional twitching of your limbs and murmur, “Please, Sylus. I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do it again.”

You jolt as you feel him starting to slowly grind his hips against yours, again.

“What was that?” He teases.

“No- wait.” You plead out, urgently. “Don’t you have work to do?!”

Sylus chuckles and answers, pleasantly. “I made sure to finish everything before calling you in.” He purrs. “Told all my assistants to call it a day, even.” He grinds into you, his cock dragging torturously along your oversensitive walls. “ We’re the only ones on this floor.”

You choke out a moan in disbelief. You’re about to open your mouth to plead some more, when he brings his mouth close to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

“Which means,” He whispers, “No one’s coming to save you, kitten.”

You vow to

Never.

Ever.

Tease him again.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

You guys. When I write smut. It just flows to me so naturally. I never considered myself to be on the perverted side. I don't know if I should be happy or sad at my new hobby. Lol.

hope you enjoyed this :D

Likes and comments are life xx <3

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hirasunny · 10 days ago

Text

Unforgotten Vow

pairing — k-drama! yeon sieun x fem! reader

synopsis — you and sieun made one simple promise when you were kids, and you continue to do so as you got older.

warnings/reader notes — mentions bullying, you and sieun r crybabies (in a good way), sunshine reader and sieun absolutely adores it, he thinks you're a goddess, references to season 1 plot

genre — childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, slight angst

word count — 2.5k+ words

note: hi! it's me again <3 i want to thank you for enjoying my fics! i read all of your comments and appreciate it a lot :( it really motivates me to write even though i'm not the best at it. much love u guys ^^ as a thanks, here’s a story dedicated to this precious boy 💛 p.s: should i make a part 2? TT

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Sieun was 7 years old when he met you.

He was celebrating his birthday at the park before he accidentally tripped and scraped his knee.

His mom and dad sat by the picnic table a few feet away from him, yet he moved unnoticed to a nearby bench. He sat down in pain as he tried to stop himself from crying.

But it was unsuccessful, his tears fell on his lap continuously. He had a feeling that his father was going to scold him again.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice was small and chirpy when you went up to him in question, tilting your head while he wiped his face and nodded—he was not one for talking.

However, you spoke again, “Do you need a band aid? I can give you one.” You asked shyly.

Sieun looked at you closely, your clothes dirty from possibly playing a lot, your hair was in decent braids but some strands already sticking out, and your legs were visibly decorated with dirt.

He moved to your face, chubby cheeks and (e/c) eyes that held curiosity in them. The boy didn’t mutter anything but still took the band aid in your offering hand, ripping it open.

You smiled and sat down beside him as you continued to talk with newly found confidence. Sieun didn’t even know what you were saying—was it about the kids at the playground? He wasn’t sure. You were talking too fast and too much.

Nonetheless, he listened.

It felt like an eternity when his mother finally called out for him; she seemed surprise as soon as her eyes landed on them.

“My mom is here.” Sieun stated, having a glance at his parental figure. That was the first time he opened his mouth, you thought. You pouted at him.

“Already? But I was going to invite you to the slide.” You responded, upset. He didn’t talk—but you liked his company. He was the only one who didn’t cut you off from speaking!

Sieun gazed back at you weirdly. Why weren’t you telling him mean things like the other kids do? And you even want to play with him. It puzzled the poor boy.

Then, he noticed your lips change from a frown to a big grin instead. “But you’ll be back right? We can play next time!” You say in excitement, nodding to yourself.

“What’s your name? I’m (Name)!”

He took a long time to process it before he answered, “Sieun.” Honestly, he had no idea why he replied, but maybe it was the way you were determined to make him your friend.

It made him feel normal in some way.

“Sieun..” You repeated slowly, just to get used to the sound of it rolling off your tongue.

A shout of your name stopped him from speaking up, you took a glimpse in that direction with a pout, “It’s my mom! I gotta go.” You huffed, looking at the boy beside you.

“Come back, okay? I’ll be here tomorrow!” You added, giving a wave as you ran to your mother. He stood up, observing you.

He disliked going outside. But if it meant that you were there, it might be bearable.

—

“Sieun! What happened?” You breathed out after running. The boy was sitting alone at the swing as he stared into abyss.

To everyone else, he looked completely fine.

But you knew him—if you stare in his eyes long enough, you would see how much emotion he actually keeps by himself. And right now, you had no doubt that he was going through something heavy.

“Your mom’s really worried, she called and said you weren’t at home.” You inform softly, settling at the swing next to his. The night was quiet, you heard nothing but the sounds of trees brushing against one another and the creaking of your swings.

You got comfortable as you admired the starry sky.

“My parents..” Sieun started, following your gaze. You hummed, an indication that you were listening.

“They’re getting a divorce.”

You raise your eyebrows in shock, looking back at him. “What..?”

He avoided your look, the ground being more interesting than the look on your face. He felt disappointed that you had to see him like this. Again.

Yet you never cared.

The word was quite new to you, it was only recently when you discovered its meaning—though you knew it was more than just a word that hurt Sieun. It meant something to him.

So you placed a hand on his shoulder and peeking your head closer to his, “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You have me.”

Sieun finally looked at you, his eyes speaking to you more than words could express.

Thank you, they say.

You laughed lightly, ruffling his hair. He hated when people touch his hair, but you? He never minded.

“But if you have to move someplace else..” You rest your hand back on your lap. “Promise me you’ll come back?”

Oh, why were you looking at him like that?

Like you never want him to go?

Sieun’s shoulders eased and his tense look melted as he studied you. Then, he slowly raised his pinky finger. “I promise.” He told you truthfully. You smiled at him, finding the sincerity in his words.

You hooked your pinky with his, “Okay.” You whispered as to not ruin the peaceful moment.

Sieun was 10 years old when he promised you that he’d come back if he ever left someday.

—

Fate jinxed the both of you.

It must’ve laughed for the reason that it was you who had to move away instead of him.

Here you were, crying uncontrollably in front of your best friend at the airport.

“This is so unfair!” You sobbed, violently wiping your tears as Sieun gave you a tissue. He hasn’t said a single word since the ride to the airport. He seemed out of it, you noticed.

On the other hand, this was his first time to skip a few classes. You were surprised when he showed up at your house unannounced. You kept asking him several times if it was okay for him to do such a thing the whole car ride, he would simply nod as he stared at you after, you ignored it out of nervousness.

You never knew that he was memorizing you, because it could be the last time he’d ever see you again.

The star hair clip he gifted you on your birthday was neatly on your hair, the way you bounce your knee rapidly each time you get anxious, your backpack had all sorts of keychains that you buy from school trips with him, and the looks you give him—every smile, every funny face, every pout and cry. He'd remember it all.

Sieun took a mental note of all the little things, like he was studying: because if this test is about you, surely, he'd ace it.

Though, he wasn't the only one who notices, you also recognized a few things. Like his tight grip on the strap of his bag was evident, the slight twitching of his fingers—a habit he does when he’s overthinking, and his brown orbs that look at you to tell you everything you need to know.

He's...wait.

Is he tearing up?

You widen your eyes as he shuffled awkwardly and looked down, trying to maintain his posture.

"You're.." You were hesitant, but you took a step forward, bringing him to your embrace. You heard sniffles on your shoulder as he laid his forehead there while his arms remained by his side. He didn't know where to place them.

"Don't cry, you big baby." You murmur, your tears slipping out for God knows how many times today. "I'm gonna come back, you know that." You assured him. His hands finally moved to your back, gripping your shirt as he nodded.

You two stayed that way for a few minutes before his gaze lingered at you, "Promise me you will." Sieun lowly spoke with trembling lips. You exhaled from your nose, bringing his hand close to your chest as you do the same, then interlocked both of your pinkies.

"I promise you, more than anything."

Sieun was 13 when you left South Korea.

—

Three years had passed by as Sieun faced everything alone.

The problems, the bullying, the guilt—

Suho.

Every step he took felt like he was getting pulled down further and further away from the light he once saw.

From Suho, and most especially from you.

What would you think of him if you knew what was happening in his life right now?

He got his answer when he saw you.

You.

Your figure stood patiently outside his apartment door, a plastic bag containing all the snacks you used to share together was held loosely in one hand and your phone on the other.

Your appearance had completely changed. Your hair grew a bit longer, and the baby fat on your cheeks now reduced. You looked different, but deep down, Sieun hoped you were the still the happy-go-lucky girl he knew.

As you raised your phone to your ear, you check your left. You paused as the phone of the boy you were waiting for rang loudly in the pocket of his jacket.

The two of you stared at one another as the ringing continued, you, however, smiled knowingly at him.

"I kept my promise."

Sieun couldn't believe he could run that fast when he brought you into his arms.

Slowly, the chaos in his mind went silent.

Finally, for once. He was at peace.

Momentarily, he realized he was crying because you had to wipe the tears away, "I know," You still told him in a caring tone. "I'm here."

No other words were needed as you both remained in each other's arms for a while that day.

A few days had gone by rather quickly, and you started to see more of Sieun. He had grown taller since the last time you saw him, his voice was deeper from the timid, high-pitched one you always heard, and his eyes that used to shine at you were now dull as an unsharpened knife.

Regardless, something else had brought your attention—his walls that broke down when you met him was building itself up again. He became distant. The Sieun you cherished was back in his little shell, the one who refused help and locked himself away from people. You knew you had to pull him out.

So you were present, just like before. In every visit at Suho's hospital, you sat beside him when he typed out his messages; in every school he got rejected to, you had a list of backup schools he can apply for; in every night he had nightmares, you were only a call away; in every session at therapy, you were there outside, waiting.

Despite all the hardships and troubles he was facing, you smiled warmly at him.

He never understood any of it. It resembled the times when you were kids. Where you stayed with him more than anyone else.

How can you, someone so beautiful, still smile adoringly at something so broken, with its pieces gradually falling apart?

One time at the bus stop, it was extremely cold when the rain poured heavily around you.

Even as you laughed at a sarcastic comment he made about freezing to death, you still took his cold hands to yours, blowing on it. "What are you doing?" He questioned, startled as he tried to withdraw his hands.

"Keeping you warm, dummy."

You were glowing, and you gaze at him with the same loving grin. His heart fluttered, feeling his frigid fingers soften and warm up because of you.

He pretended not to know if the cause of his face and ears going red was also you.

You never complained and never rushed. You were there, patient and supportive.

Soon, he thought of himself from a few years ago. Whatever 13-year-old Sieun had realized when you went abroad, he was right.

Because he loved you. For the longest time.

And he was not going to let you go.

Just before the day he would move to the new apartment in Yeongdeungpo, where he was accepted in a school named Eunjang High, he knocked on your door, with your favorite food and drink.

"Wow! Is this your goodbye gift?" You teased him, taking the bag from his hand as you let him inside.

He wordlessly sat down when you invited him to the couch, you tilt your head. When Sieun was quiet, he had something in his mind. There was a sparkle of certainty in his puppy-look eyes as he stared at you.

"You okay, pretty boy?" The nickname was familiar, you always called him that ever since your playground hangouts. He often tells you to stop that—but you couldn't, not when you notice his ears getting red and his lips that tries to refrain himself from smiling.

“…” Crap. What was he going to say again? He made efforts to practice in front of the mirror only for him to fail at the moment he needed his words.

To you, it looked like he was struggling. It worried you.

You took the guts to place a hand on his cheek, fixating his focus on you. "Sieun, what's going on—"

"I love you."

You let out a surprised sound, your eyes wide at the sudden words.

You felt a sense of rushing emotions inside you. Was it excitement, shock, or bashfulness?

Whatever it was, you were just sure it was making your face hot.

Okay. That was straightforward.

But it was Yeon Sieun, the boy who always had a sure answer.

You pinch his cheek lightly, he squinted his eyes at you as if it could help his ruddy ears from turning back to its original color. "Hey, are you crazy?! Why are you saying such things?" You asked just so you can lighten up the conversation.

"Because I do. I love you." He calmly told you again, the three magic words made you cover your face. "Okay, okay! I get it." You were embarrassed, could he not act so nonchalant?! You were freaking out here!

"Is it.. bad?" Sieun mumbled, watching as you grumble something in your hands, somewhere along the lines of: "Curse those cold-blooded veins in your body!"

You looked at him, red faced with a pout. "No, of course not! It's just that..."

You trailed off, finding the strength to face him again and held his cold hands in your warm ones. You took a moment, "I.. I love you, too. Since forever." You breathed out, smiling shakily at him.

Were you a Goddess? Sieun thought. How could you look so beautiful?

He leaned to you, initiating first. "Can I kiss you?" He asks in a deep voice, pulling your hands.

You gulped nervously, nodding as no words could come out of your mouth.

He moved, closer and closer, until your noses touched and the two of you closed your eyes. The world around you stopped moving when his lips gently settled on yours.

Sieun was 16 when he kissed his first love.

#weak hero class #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 2 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero class x reader #whc1 #whc2 #yeon sieun #yeon sieun x reader

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mojavebluez · 6 months ago

Text

Bleed - the salesman x fem!reader

Chapter 2

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

summary - days after your first encounter, the two of you meet again, exactly as promised. This time, he’s eager for you to get to know him better. You play a game of two truths and a lie - with a twist: for every lie you miss, he gets to make you bleed.

tags - knifeplay, age gap, praise kink, degradation kink, blood as lube, bdsm, non-con, sadomasochism, sub!reader, dom!salesman, creampie, unprotected sex

a/n - thanks for the love on part 1! This is one of my first times writing nsfw stuff so I’m so grateful for the positive feedback :))

Series masterlist

4.3k words

———————————————————————

The days leading up to Friday were painfully slow. Your mind was plagued by thoughts of him, mostly denial about the entire situation. You were conflicted. The memory of him, so tall and utterly imposing - it sometimes made your heart skip, sometimes made it sink. You got the feeling you were only seeing a small part of him, a sample of his entire character. It filled you with dread. And excitement.

Friday came and there was no sign of him. You spent your whole day twiddling your thumbs and glancing out windows, searching for any sign of him. Occasionally, you would see a man in a suit walking past, and frantically stand up to see if it was him. But it was never him. You had memorised the curve of his back after nights of reminiscing, the exact slope of his jaw. It was ironic, really: with this information you could easily go to the police and explain the situation. You never did, though, and he must have known you wouldn't. That card - incredibly incriminating evidence, really - was just another symbol of the power he held over you.

On the way home, the reality of the situation becomes very real indeed. If you ran away, would he know where to find you? If you stayed at a friend's place for the night, or even in a hotel, would he seek you out? No. You aren't the sort of person to back out of something. Not now you're so close to finding out who this man really is.

You knock on the door of your apartment, expecting one of your parents to let you in. Usually, it stays locked during the day. But when you bring your hand to the door, it opens at your touch. You glance around. Then, step inside. The entire apartment is dark, every shutter closed and every light off. You don't turn them on, too afraid of what you might find if you do. Carefully, you search the place, trying to make your footsteps as silent as possible. But there's no sign of your parents.

Finally, you open your mouth to call their names. From behind, a hand claps over your face, muffling your voice. Your eyes widen in realisation, and you grab at the hand, attempting to pull it off. You recognise the smell of him. Something musky and expensive, though slightly metallic. The smell brings you to your senses, and your adrenaline kicks in. You scream against his hand, scratching at his fingers and kicking out your legs in an attempt to break free from his hold. He doesn't waver, just pulls another arm around you, holding you even firmer in place than before.

Eventually, you grow tired, and decide to do something you don't really want to. You bite his hand as hard as you can. He makes a pained noise and rips his hand away, staggering backwards. You jump forward, away from his hold, then turn to face him. He holds the wrist of his injured hand, studying it with a frustrated expression. When he looks up at you, eyes burning, fear sinks in.

You step backwards, anticipating his response. "I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Now, now," he shakes his head, a false smile on his face, "what did you do that for, sweetheart?"

You blink frantically, assessing your options. The only way out is the door, and in order to escape you would have to pass him, but he could grab you with ease. After a moment, he decides for you. He moves towards you, gripping your upper arm and wrenching your body toward him. His fingers easily curl around your entire arm. Your head rushes with regret. An assault like that can't go unpunished with him. You know it.

He pulls you through your own apartment and into the dining room, an action which indicates he already knows his way around. He pulls out a chair at the head of the table and pushes you into it. He wastes no time. Already set on the table are coils of binding; he grabs them and instantly starts tying your ankles. He then pulls your arms behind you with painful force, binding your wrists.

"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to do this," he says bitterly whilst tying the ropes.

"How did you get in here?" You ask him, tears thick in your throat. "Where are my parents?"

"Questions I can answer later. Be patient," he stands back once he finishes, and dusts off his hands like an artist that has just finished a project.

"Please-" you begin to say, but he cuts you off with a palm raised in the air. A ring of purple, angry teeth marks are imbedded in his skin.

"You talk far too much. Do I have to keep you quiet?" He lowers his hand carefully.

You press your lips together and shake your head frantically. That would only make the situation worse. He smiles approvingly, then lowers himself to his haunches, studying you from head to toe in a clinical manner. You feel scrutinised under his cold gaze.

"Need I remind you," he stands up, "you called me. I come here out of my own kindness, and this is how I am repaid?" He raises his hand again, showing the teeth marks. Then, he tuts and shakes his head as though he is greatly disappointed.

"I said I'm sorry," you watch him carefully, fighting back tears. His level voice seems more terrifying to you than any sort of outright aggression. When he is in control, he knows just how to make you scream.

He leans back against the wall and folds his arms. "I had something else planned for this little rendezvous, but I'm not sure it will suffice after that outburst. Something else, I think."

You watch him ponder. Everything about him is still a mystery to you. Why did he choose you? There are so many other girls. You scan him from head to toe, almost sizing him up. He wears a different suit this time: dark navy and paired with a black tie. His shoes are perfectly polished, and his hair is slicked back into its usual style. Memories of him rush past, flushed and sweating after practically violating you. That was someone else. You wonder if you will meet that man again tonight.

He seems to decide on something. "Well, I know so much about you, but you know nothing about me. It seems unfair, don't you think?"

"Everything about this seems unfair," you say bitterly, pulling at your ropes for effect.

"You're right, of course. But that's just the dynamic you'll have to get used to, sweetheart," his lips curl as he says the word. Nothing about him is sweet.

You eye him as he moves toward you and pulls out a chair. He sets it opposite you, closer than he was sitting last time. You instinctively shrink backwards as he lowers himself into the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees so he can be level with your eyes. "I have a proposition."

"What is it?" You say quietly, searching his eyes. Nothing.

"A game," his eye sparkles.

"Another one?" You whisper, breaking eye contact.

"Don't worry," he leans backwards, smirking, "no guns involved this time."

"How lucky for me," you say through gritted teeth.

"You're a very lucky girl," he smiles. "Something else - you probably played it in school."

You struggled to think of a school game that involved being tied down to a chair. "Peekaboo?"

"Funny," he doesn't laugh, "no, not that." He holds up two hands. On one hand, he raises his index finger, and on the other, he raises two more fingers. "Any guesses?"

You watch the gesture, thinking. Then it comes to you. "Two truths and a lie?"

His mouth breaks into a wide smile. "Good girl."

"But that's not fair," you say, voice raised, "I don't know anything about you! How am I supposed to win?"

"I'll make it easy for you," he clasps his hands together like a games-master on a TV show. "Round one, are you ready?"

You nod.

"Your parents are dead. Your parents are alive. Or your parents are in this apartment, right now."

Your eyes fly open. The mention of them was completely unexpected. You feel your heart rate pick up as you think of an answer. You so desperately want them to be alive - but would he even say it if they were? You decide to go for the most simple option: after all, you searched the whole place and saw no sign of them.

"You're lying. They aren't in this apartment." You say stoically, meeting his eyes.

He smirks. "Correct. So, dead or alive?"

"That's not how you play. I already found the lie-"

He darts out a hand and grips your thigh, making you cry out. "In case you haven't noticed," he squeezes your leg, "I don't play by the rules. Answer me."

Tears make your vision blurry. "They're alive," you choke, nearly sobbing, "that's the lie."

He pauses for a moment, not letting go of your thigh. "Incorrect."

"So they are alive? Oh-"

"You were wrong. You know what that means?" He dips a hand into his blazer pocket, pulling something out. You squint into the darkness, then freeze when you realise what it is.

"Oh god, no-" your whole body begins to tremble.

"Shh," he brings the blade towards your inner thigh, the metal reflecting your smooth skin, "if you try to win, this won't have to happen."

"I didn't know! You tricked me!" You whimper as he pushes back the material of your skirt and brings the blade to your thigh. There was no way for you to win that round, and he knows it. Once again, he uses you as a tool to show his own deception. He can’t be trusted.

"I'm shocked at how cruel you think I am," he says with fake surprise.

He presses the blade to your skin and you scream a bloodcurdling noise. Red-hot pain seeps from your thigh as he draws a deep line in your skin. You thrash around in the chair, but it only makes the pain worse. He makes a tutting noise, the noise an adult might make when a child falls and grazes their knee. When he raises the blade again, you look down to see a dripping line, like a crimson tally mark. One.

Your chest heaves as you try to console the pain. He pulls a cloth from his breast pocket and wipes the knife with one swipe. You meet his eyes and find that familiar mist clouding them again. He's finally hurt you now, and the cracks are beginning to show.

"Now you know the punishment for failure," he sets the blade on the table, raising his chin with a superior expression.

"I'm sorry- it hurts-" the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. You are only aware of the pain flooding your thigh. How deep did he go?

"I've barely touched you," he tilts his head, moving your thigh to assess the injury. "You're so fragile."

You just stare at him, chewing your lip in an attempt to distract from the pain.

He smirks. "Round two, are you ready?"

You hold eye contact, hoping he can see the utter hatred in your eyes. Like it would make any difference. He takes your silence as a sign to continue, and leans back, thinking. "I work as a messenger. I work in an office. Or I am a mass murderer. Which is the lie?" He says it with an amused smirk on his face, as though he already knows what you are going to pick.

You console yourself and try to think of an answer. Judging by his smug expression, he said must have said the last one as a joke - though, you wouldn't put it past him. "The last one. It's a lie."

His smile falls. His expression turns dark. "Wrong. Again."

Realisation falls on you like a ton of bricks. Slowly, as if it pains him to do so, he grabs the knife off the table. You scream again, tears falling too fast for you to stop them. You pull at the ropes, arching your entire body to escape his grasp, managing to shuffle the chair a few inches. It doesn't help. He grabs the bottom of the chair and wrenches you forwards with one hand, close enough that his knee is planted firmly between your legs.

"The more you scream, the deeper I go." He says, lip curling and his voice husky. You watch helplessly as he brings the blade back down, holding your legs back with his knee. The knife, now stained with the product of your failure, meets your skin. The pain is easier to handle this time, though still just as awful as before. Another thick, seeping line beside the last. Two marks. Two losses.

You hang your head, body heaving with sobs. He makes that same pitying noise, using one finger to lift your chin. You watch him through your eyelashes as he brings the blade to his mouth, running his tongue along the flat edge. Your blood stains his mouth and drips from his tongue. He makes a small, pleased noise, then sets the blade back down, now clean.

Unmistakable arousal clouds his eyes. You're really giving him a show this time. He leans back in his chair, adjusting his trousers. "You're on a bit of a losing streak, aren't you?" His voice is breathy as he rakes his eyes from your wounds to your face, savouring every inch.

"What is it, huh?" You speak up, voice broken. "What's your angle? Why are you doing this?" Desperation seeps into your words and you search his face for any sign of remorse.

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

Your mouth falls open. Hopelessness overwhelms you. There it is. The confession. If he doesn't kill you tonight, he will leave you a bloody mess on this chair, alone and stained and scarred.

The game resumes for several rounds more. Each loss is marked with another line, and you feel yourself growing more distant with every tally mark. His dick pushes harder against his trousers every time he makes you bleed or scream, reminding you of your last meeting. He held out that time, however, and seemed satisfied just by making you cum. But not this time. You knew something was different.

By your fifth loss, he strikes a final line across your thigh, and you feel yourself getting faint. Blood pools on the seat of your chair, dripping from your leg so thickly you can barely distinguish the individual lines. His breath picks up, mouth open wide as you scream once more, leg trembling.

"Fuck it," he grunts. Suddenly, he rips off his blazer and throws it onto the table. It slides away to the other end, and you watch him, terrified at every movement he makes and his plan for you.

It's not what you expect. He bends down, ripping away the binding at your ankles so roughly that it hurts. Then, he moves behind you and tears off the rope at your wrists, too. You freeze for a moment, registering your freedom. You attempt to move, but wince when the pain in your leg overwhelms you. Instead, you rub your wrists, marvelling at the ring of purple bruises on each arm.

He moves back toward his chair, breath fast and heavy, then grabs your waist. He lifts you with ease. You cry out as he hooks two hands beneath your knees and pulls your legs around his torso. Scared that you might fall, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on. He falls back into his chair and you realise the purpose of his hold on you. Your legs straddle his hips, and blood flows from your thigh to stain the fabric of his trousers.

"Fuck," he swear again, looking down at the mess. He releases his hold on you to unbutton his trousers, ripping down his zip quicker than you can see. You whimper, knowing what is to come. The pressure of your leg on his makes the pain worse and the room begins to spin.

You watch helplessly, loosening your grasp on him. His cock springs from his trousers, already hard and dripping with precum. Veins span from the base to his swollen tip. "Look what you've done," he tuts, watching the blood from your leg stain his hands. "Look at the mess you've made."

You sob quietly and watch as he runs a hand down his cock, painting it with your blood. You make a strangled noise when he swipes a finger over the deep slashes on your thigh. He sucks in his breath sharply. "I need to fuck you." He mumbles it so quietly you almost don't hear.

Your head falls back as he lifts you up, lining up his cock with your entrance. He moves your panties aside with one finger, already wet with your own arousal. More and more blood drips onto him and he grunts, gasping slightly as he eases himself inside you. You cry out at the size of him. He's bigger than the gun. Much bigger. He's barely inside you, but the blood on his cock makes it easier for him to slip inside.

"You're so tight," he grunts, gripping your waist with one hand and your thigh with the other. He's barely halfway inside you before he pulls out and rams himself back into you, using the hand on your waist to lift you up. You have no choice but to take him. Your walls tighten around him, and you squeeze your legs together, trying your hardest to fight the discomfort.

Tears fall from your eyes. Your senses are heightened in your last moments of clarity - you feel like you might faint. Somehow, the blood keeps pouring, turning his suit trousers black.

"Don't you dare fucking pass out," he says, gritting his teeth. He squeezes your thigh and you cry out, the pain too much to bear. Your body feels weak.

Still, he fucks you harder, slamming his cock inside you with every thrust. Somehow he goes deeper until you're sure he must be hitting some vital organ. You've never been fucked like this before. You almost forget the pain he just caused you as you buck your hips against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Such a whore. You want it, huh?" He squeezes your ass, lifting you so that you bounce on his lap. Pleasure builds in you, a jarring contrast to the utter agony you felt almost moments ago.

His head falls back hangs off the chair as he thrusts in and out of you. You lift a hand to his face, desperate for something to hold onto, not noticing your fingers are still marked with your own blood. He sees and grips your wrist, sticking a finger into his mouth. He sucks them clean.

"You taste even better than you look," he smirks. He can't hold the expression for long. His eyes roll back slightly when you move your hips over him, making wide circles. You press a hand to his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he lets you keep your grip there, too distracted by the hypnotic movements of your hips. You notice that blood drips from the corner of his mouth, instinctively, you lean in and swipe it off with your tongue. He chuckles darkly.

"You're forgetting yourself," he says, slowing his pace. You make a desperate whimper, raising your hips again to continue the rhythm.

"I'm going to need more motivation than that," he mumbles, bringing his mouth to your collarbone. You slow down, unsure of his intentions.

Still inside you, he parts his lips and sucks at the skin of your neck. He applies intense pressure, sending shocks through your body and you cry out, dropping your head over his shoulder.

"That's it," he says, laughing breathily into your ear.

He doesn't stop despite the fact you wince away from him. He plants firm, harsh marks along your neck, leaving a dark line of bruises to your collarbone. Every time you make a noise, he presses harder, until you're biting your lip just to suppress your whimpers. Then, once he's satisfied, he plants two hands on each thigh, ramming his cock back into you. He grunts loudly with every thrust.

He's rougher this time. The flow of blood slows, but still makes his cock glisten red as he pumps in and out of you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, along with his grunts and your faint whimpers. His increase in pace makes the warmth in your stomach more intense, and you feel yourself on the brink of release. You arch your back, gripping onto his shoulder to keep yourself steady.

He notices you nearing your orgasm and uses his last burst of energy to make you ride him even harder. His hips buck up and down until his cock fills you entirely. You grip onto his tie, finally reaching your climax. You nearly scream as you cum with him still inside you, intense warmth and euphoria rushing through your entire body. He does the same, gasping for breath as he cums inside you, still bouncing your ass on his lap whilst you ride it out.

Your entire body goes limp. You collapse over him, taking in lungfuls of air. The euphoria is quickly replaced by exhaustion and pain. Your entire leg feels sore despite the blood no longer flowing as freely as it did before. He slows to a stop, then pulls his cock out of you. It's still stained red and dripping with his cum, and he grunts at the sight of your cunt, glistening with your own blood and his cum. He has complete control of you now.

"You're fucking crazy," he says, panting. He swipes two fingers over the wounds on your thigh, making you wince as he wipes the last of the blood away. He leans back for a moment as he comes down from his high, pressing a hand to his forehead. Strands of black hair fall over his eyes, damp with sweat.

"Let's take care of these cuts, shall we?" He says, too gently for it to be genuine. He lifts you up, straddling each leg on his waist. He lowers you onto the table, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

He makes a gesture that suggests he will be right back, and leaves the room in the direction of your bathroom. His clear knowledge of the layout of your home is concerning, but you can't find the energy to care. You close your eyes, letting your head hang, trying to suppress the dull thudding pain in your leg.

He returns after a few minutes, holding a medical kit and looking a lot more composed. The lusting look in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by emptiness, and his tie - which you managed to almost pull off earlier - is centred again. Blood still spatters his shirt, and his hair glistens as though he has dampened it and swept it back. You almost feel flattered that he tries to look so presentable for you.

He moves before you, lowering onto one knee. He kneels between your legs and parts your legs gently. Too gently. You wonder for a moment if you're dreaming. If you passed out back there and this was just some fantasy you invented to console yourself. But no. He opens the box and lifts out some alcohol wipes. Absently, you lay a hand on his head, stirring the dark waves. He doesn't look up. Just brings a wipe to your wounds, wiping away the blood. It stings so badly that you grip his hair as tightly as you can. You feel the urge to cry again.

Before you even register it, he places a large plaster over the wounds and pats the site gently, as if congratulating you. He stands up and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You don't even meet his eyes. Your vision is cloudy. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, and you're dangerously close to passing out altogether.

You have a faint memory of him lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. You recall grabbing his arm after he lowered you onto your bed. Then asking, "when will I see you again?"

You couldn't make out his face. His voice was low and gentle. "Call me."

Then he left.

—

You woke up to the sound of the front door opening. Jolting out of bed, you rush to the hallway, hoping against hope. It's your parents. They greet you, smiling, and ask how your day was. You can barely find the words to respond. Your entire body aches, and you nurse the wounds at your neck and wrists to find they're covered by a hoodie you don't remember wearing.

They apologise for leaving and ask if you got their message. You say no. Then you leave in the direction of the dining room to confirm some faint suspicion. The room is completely normal. No blood. No ropes. No knife. Not even a chair is out of place. You press a hand to your forehead.

Later that night, you stare at the plaster on your thigh, the only evidence that the entire situation happened. You peel it back and your head rushes with adrenaline. Five slashes. Still there. You collapse back onto your bed, ignoring the pain that is almost a comfort by now - at least it proves the whole thing was, in fact, real.

Your phone rings. Every normal, human part of you fights back the urge to pick up. But, of course, you do.

The human part of you is long gone by now.

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cybrasigilism · 4 months ago

Text

Cockwarming w/ Squid Game 2 Men (PART ✌️)

characters: kang dae-ho (player 388), lee myung-gi (player 333), hwang jun-ho (the policeman)

red= sub! reader | blue= dom! reader

A/N: no one asked for this but I WANTED TO DO IT! feels right to write for these divas again

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

➤ kang dae-ho (player 388)

➛ poor dae-ho. he really didn’t know how cruel you were going to be with the lack of movement. he had absolutely no idea how agonizing it would be to just sit there, waiting for you to finally ride him.

➛ his hands would travel your body, squeezing any part of you that was within his reach just so he could keep his mind off of the fact that you may as well have been cemented in place on his cock. you had to admit, despite him literally being inside of you, somehow chills still crept across your skin when he softly rubbed circles into your thigh.

➛ he will be begging for you to give it up and move, insisting that he can’t take it much longer.

“please, i need you s’ bad, i ne-need it so bad.”

“i’ll be good i promise, please just make me feel good”

➛ if you’re feeling nice, you could caress his face as you let him know how well he’s doing for you. you could reassure him that his patience will soon be rewarded. while your at it, it would drive him crazy if your hands travelled into his hair and you tugged ever so slightly.

═════════════

➤ lee myung-gi (player 333)

➛ there was something about cockwarming that turned myung-gi into quite the control freak.

➛ he loved that you were so obedient for him this way. you knew that if you held out for a little while longer, that eventually he’d cut the shit and fuck you like you wanted.

“such a good girl. you take directions well, don’t you?”

➛ feeling his cock inside you wasn’t enough for you, and trust that he knows that. the way you would shamelessly fidget on his lap was a dead giveaway, and of course he’d try to hold you still. the pathetic little sounds you let out tugged at his heartstrings sure, but he was having way too much fun with you wrapped around his finger to give in anytime soon.

“is it too much for you? hm? you’re just gonna have to hold out a little longer sweetheart”

“i know, i know. you’re doing so well though, y’ feel so good on me.”

➛ if you thought myung-gi wouldn’t take the opportunity to tease you, even just a little bit— you’d be dead wrong. he won’t be mean with it of course, but he might try to move you himself ever so slightly. just enough to drive you crazy, to beg him for more, then of course he’ll go back to keeping you in place

═════════════

➤ hwang jun-ho (the policeman)

➛ he was definitely unsure of cockwarming at first, confused at the very idea of it. how was it going to feel good if there was no movement? well, he was about to be very shocked

➛ no surprise here, jun-ho will be as gentle with you as possible. if you whine or become a bit restless during the process, his touch is more than enough to bring you back down. he’ll tell you how good you feel and try to take your mind off the lack of friction by kissing your neck, which works momentarily

➛ each time he praises you, you feel yourself come closer to the edge. for someone who was so unsure of the whole ordeal of cockwarming, he remained incredibly calm and collected. ironic how it was that you, the person who suggested this in the first place, were the one falling apart at the seams. his words would make you forget all about that humbling realization, though

“fuck, you still feel so perfect…”

“you’re not even moving, and y’ still drive me crazy.”

“you have absolutely no idea what you do to me.”

═════════════

i fear this one may be a bit lacklustre, but i’m back in that fucking slump and it’s pissing me off. this ones been sitting in the drafts for a bit longer than i had hoped so i wanted to suck it up and just get it out. i hope that you all enjoyed reading it regardless :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism for my writing is appreciated and requested, have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kvstjwonnie @agorsnotworld @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

#squid game 2 #squid game #fanfiction #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #imagines #player 388 #player 388 x reader #kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #player 333 #lee myung gi #lee myung gi x reader #hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader

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fanzou · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!! could you write about sanji dating someone whose old partner only cared about their own happiness (sexually and non sexually) and she starts believing thats how a relationship is supposed to work. sanji shows her it’s not supposed to be like that

Spoil Me!

✗ Pairing: Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Sanji shows you how to be selfish for a change.

✗ Total WC: 4.4K

✗ CW: Angst, Reader being in a manipulative relationship before Sanji, SMUT, Sanji calls reader lots of pet names, Reader cries in good and bad ways (let me know if I missed any), fluff, Nami smacks your butt (my personal favorite part)

✗ A/N: I always see this prompt with other writers and got super anxious just cuz it could get angsty, but I feel that I did somewhat of a good job with this. I’m happy with it! So… enjoy, and thank you so much for this request!

It’s been 2 months since you and Sanji had established yourselves romantically.

And ever his romantic self, Sanji had always done things different with you. Everything was equal, everything was amazing. Everything felt right in his mind. You’d help him with the dishes, you’d help do his laundry, hell—sometimes he’d let you help prepare his favorite dishes with him to serve to the crew. Of course, there had been a select few things that were off limits, like paying for the bill, which he always had you covered, it was but a friendly gesture. You’d return the favor the next time you guys went out, even if he almost fought the waiter about it. (You couldn’t help yourself!)

When it was absolutely pouring and Sanji saw you hadn’t brought a coat in preparation, there was no hesitation in giving his up for you, but you insisted that you and him could both get underneath the coat like an umbrella, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again right then.

Even though he always liked the idea of being the one to take care of his partner, this was something different, something new. He’d grown to appreciate it—the equal friendship you’d shared. And when he realized his new and profound love for you, he felt unstoppable. Suddenly he wanted everything to do with you, and less to do with anything else. It was like he was attached to your hip. Wherever you went he wasn’t so far behind.

So it was a surprise to no one when you both finally decided to get together. He was ecstatic, the smile on his face couldn’t be wiped away for days.

And then it came crashing down.

exhibit A.

You’ve done this 3 nights in a row.

“My heart, you don’t have to worry about the dishes tonight, okay? I’ve already washed and dried them all, just get some rest.” You kiss his cheek and walk away, presumably to your room.

When the door closes, he finally settles back into reality, what he experienced could only be described as shock. He thought it was just a coincidence the first two nights. Maybe you just wanted to go to sleep a little earlier, but Sanji can’t help but feel a pang in his heart. Though it might seem like a boring little chore to an outsider, there was something that filled his heart about being able to do the dishes with you. It was so much more intimate. There was something about being side by side with you, talking and chatting about how your day went, asking you about the crew, if you did anything special that day. It was the little things for him, and he couldn’t relish in his favorite part of the day because of whatever reason you wanted to finish the dishes as early as possible.

You laughed into his shoulder while he told you something funny he encountered that day, “Sanji, that’s crazy!” Your laugh was so bright. Oh, how he loved to hear your sweet laugh, and this was one of those moments he could cherish it, to really savor it with no disruption.

Another time, you’d tease and get some soap on his cheek and he’d rebuttal by getting you a little wet. He giggled at your gasp and put down the wet dishes for a second and put his wet hands around your hip. You didn’t mind, never. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss while his hands soaked your shirt and pants. It was absolute heaven to him, and he didn’t want it any other way.

Surely he hadn’t done something wrong, that had to be impossible. Given your body language, and the way you leaned into him, everything was fine on his part.

He turns around and twists the door knob to the kitchen to follow you to your room, and makes a quick turn to your door.

He opens it and there you are, already dressed in your night gown, ready to sleep. You look exhausted, he looks at you in what you can almost make out to be a pitiful expression. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He walks towards you carefully and lifts your hand into his, and contrary to your tired expression, he can tell you try your utmost to keep an enthusiastic attitude, “Of course! There’s nothing to worry about. You should go to bed Sanj’.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want you to be tired.”

A silence falls, until you continue, “Something bothering you? Do you want me to come to bed with you? So you can sleep?”

Even though you meant well, and to anyone else it would seem thoughtful— the words you had uttered were far from reassuring to him.

exhibit B.

It was a special day, a very special one. Something that you almost didn’t want to celebrate, for whatever reason, but with the way it made Sanji so happy to be able to participate in, you couldn’t help but let him have it.

“Happy Birthday!” The crew says in unison. They just got done singing the most off beat and terrible rendition of what they thought was the happy birthday song, and you loved it. the three layer cake was decorated in the most gorgeous pink you had ever seen. Complimented by pink pearls on the sides with what you can only assume to be the most attentive detail, prepared by your one and only. It was thoughtful, almost so thoughtful that there was a guilt forming in your stomach. Nami picks some frosting off the top and swipes it onto your nose, to which you cutely stare at the middle of your face. She licks the residue off her fingers and in satisfaction, she yells to the cook, “Wow Sanji, this is amazing!” His smile softens when he hears her words. “I’m almost jealous. Where was all this for my birthday?”

“Now hurry up and cut the birthday girl a slice before I eat this entire thing!” Luffy exclaims, and everyone is quick to start arguing with him. “Don’t you dare, you idiot!” Nami yells.

You can only laugh, “My slice? That belongs to Sanji!”

The commotion comes to a silence and everyone looks at you, most of them with confused expressions or blank one’s. Sanji doesn’t understand what you meant, and neither did the others so you continue, “It’s important that he gets the first slice, I almost feel bad that I made you prepare such an amazing cake, I couldn’t possibly be the first one to eat it.”

There was an awkward silence, but he decided to break it. “Darling… it’s your cake. I made it especially for you.” You thought about it for a moment, long and hard, before a memory came back to you:

Y’know I bought this cake for you, so it’s only fair that I get the first piece. A bit selfish of you to try to hog it all up, sweetheart. A woman should always serve her man first, ever heard of that? The voice rings through your ears and you shudder.

You scratch your neck and look off to the side, “I was always taught that it was bad manners for me to take the first slice, please Sanji, would you do me the honors?” You look a little nervous to even be saying that. The swordsman answers before he or anyone else can, “Bad manners? Never heard that one before.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. It would be completely unlike Sanji to ever participate in such a tradition, it would be no exaggeration to say that it made him mildly uncomfortable. But because of the way you look at him with pleading eyes, albeit hesitantly—he cuts himself the first piece, and then the rest for everyone else.

“Alright!” Luffy licks his lips. “Let me know if anyone doesn’t finish theirs!”

“I hope you enjoy it, my love.” You say to him with your hand cupping his face. His eyes widen for a split second.

He doesn’t miss the sad look in your eyes.

exhibit C.

This was something you couldn’t do very often with being on the waters almost all of the time, and when you were on ground there was always a quick and rising conflict that had to be dealt with, so it was difficult for you and your lover to get some alone time.

And the restaurant was absolutely fabulous, violin music playing in the back, the red and orange lights that illuminated the environment were calm and not overbearing, they were dimmed just right to fit the seductive atmosphere that you and Sanji both basked in. The food was amazing as well, something he couldn’t say about many restaurants. He wasn’t crazy about this island, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some great food here.

“You look beautiful, dear. This dress is absolutely perfect on you.” Sanji says simply, but it dusts a blush on your face, one that he wishes he could see, but the ambient light does good to mask it, much to his disappointment. He liked leaving you flustered. “You look handsome, but you know that.”

“I like to hear it from you. ‘Makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.” He purrs. You don’t miss the way his feet glide against yours, and the hungry look he gives you.

Like he almost wants to take you then and there. And suddenly the mood changes—from romantic to sexual. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that you want to get familiar with, but this is a restaurant, and he had enough food. “I think we should get out of here, my love.” Not taking his gaze from yours, “I’m hungry for something else.”

“I paid the bill already, baby, so we can bounce whenever you want.” You say with an eagerness in your tone, trying to match his energy.

Sanji looks nothing like he did a second ago, he’s confused and almost surprised, sad and angry all at the same time. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. He didn’t want you to pay, that’s far from what he wanted you to do. He wanted to pay the bill, and then take you to the nearest hotel and make you feel special. “What do you mean you paid?” His tone is stern now.

“Sanj’, I was taught that it was bad manners to have a man— y’know… pay… ‘cause they do all the work. Y’know? And…” you continue, but Sanji cancels your voice out for a second. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, you don’t want to look at him anymore, in fear of what he would say to you. You thought you had done the right thing but it probably wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied.

It’s all the same.

Honestly, he didn’t care about whatever bullshit manners anyone’s ever taught you. It’s something that he didn’t approve of. Sanji digs his hand in his hair, he’s frustrated. He loves you, he really does. But this is suuuuch a turn off. As a friend he could take you paying the bill after his countless times doing so, despite his absolute reluctance in letting you do it. It was much more different now that you were finally together. He didn’t want to be upset with you, perhaps you misunderstood, that was all. Your anxiety grew as Sanji stayed quiet, you could tell he was frustrated and you didn’t understand why. No worries, it’s nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you feel good tonight if you’ll let me?” You say with hopeful eyes, and his gaze finally meets yours, but you quickly realize that it’s not enough to satisfy his needs, he just looks at you with a pitiful expression like he had the other few instances you suggested something like this. “My love… if you’ll let me be honest. I don’t really care about whatever dumb manners you had to learn growing up or whoever ingrained those dumbass ideologies into your pretty little head.” He takes your hands, “You’re with me, and I want to be able to make you feel like the most special girl alive.”

You were nervous, and you felt like your nails digging into your palm were bound to break through skin soon, you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip with your brows furrowed. Should you tell him? The last couple weeks of establishing your relationship was nothing short of a fantasy, but you didn't let yourself enjoy it like you wanted to in fear of coming off as selfish.

Would you be able to get the bill this time, babe? I'm a little short.

Ahh, short again. Well I did buy you that one thing... So you can maybe think of this as your payback!

I do enough for our relationship. You can pay this time, don't be greedy.

"Sanji..." you trail off, looking down at your lap once again, "The last guy I was with, he insisted that I did every thing, but the more I'm with you the more that I realize that it was probably very unnatural, to do everything for him. And I'm sorry, but I'm just now learning that." a tear trickles down your cheek. "I'm learning to unlearn this stuff, and I need your help."

He's no longer frustrated, but he can hear his heart break in his chest.

"I'll be here with you, my love. Every step of the way."

the breakthrough

It’s pushing 90 degrees today on the Sunny, and it goes without saying; everyone and everything is hot, scorching even. On days like this, or, who was he kidding? Any day, Sanji will whip up something to help the ladies feel better about any nasty weather they’re in, and while you three bask in the sunlight in your guys’ bikini’s. He loved the sight. And he most certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all day.

You sported a 2-piece, the bottom half barely covered by some unbuttoned jean shorts and because of how hot it was out, there was a thin layer of sweat that coated your form which helped accentuate every curve of your body. He watched from a distance for most of the day, almost avoiding you in fear of pouncing on you in front of everyone. You were so sexy, and he almost felt perverted like this.

He had brought over some drinks for you and Nami and Robin to help somewhat alleviate the heat you had all felt, and you three thanked him kindly, but you noticed that same glint in his eyes, the same from the night at the restaurant. A super-duper mischievous one, and you promised you’d familiarize yourself with it. You wanted so desparately get up and take him to your bedroom and let him have his fun-- but you stopped yourself, like Sanji wanted; you to enjoy your time with the girls and not to worry about anything he was making in the kitchen, what he had to clean up, that fun stuff.

“He’s practically devouring you with those eyes he’s giving you.” Robin speaks, and it leaves you a little embarrassed, laying your head down onto the beach towel, he hasn’t been so discreet about the way he was ogling you.

“Yeah well, ‘second I’m done with this drink we’ll see where it takes us.” The girls giggle, and you clink your glasses together in a silent cheers. In truth, you were nervous, but you did well to mask it. “He’s one lucky guy!” Nami says, playfully smacking your butt.

Finally, he has you all to himself.

You guys are making out in his bed, and he’s so hard he could die. You’re palming him through his shorts and he moans into your mouth. “Fuck, baby.” At this point your jean shorts were easily discarded onto the floor while he slowly but surely makes his way to untying your bikini. He wants it all off. And he’s not shy about it. “Finally.” He makes work of untying your top piece, and you get lost in pleasure. Your tits are even prettier than he thought, and he licks your bud before starting to suck on it. You already feel your heat pooling through your lower piece. “Th-at feels so… so good Sanji. Yes…” You’ve never felt so sensitive, but with the way Sanji was attacking your breasts all while caressing your hips, coupled with the heat, it felt like so much at one time.

Before you get lost in the absolute euphoria that is Sanji, you become aware of one fact,

This simply just isn’t about you. Those words ring like a bell in your head in the midst of the pleasure, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you let Sanji do all the work? It was so selfish of you to let yourself think that you could relish in this. After all, it’s all about him. Only, about him.

Women aren't even meant to cum, so don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart.

Trying to push away the thought, you softly cup your hand around his cheek and bring him to your lips to assert yourself.

“This is about you.” You quickly straddle his hips and grind on top of him and he groans at that, craving the new friction you gave him. you looked sexy like this, but he wanted this to go his way this time.

In an act of complete rebuttal, Sanji flips you around and you yelp, he lets out a breathless laugh “Yeah, right.” You’re on your back now, and he spreads your legs. He keeps his eyes on your cunt, looking down at it deliciously, and finally he starts stroking it through the only fabric left on your body, up and down with his thumb. You can’t help but let out a moan, this was new, you were used to being demanded--but not in this way. “San…ji… this isn’t fair to you, ba—”

The audible groan that comes out of him was loud and proud. “So tired of hearing that come from your mouth.” He gently moved your underwear to the side and started rubbing your bare clit. “You know what I think is bad manners?” He looks at you, “When I can’t make you feel like the princess you are.” You can’t help but moan, it was obvious you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

When he presses your thighs against your torso, you're almost shocked, you assume that he’d start to pull his pants down and have his way, but instead, his head comes down to meet your cunt face to face, he pressed kisses on your inner thighs and the sight is so very romantic, you feel so selfish, so very selfish.

It feels amazing.

When his tongue takes its first long swipe across your cunt, it felt dirty, and sooo good. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in and not long after he started his attack on your clit, lapping and sucking on it like a madman. “Sanji… yes.” You moan his name over and over coupled with some curses, and his hands grip tighter onto your thighs. His squelching and sucking, the sounds are so lewd, and you can feel his drool mixed with your juices trickle all the way down to the mattress. The image would forever be ingrained into your head, it was too perfect.

Sanji starts prodding into your cunt with one finger, and then inserts another, scissoring and fucking them into you while you shake under his wrath. “That feels so good, more, pleaseeee.” He meets your gaze and you want to melt at how he looks at you; like you were his lifeline. You feel a knot form in your stomach, something almost unfamiliar to you. You couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm unless it was from your own fingers.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum on mine.” And the fact that he would be the reason behind it made him only hungrier. "I can't... Baby... It’s so much. I think I might… ohhhhh…." Your mix of Sanji's and Fuck's and Yes' only grew breathier and more demanding. "Cum on my face, please, yes." He begs you and his tongue goes faster over your clit.

When you finally bust, you can only mutter a "Mmmmmmmyesssss" with a heaving chest that followed suit, hips grinding into his tongue so you could ride out your orgasm. Your face was in absolute bliss, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth a little opened from how good it felt. It's almost too much for you, he gives your cunt a few more licks before getting up and massaging your thighs with his thumbs.

"Did that feel good, princess? I'm sorry if it was a little rough." He comes down to your lips and gives you quick kiss.

"Please fuck me Sanji. I need you inside of me, please."

Who was he to deny his princess?

He kisses your lips again while making quick work of the tied knot on his shorts, he didn't even realize how hard he was until he took his shorts off, cock still in his briefs.

Sanji takes off your stretched out underwear and throws it on the floor once and for all, and his own meet yours soon after.

His cock was very long—8 inches, if you had to guess. Curved upright, and it was beautiful, but you'd be lying if you had said that you weren't a little afraid of taking it. Luckily he catches your gaze and he smiles, "You nervous, princess?"

"Just a little bit..."

"Don't be, I'll take it slow." Had you not spilled to him that night about your failure of a previous relationship, he would've taken you for a virgin the way you trembled looking at his dick. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and frustration you had endured in your previous relationship, telling him about how he never let you cum and only sought to chase his own pleasure. He was willing to change that, and right now—he’d be damned if he said the way you look at it didn't turn him all the way on. "Watch it go in. Trust me my love, it's not that bad."

You listen and nod, and you watch with him. He lets it slide across your pulsing heat a couple times before he lets his head slowly slide in, he's biting his lip and lets his own line of curses come out of his mouth. When he's about half way in, another breath you didn't know you were holding lets itself out, and another inch, and another, until he's all the way inside, and saying you felt stuffed was really an understatement.

He takes the back of your knees in your hands and spreads them a little further, he starts moving slowly and you both let your sighs of pleasure out.

He starts to pick up his pace when you ask him to, not too quick but steady enough for you to feel every detail of his cock graze your insides. Because of the heat, it's not long until you're both covered in sweat.

He can't help himself, he comes down to kiss you again and talk you through the moment.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever met."

"You look so perfect right now."

The praises were too much and you felt insanely spoiled, something you've never felt before. The slapping of skin, the closeness you felt to him, his cock steadily coming out of you, only for it to stuff you full over and over again. The way he kept his eyes on yours, it was so much. And before you knew it, tears ran down your cheeks, ones of pleasure and joy--you couldn't tell which was which.

"I love you so much, S-Sanji."

He kisses your tears away, "I love you more, princess. You're doing amazing." Kisses your lips, but not for too long as he doesn’t want to mask your beautiful sounds.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Are you gonna cum soon? I wanna see it again.”

Now, Sanji’s thrust are sloppier but a little more harder, you can tell he’s probably going to approach an orgasm soon along with you.

“Y-Yes. Ohhhhhh fuuuucckkk~”

“You take me so well, princess. You were made for me.” The clapping between your bodies gets louder, and you try your hardest to bury yourself into the pillow from how good it felt. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, like you always do, even though he looks disheveled; mouth covered in juices and spit, there’s beads of sweat running down his face, he really loves this moment with you.

“Tell me you love me” he says.

“I love you.” His thrusts are inconsistent now, but he’s still hitting the same spongy spot inside of you.

“Again.”

“I love you, Sanji. Ohhh, shit.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much! So, so much! I’m gonna cum again! Mhhh!”

And just like you spoke, you came all over him, it hit his chest, his balls, thighs, and all over the mattress, and he fucks some of it back into you while he follows you in reaching his own orgasm.

Before he can, he pulls out of you and releases the hot white liquid onto your stomach, stroking his dick til there was nothing left in him to give.

Completely disregarding the fact that he just came all over your stomach, he collapses onto you and joins you in almost synchronized breaths. “That was… amazing…” you managed to say. “Thank you so much.”

Sanji rolls over and pulls you onto his chest, “You deserve everything and more, that was only a fragment of how much I appreciate you, sweet thing.”

To his surprise, you get up from your position and look at him. You scan his body and come to one conclusion, “I should probably clean you up a bit.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but instead he takes your arm and yanks you down with him in the same position you were before. “If I’m gonna be dirty, I’ll be dirty with to you. But if you wanna take a bath with me, that’s a different story” once again, that mischievous undertone in his voice is something you can’t miss.

You’ve still got a long way to go, but he’ll be there with you through every step.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #law x reader #law trafalgar x reader #law trafalgar

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pinkgy · 6 months ago

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idk if u take requests but is it possible for u to write whb x reader that often wears revealing clothes? if u dont take requests then u can ignore this 💗 hope u have a good day!!

Hi ! Thank u so much for requesting !!

Sorry if it's too short :( Since it lacks a scenario I don't have much to write about this, so it ended up this way, also I read your other ask where you said something about this post being with a Fem Reader a bit late ... Like 5 minutes ago by the time I'm writing this, but I tried fixing it a little, sorry about that too.

Since you didn't ask for any specific characters for this post I took some creative liberties and did the kings and added 2 little bonuses with two of my fave nobles ;)

"𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

𝗖𝗪: Kinda suggestive (Asmo's fault), tried my best to not make them red flags, bare with me, Fem Reader coded but only in some parts, Kings being kinda possessive, wear whatever you want queen don't let any man disrespect your style.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

He won't complain, but you can see in his face that he's not thaaat into your fashion choices.

It's not that you look bad, the opposite, you look too good, way too good actually, but he knows other devils that have two eyes and functioning brains think the same, and that's what infuriates him.

Satan trusts you and knows that your eyes and your heart are placed on him and only him, but still, other devils lusting over you is something that gets on his nerves to the point where he wishes he had thousands of legs to kick all of them.

But since that's impossible and he wouldn't dare to vocally manifest his disagreement, then you'll have to settle for reassuring him constantly that he has nothing to worry about, until your words eventually get to his head and he makes a switch in his mindset.

He'll leave you to do as you please, and in case anyone dares to give you any nasty looks, he has two fists and very strong legs to beat up anyone who dares to disrespect you.

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

Doesn't give a fuck, it's your body at the end of the day, you are even free to walk around naked if you want to.

He buys you tons clothes, and if you don't like them he'll give you his card so you can buy them yourself, he's your biggest supporter, and he'll even get you your personal seamstress so you can get the best quality and original clothes that suit your style and your likes perfectly.

Mammon doesn't get bothered by others staring at you, they're his too so why should he care? Their greed to have you fuels him, but knowing that he's the one that owns you and that gets to be as greedy as he wants with you gets him going like nothing else.

He might get worried that you may catch a cold by wearing your preferred style during low temperatures, but Tartaros is a country with outstanding technological advances, he'll find a way to make you heated clothes or anything else so you can still wear what makes you comfortable without getting sick.

Or he could just share his natural body heat with you by carrying you everywhere in his arms, you choose ;)

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

Loves everything about you, EVERYTHING, there's no reason why your clothing decisions should be any of his business, and he probably wouldn't even notice, until he does and just tells you how hot you look.

Beelzebub might not notice what you're wearing, but he does notice others looking at you (sometimes), but he couldn't care less until the looks turn into something else, that's when he bothers, but it's nothing that his flies can't solve.

Since a big part of his fashion choices lean towards the more revealing side, he would let you borrow some of his clothes, but make sure to return them unwashed tho, though Beelzebub insisted that if they didn't fit you you could get them fixed by a seamstress, but they wouldn't fit him anymore so why does he want them back?

Beelzebub thinks it's an amazing deal, you get to have his clothes that fit your style perfectly, and in exchange, he gets to have them back but drenched in your scent, what a great businessman he is.

He also likes to get you both matching clothes, take it as one of his love languages, he might forget about a lot of things, but he'll NEVER forget to get you something cute that he thinks you'll love on one of his trips.

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

You would have to give him some time.

He tries, he really tries, you would have to explain to him a thousand times that you dress the way you prefer because you want and not because of others until he finally understands that he doesn't have to hang every devil that steals a glance at you.

Eventually Leviathan will begrudgingly understand, if 100 devils stare at you, he won't hang all of them, maybe 20 if he's in a good mood.

He'll also stop telling you to take off your clothes or to cover up, and he'll just give you dirty looks and shut up, be patient okay? Be grateful he's trying.

Eventually (And after reassuring him for god knows how long) Leviathan will realize that at the end of the day, you're his, and no one will take that title away from you, and the ones who should be feeling jealous are them and not him, so he'll just let them envy you both, he's still gonna hang those who's stare lingers at you for too long tho, you don't have a say in that, good luck.

𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗚𝗢𝗥

If that's what you like, go on, he pays no mind to such a thing, that's your body and he has no right to complain about it, and even if he did, that's too much of a hassle anyways.

It's not like he goes outside that much to notice others lusting at you, but he knows, it's just that he's too lazy to do something about it, he trusts you tho so he knows that he has nothing to worry about because, in the end, he knows you would rather cuddle for hours with him that pay attention to some lowly devil.

If your normal body temperature tends to lean towards the warmer side Belphegor won't leave you alone, because more skin showing= More skin to lay on to sleep.

He'll have Beleth buy you some clothes that maybe are too revealing to wear outside so you can model them to him in private, Belphegor may get a bit annoyed at first because Beleth seems to know your style too well, but that feeling goes away once he sees you, thank god Beleth knows you so well.

Bonus points if you manage to get your hands on a very bold cosplay of one of his favorite characters of an anime or Hentai and wear it around him, you'll have the king of sloth wrapped around your finder as you step into his room.

𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗥

Way more into it than what you would expect, it's your body and there's no reason to hide it, God created humans to not be ashamed of themselves, and Lucifer was proud that you were following his word.

Lucifer enjoys staring at you from a considerable distance as others stare at you and your revealed skin, maybe he does that just to feed his pride, poor lowly devils as they look at something they will never get to have, something that only he owns.

Contrary to others, Lucifer will give you his honest opinion if you ask for it, he would enjoy dressing you up in cute clothes, and he'll even get you some himself and feel like the proudest demon in hell when you wear them.

Just because he enjoys the boost of pride that others staring at you gives him doesn't mean he won't get possessive towards you, there's a limit to everything, and there's a difference between just staring and giving lusty looks and touching (or trying to touch) he draws the line there and those devils will face ruthless consequences.

His main worry is that you may catch a cold if you wear such revealing clothes in cold weather, that's the only time when he'll encourage you to cover yourself, and maybe he'll even try to force you to do it if you refuse, but he's worried okay? There's no ill intentions behind that.

𝗔𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗗𝗘𝗨𝗦

You could wear a sack of potatoes and he would still get turned on.

Lust is like fuel to him, so he doesn't mind others staring at you, that would just turn him on more, and to think that they can't have you because all of your lusty self is reserved for him and only him? Damn, he must stop thinking about that or he'll get hard.

If you were thinking that Asmodeus would behave normally around you when you have such "pleasing to the eye" clothing preferences you are terribly wrong, and covering yourself more won't make it any better, the damage was already done once his eyes landed on you

Also, more revealing clothes>more skin showing>less clothing>easier to take off.

We all know that he would rather have you naked, but since you may be against that then this works too.

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦

𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗦

Foras wouldn't take his eyes off you, ever, but he's a bit too shy to stare at you, so he often turns invisible so he can look at you all he wants without getting embarrassed.

He would LOVE to go shopping with you, if what you want is a partner who gives you a critical opinion about what you try on then Foras isn't for you because he would just tell you how beautiful everything looks on you and say that you look stunning in every singly synonym of that word that exists.

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡

It would take some time until Gamigin is finally used to your clothing preferences, in fact, he won't get fully used to it ever, but seeing you happy with your body makes him happy too, so he doesn't care.

Loves it when you model your outfits to him as he sits on your bed staring at you completely lovestruck, eventually he won't even pay attention to what you're wearing, and his gaze is only focused on you.

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retiredteabag · 6 months ago

Text

Unknown Rivals

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: There was only one thing worse than being paired with Sukuna for an important school project, and that was realizing the slacker somehow had a higher class standing than yourself.

Tags: Academic rivals, enemies to eventual lovers, type A reader, mentions on anxiety.

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been partnered with Sukuna for weeks now, and you were starting to lose it. After turning in your draft for the final presentation, you had learned of your classmates status as a student.

After having assumed that every meeting the two of you held was more of a free tutoring session for the lazy man, it would turn out Sukuna was the only student in class who was rivaling your own grades.

After this information had been absorbed, you left class without so much as a glace the boy's way.

It killed you to know that he was so nonchalant, that he barely put any effort into class and work yet he was up there with you.

He likely thought you a fool, all that time "teaching" him, he probably spent mocking you.

You couldn't help the flood of thoughts that overtook you, thoughts of him mocking you to his friends, thoughts of him screenshotting your messages to send to some group chat, thoughts of him making jeers at your intellect while you explain a concept ad nauseam.

Oh, how you hated him.

It didn't help that you so desperately craved approval from others. Teachers, friends, parents. You wanted it all. If you hadn't their validation, what did you have?

You worked tirelessly to earn the grades you maintained, even if people teased you, called you stuck up, or a sycophant. Was it so wrong to want to be liked?

And here he was, above it all, putting little to no effort into his work and still coming out on top.

He must have found it real funny. Probably had a good laugh every Friday when you met to "work" on your project.

That is why you found yourself writing up a short email, explaining how you no longer had an interest in meeting with him to prep. Requesting he develop his final presentation alone and informing him that from that day forward you would research, write, and present separately.

You hadn't even requested he send in his work for your review, though he had never done it before. No, you would do your part as far away from Sukuna as you possibly could and hope he never looked your way again.

This project was a big deal, you would be presenting it not just to your classmates and professors, no, but company stakeholders as well. They would be coming out to the auditorium to see students speak during finals. Some might even be looking for possible interns.

Apparently Sukuna knew what he was doing so maybe you didn’t need to monitor his work.

You were still going to stress about it though.

"UGH! I just cringe to think of every conversation. Why was he even meeting with me?"

You and your roommate had gone out for dinner and you were regaling her with the woes of your school project while she dipped her fries in a generous coating of milkshake.

"That boy looks like he's never held a coherent thought in his head, I doubt he cared to spare any consideration to something other than himself." She spoke with her mouth full, taking another bite, "He looks pretentious."

She wiped her fingers off on her jeans and reached for another handful of fries.

"But that's just the thing" You sigh, "he looks like he wouldn't handle complex thought but-" you're cut off by her giggle but you push onward, "-I'm serious! But he's apparently some wonder boy, a reeeeeal academic." You end your thought with a huff, dipping a nugget into some ketchup, and finishing your meal.

"Well now your Fridays are free, that's nice at least." She shrugs and all you can do is nod. "Who would have thought popular Sukuna is a nerd like you."

"He's not a nerd." You point a finger at her, "He doesn't even study! And I don't get why everyone likes him, he pays nobody the time of day."

"Are you kidding me?" She makes an incredulous laugh, raising her browns.

"What?"

"You haven't the slightest clue why he's so popular? Have you seen the man?"

As much as you hate to admit it... she was a little right. He was undeniably attractive. And his tattoos stretched across his body in a way that made him look like art. He wasn't a peacock either, flaunting himself, he seemed indifferent to the whole thing. He really was just one lucky bastard.

I seriously hate that guy.

The next week was filled with your typical busyness, avoiding your project partner didn't really occupy too much space in your mind, especially since he hadn't taken the curtesy to even respond to your email.

That was why, when you eventually saw him straighten his posture the second you entered the shared class, him stalking your movements carefully, you couldn't help but feel frustrated.

Did he say anything? No. Did he try to get your attention? No. But he kept looking at you, and every so often during the lecture, you could feel his gaze in your direction. Serving to annoy you further. He could pay no attention in class and still catch up to your academic level.

Stop being a distraction.

Ugh.

After the last fiasco with this professor, you weren't exactly looking forward to sharing a word so you found yourself packing up the moment class was over. It hadn't even taken you putting away your folder for you to feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You narrowed your eyes in his direction. Sukuna spoke.

"We should probably discuss the presentation."

This might have been the most you had ever heard him say at a time. About school or otherwise.

"I sent you an email, you know?"

You shuffle your bag to fit everything comfortably and zip it up. Continuing on, "We already split everything up, if you'd like to see my slides so you can match my format you'll find them in the email I sent." You swung your bag over your shoulder, "Last week."

You were making your way to the classroom door, fully prepared for him to shrug it off, but he seemed to have kept up with your pace, speaking down into your ear as you made it to the threshold.

"I've looked over your slides. That's not what I'm talking about." He followed behind you, opening the classroom door wider to stand next to you.

"Sukuna. I emailed you. I've emailed you several times. What about our project do we need to discuss that you couldn't have just emailed me about?" You try to keep your voice down, your professor was still at his desk.

"Shouldn't we... I don't know, be practicing?" He shrugs.

"...What?"

"Practicing? For our presentation? I don't know, I figured you would be the type to want things to flow smoothly."

You pull back, "I do want things to flow smoothly, like I already stated in the email, I am going to present first, then wait for questions, and then you'll go and do the same."

He raises a brow, "I got that." The way he looks at you and speaks so patronizingly distinct as if to suggest you were the slow one. "I'm just saying, we should practice at least once, I want to make sure you can do it."

It took you a moment to understand what he had just said. No way, NO WAY he had just suggested that YOU didn't know what you were doing. You bark out a laugh. "I'm sorry? You want to make sure I can do it?"

He stands still, looks up at the ceiling, and hums, "Well, you're so anal about stuff, I figured you'd want to."

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, "I'm sorry I like things to be done right." You swing your bag a little more aggressively. "I'll send you my presentation notes so you can make sure I can do it."

You start to march down the hall, offended by his lackadaisical insults when he swoops up to you in just a few strides. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying.... wouldn't it soothe your anxiety to go over it together? I don't think it's wrong to suggest that we would do better after having gone over it at least once."

Oh sure, he was thinking about your anxiety, how kind. You roll your eyes.

You saw him out of your periphery and clutched your bag to your chest as he approached. When you turned to see him he had his arms raised in defense. "If you really care so much I'll add my slides to the presentation and send it to you."

"Good." You swung back. "I've only been asking for," you roll your eyes, walking backward to one of the campus exits, "oh, I don't know, weeks?"

"Fine." He huffed, squinting at you, "But we seriously should go over it so I can be sure you don't ruin my work with your public speaking." He was smirking at you, you had never seen that look on his face and you hoped never to see it again.

"Oh-" You gasp, "my gosh." You stomp away, whipping out your keys, "Thanks Sukuna, I'll try not to ruin all your hard work since you're such a team player."

That man was dead to you.

You would never say it to his face, but as finals approached, you were beginning to feel the typical sickness in your stomach. You made recordings of your note cards to listen to at night, practiced your speech endlessly, and changed the batteries in your clicker at least three times.

You had always been anxious, memories of puking before tests as a child still live on in the churning of your gut. This anxiety helped to motivate you but was unnecessarily intense, your own mother had told you to loosen up in the past but that was simply not something you were capable of controlling.

"Well, you're so anal about stuff-"

Oh, that man pissed you off. And after all that effort to seem cool and composed in all of your "tutoring" sessions, he could still tell that you cared. Cared more than you should.

You would never be the cool girl.

And this was why you were growing more upset with the understanding that you felt- you knew you really would feel better if you could just have the chance to practice your speeches.

But your pride had gotten in the way.

Couldn't he have just said that he wanted to practice instead of making it seem like he didn't believe in you?

His email did come, by the way. No words, just an attachment.

And damn him, the slides we good, not too crowded, and perfectly concise, he even had his speaker notes included and as you whispered them to yourself while sitting on your mattress you became determined.

You would not let this man outperform you. There would be employers present looking for interns and if you wanted to be noticed you could not be seen as the weak leak between the two of you. Especially not if it was Sukuna.

You started your email at 11 that night and rewrote for far too long.

Yes, you would practice your presentation with him, because and ONLY because you wouldn't allow him to drag you down.

It would also help settle your nerves, but he didn't need that confirmation.

It was on. Partner or not, you were fighting for the top spot in class and if your speaking ability fell short in comparison to his, you could not ever stand to look at him again.

But one thing you knew for sure as you sent the email, was that your advisor would be receiving some correspondence about avoiding a certain someone in future semesters.

It was past midnight. You started drafting a note about your class enrollment needs.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags: @blueyesuguru @monimonster57

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eden031 · 3 months ago

Text

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Jack Abbot x female! intern! reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual content is described (not explicit), one night stand, medical inaccuracies, Jack Abbot being soft (I guess), mentions of vomiting (I promise no one is pregnant)

!MDNI 18+ content!

Summary: Meeting Jack Abbot twice for the first time was not on her bucket list, especially not after how their unoffical first meeting ended.

A/N: Heyy so, this was something else I wanted to write for Abbot. I am currently thinking about writing a second part for this, but I am not sure yet. I think it would be interesting, depending on how this is recieved I might write a second part :) Also the first part of this fic is more like looking back at the events that took place, again Jack might be a bit ooc, so please forgive me

She had met Jack Abbot in a bar for the very first time. It was one of those dimly lit, smelling like beer and wood, kind of bar, the kind of bar that served cheap drinks and was frequented by people that wanted to get drunk and have a good time. Just having finished med school, still waiting until her residency program would start. Her friends had wanted to celebrate, she had wanted to as well, there was a reason to after all. It had taken some convincing, especially since her friends had been rather insistent on an outfit she would never have chosen for herself.

Spotting the older man from across the bar had almost been like a moment of total clearness, like someone had flipped a switch in her mind. The wavy, salt and pepper hair, the beautiful features, the man had caught her attention without even trying. He had been staring into his glass, like he was miles away in a completely different plane of reality, maybe that was what had drawn her to him, or maybe it was that this man looked like he had stepped straight out of a painting.

Putting on her best smile she had sauntered over to him, trying to appear as confident as possible. As she did that she internally thanked her friends for the beautiful outfit she was now in. She bought him a drink before she even introduced herself, that had earned her a raised brow at first, then a slight smile. He had told her his name, his first name only back then. The first thing he had asked her then was how old she was. She had told him the truth, twenty six, he had been uncertain, but the moment she started chattering about the beauty of devotion to one‘s beliefs he seemed to have leaned back and given her a chance. Talking for hours with him she felt like something clicked between them, something was extremely right when they talked. At some point his hand had found her thigh, they began facing each other and their conversation flowed on. She felt guilty about having abandoned her friends, but the moment she glanced back towards where they were sitting one of them gave her a thumbs up. All of them looked in her direction and the thumbs up and happy smiles only grew more and more in the group.

The talking for almost four hours had landed her at his place, a hot mouth on hers before the door was even closed properly. None of the surfaces of his apartment had been left unused, except for the kitchen counter, though she had gotten that more than she probably should. At the end of the night her legs were shaking violently and the warm blanket wrapped around her, the warmth of him more comforting than it probably should be. For a man his age, she had joked while they laid in bed together after many rounds of very good sex, he had an impressive stamina. After that comment he had snorted and eaten her out like a man starved. Laying there with him she had looked at him, his face looked more relaxed then, his eyes on her face as she gently brushed his cheek with her knuckles.

“I wish I could freeze this moment in time,” she had whispered and he had smiled at that, simply kissing her, though he had never returned the sentiment verbally, but she had felt it through the kiss.

The next morning they had eaten breakfast together, it was nothing fancy, just some toast and cheese, but it had felt just right as they drank from his old beaten up coffee mugs, while chatting about this and that. She had given him her number and left around noon that day, the tension between them still crackling like it had the night before. Not sure if she should expect a call or not and if she should just move on with her life as she arrived at her own apartment.

——————————-

The dark blue scrubs hung loosely on her body, the elastic in the pants keeping them from falling, the only things that were keeping her from going insane over the fabric were the compression socks and the thermo undershift she was wearing. A stethoscope wrapped around her neck she stepped into the ED of the PTMC. It was busy, people running around, the voices of patients filling the room with a mixture of low groans and moans, but also light giggles from medication, staff was standing together, chattering away as she moved across the room.

This was her first day of residency, well her official first day of residency would have been last week, but she had been throwing up the entire weekend, as well as in the entirety of the day of her official first day, so she had called the admin staff and called in sick. The worst thing about that being that that day had been the day of the Pitt Fest shooting, she had felt guilty, but then decided that feeling guilty would not get her anywhere and her having to vomit constantly wouldn‘t have been helpful in any case.

As she walked towards the nurses‘ desk she saw an older man standing in front of a computer, hunched over slightly, black framed glasses resting on his nose, a dark hoodie thrown over his scrubs, he looked weirdly familiar, but she couldn‘t place his face. His dark hair was styled upwards and the beard had some white hairs in it, though the wrinkles around his eyes were deep, he looked about six or so years older than Jack, she shook her head, she had to stop thinking about him, it had almost been a month since she had seen him.

„Excuse me?“ she asked carefully, stepping towards him, not wanting to startle the man. He looked up from the desktop, his dark eyes glimmering in the white light of the ED. “Dr. Robinavitch?” she tilted her head to the side.

“Yes, that is me,” he laughed slightly as he smiled at her. Quickly she gave him her name and his face lit up.

“Ah, yes! It is good to see you back on your feet.” he looked over at the nurse in the nurses’ station, blonde hair and she could see she had a black eye.

“Thank you,” she laughed nervously.

“So this is our charge nurse, Dana, the most important person you are going to meet today,” he looked around, seeing a group of three women and one man coming their way, he waved them towards them. Quickly she introduced herself to them. She learned that the young woman with the dark hair and clear eyes was Trinity Santos, an intern. Melissa or rather Mel King, an R2, with the most adorable smile and charming optimism. Victoria Javadi, who seemed to suffer from imposter syndrome more than anything else and such an inviting personality that it almost made her want to cry, she was an MS3. Dennis Whitaker, who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and seemed to be a bit awkward, though it was rather endearing, an MS4.

Dr. Robinavitch or rather Dr. Robby, how he was also called, sent you along with Dr. Heather Collins for most of the day. She was a nice woman with whom she got along rather well. Since she was an R1 she still needed guidance in certain areas and was mostly supervised by someone, not all the time thought.

The day turned out to be rather eventful and gruelling in its own way, she had been spit on, shouted at, a patient had smeared poop in her hair, a worried parent had accidentally elbowed her in the stomach, the hit and run victim she had helped treat had died, a toddler that had somehow gotten the child safety cover off the outlet had put a fork in it and shocked himself was in a coma, a patient had slapped her ass as she was trying to treat his head injury, she had nearly peed her pants because she did not get the chance to go to the bathroom, Santos was incredibly annoying, another patient had asked her if she would suck him off if he paid her the right amount and the list only went on the later it was, another patient died from internal bleeding from multiple stab wounds, no chance for lunch or a drink in between cases. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was already past eight, meaning that theoretically her shift was over, but apparently things kept coming her way and all hands were needed.

From what Santos had told her, the senior attending from night shift was already there, but she had yet to see the man. Trinity had told her that he was an incredible teacher, someone that was worth working with. Since the night shift was already there she also met Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen and their charge nurse Brigit.

As she made her way towards the nurses’ station she felt herself beginning to sway, the fact that she had not had a single sip of water since she had eaten breakfast that morning or the fact that she had not eaten anything in over twelve hours explained the dizziness. She also hadn’t sat down in the same amount of time. Stumbling slightly she felt herself loose her footing on the floor of the ED she reached out for something to hold onto while she prepared to hit the ground. She felt two strong hands on her arm and hip pulling her upright before she was able to fall, the feeling of hitting a strong chest made her breath in sharply.

Turning her head to face her saviour she practically let out a screech as she saw Jack holding her tightly.

“Holy shit!” she practically shouted. It was not because of his great reflexes nor was it because she was glad she hadn’t fallen, no that was because she was face to face with Jack again. Some faces turned their way as he supported her to get her to sit down somewhere and she did, taking a seat on one of the chairs she stared at him, with her mouth slightly agape as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She heard Princess and Perlah mutter something between them in Tagalog, knowing that it was probably the gossip mill already beginning to move. Before Jack could ask her anything Mel was already hurrying to the nurses’ station.

“Are you alright? I saw you almost falling!” Mel came over to her, looking extremely worried.

“Yeah, everything alright,” she continued staring at Jack, her mind going through all kinds of emotions going through her mind at this moment. “Just a bit dizzy,” she snapped her gaze away from Jack who let out a huff.

“Dr. King, get her something to eat and drink, if you don’t mind, then go home, your shift ended over an hour ago,” Jack spoke softly to Mel, who nodded and headed off. He looked at her for a long moment and shook his head. She could hear the discussion between Princess and Perlah intensifying, though she did not understand what they were saying.

“Dr. Jack Abbot,” he held out his hand to her, just like he had done in the bar a month ago, a shiver ran down her spine as she took it, shaking it carefully introducing herself with her full name this time as well. Suddenly it was like whiplash hit her and she knew where she had seen Dr. Robby before, she had seen him in one of the photos in Jack’s apartment.

Mel reappeared with two granola bars and a cup of water in her hand, setting it down.

“Thanks, Mel,” she smiled at the woman. “See you tomorrow,” Mel told her goodbye as well and disappeared, she knew that she still needed to pick up her sister.

“Eat, drink, go home, you need to be here at seven tomorrow,” his voice was firm, but not unkind. She snorted, defiant and angry at him, hell he could have at least told her that the one night stand was supposed to stay exactly that. She wanted to tell him to go fuck off.

“Thanks, but I will be fine,” as she got up from the chair her dizziness came back knocking the wind out of her and she swayed again, sitting back down she grumbled while opening the granola bar, practically inhaling the two bars and drinking the cup of water in one gulp.

“There happy,” she sounded more snappy than she intended and she heard one of the night shift nurses gasp slightly, that would definitely be thrown into the gossip mill.

“Yes,” Jack gave her a pointed look, the kind of look that said ‘if you do that one more time you are going to be in big trouble’. “Now, go home,”

Not letting him tell her that twice she shot out of the chair and made her way towards the lockers, the dizziness wasn’t gone completely, but the bars and the water had helped. She saw Perlah and Princess in the hallway, both of them giving her suspicious looks. This was going to be interesting.

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott

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maria021015 · 1 month ago

Text

Penpals - Part 1

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Part 2 out now.

———————————————————————

To: George (Or so he thought…)

Sent via Owl Post

Oi, George—

I’ve just had a brilliant idea for a new product and couldn’t wait until Madam Pomfrey decides I’m okay to tell you. Picture this: a quill that looks completely ordinary… until someone starts using it, and then - BAM! - it starts dramatically narrating everything they’re doing like an overly enthusiastic announcer at a Quidditch match.

Imagine McGonagall trying to give a lecture with her quill going, “Professor McGonagall is now frowning disapprovingly at a third year who clearly has no idea what she’s doing…oh, and there goes the eyebrow twitch!”

Anyway, we’ll call it Quill of Commentary. Think about it. We can tweak it to be snarky, romantic, heroic - the whole range. I’ll start prototyping this week. You handle the charmwork, I’ll wrangle the packaging.

Also, I may or may not have replaced Ron’s well with disappearing ink again. His reaction was magnificent. You’d think he’d check by now. Honestly, it’s too easy.

Write back when you can - though if you’ve already started testing that Puking Pastille variant again, do us all a favour and test it on yourself first.

Your better half (obviously),

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred Weasley.

Sent via Owl Post

Good evening Fred,

I’m assuming the intended recipient of this letter was your (admittedly far more endearing) other half, George.

Unfortunately for both of us, your letter has been sent to the wrong dormitory by your rather confused owl. Though I must say, your Quill of Commentary sounds like an intriguing invention. I must order one (once they’ve been thoroughly tested, of course).

As for poor Ronald, do take some pity on him. After all, I’ve heard he struggles to complete his work without the ink disappearing.

Kind regards,

Your anonymous letter recipient.

———————————————————————

To: The Mystery Mischief-Magnet Who Is Not George

Sent via Very Confused Owl

Well, now this is unexpected.

I must admit, I didn’t anticipate a response from someone with clearly impeccable taste in joke products. And yet, here you are, anonymous and delightfully cheeky. You’ve got me curious now. Not just because you called George the “far more endearing” twin (he’ll be insufferable if he hears that), but because you clearly have a sense of humour…and, dare I say, excellent timing. It does get rather boring being cooped up in the hospital wing.

You read the whole letter, didn’t you? Even the bit about Ron. That’s how I know you’re not a prefect - unless you’re the kind who enjoys a little chaos on the side. In which case, I’m intrigued.

Now, the question is: who are you?

Clearly a student. Intelligent, perhaps? Observant, certainly. Ravenclaw or the better half of Slytherin? Possibly Hufflepuff with a secret streak of mischief. And brave enough to write me back instead of chucking the letter in the bin. Could you be from my own house?

How about a trade? You give me a clue about yourself, and I’ll give you one in return.

Here’s mine: when I was five, I tried to charm Mum’s cooking pots into forming a marching band. It ended in singed eyebrows and a very cross chicken, but I regret nothing.

Your move, Mystery Girl.

Awaiting your next owl with great anticipation,

Fred (the clearly superior twin)

———————————————————————

To: The person who thinks he is the superior twin

Sent via slowly learning owl

‘Unexpected’ is the perfect word for the situation, for I also was not expecting a letter back.

I did indeed read your entire letter, and while I do not participate in (or wholeheartedly agree with) the rule breaking chaos you and your brother often partake in, I must admit it is entertaining for the rest of the student body.

As for your numerous questions - and assumptions - about me…

Well I’m not so keen to give myself up too easily. But I’ll play your little game as I am intrigued to hear more.

A cooking pot marching band sounds dreadful to the ears yet delightful to the soul.

I’m not going to make this easy for you, so you’ll have to pay close attention, but I’ve left a hint pertaining to my house somewhere in this letter. I wonder if you can find it? I await your response with eagerness.

From, your mysterious penpal.

———————————————————————

To: My Mysterious Penpal (who is either very clever, very bold, or both)

Delivered via Owl with a tendency to nip if ignored

I must say, you’ve got a flair for suspense. Subtle clues, a riddle in your words, and now. hidden symbols in the wax seal? You certainly don’t make it easy, but I suppose that’s part of the fun. Most people wouldn’t notice a badger tucked away like that…but most people aren’t me.

So. Hufflepuff, are you?

That narrows it down to roughly…a few dozen people. Brilliant.

You don’t strike me as the type who trips over their shoelaces in Herbology or forgets their wand in the loo. No, you’re one of the sharper ones, the type who sits quietly in the background but has already figured out exactly how many steps it’ll take to sneak out of the castle undetected. I like that. Calculated chaos. My favourite kind.

I’ll take your challenge and raise you: tell me the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done at Hogwarts. No need to incriminate yourself. Just a taste. I’ll even offer one in return:

Once, George and I bewitched every single toilet in the prefect’s bathroom to sing Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits anytime someone sat down. McGonagall gave us detention for a month, but we got a standing ovation from the Gryffindor common room.

Your turn. And do feel free to make it as vague and infuriatingly cryptic as you like - I’m starting to enjoy the puzzle.

Yours in mischief and mystery,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: A not-so-mysterious man

Sent via Owl who is very polite thank you very much

I’m glad you were perceptive enough to pick up on my hint - Hufflepuff indeed. I fear your expectations of my house mates delve into stereotype. I promise we are not all blundering and forgetful. We are actually splendid at finding things.

Though your assessment about calculated chaos is correct. I, like most people, do enjoy a tad bit of mischief every now and then. Although more often than not I enjoy observing rather than partaking.

The most rebellious act I’ve committed at Hogwarts pales in comparison to your various achievements (which are heard about even deep down in the hufflepuff common room).

I’m afraid the story is not that exciting, but I did once hex that Slytherin git Draco Malfoy for running his mouth about what muggleborns he wanted to be attacked next. Not so brave of me to attack a second year who was two years my junior, but he did deserve it.

Perhaps you could convince me to be a bit more daring?

I believe you’ve asked two questions in a row, making my turn overdue. It’s all well and good to tell me of your various pranking feats, for which you are known for throughout the Hogwarts student body. But the real truth of who you are lies beneath all that. I’d like to dig deeper. Who is Fred Weasley, really? The boy behind the prank master. Tell me, what is something the rest of us don’t know about you?

Sincerely, your mystery hufflepuff.

———————————————————————

To: The Surprisingly Fiery Badger in Disguise

Delivered via owl who seems to like you more than me now (traitor)

Well, well, hexing Draco Malfoy, were you?

I take back what I said about you being the quiet type. That’s the kind of rebellion that earns you a secret round of applause in the corridors, even if the professors pretend not to notice. Trust me, I know the sound of a muffled cheer when I hear one. For the record, I’d call that brave, not cruel. Sometimes people need a reminder they’re not as untouchable as they think.

Now, as for convincing you to be more daring…challenge accepted. I’d wager there’s a whole world of untapped chaos lurking in you, waiting to be unleashed. And when it is, I’d like to be there to see it. Or possibly help. Definitely help.

You’ve turned the tables on me though, and fair’s fair.

Who am I behind the gags and firecrackers?

Well. Most people see the jokes and assume that’s all there is. Loud, laughing, a bit reckless. But the truth is: pranks are just another kind of magic. They’re distractions. Shields. Ways to twist something heavy into something light. And when things get too dark - too real - I’d rather make someone laugh than let them feel the weight of it all.

There’s something else not many people know: I actually like working late at night, when the castle’s asleep. That quiet, that calm, it’s when ideas come alive. The fireworks, the products, the laughter…they’re all born in the silence.

So there you have it. A little honesty from the Weasley with the wildest hair and the biggest plans.

Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.

Now, I’ll trade you for another clue. You’ve got sharp wit and a hidden temper, but tell me: if you weren’t at Hogwarts, what would you be doing? No magic, no wands. Just you, out in the world.

Curious as ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: The boy behind the wild hair and nature

Sent via my new best friend

As far as vulnerability goes you certainly exceeded my expectations. Perhaps you aren’t as difficult of a book to read as I originally thought.

I’d always imagined your love and flair for the dramatic and fantastical was a way to seek attention and stand out among a family where I assume it would be easy to disappear, given there are so many of you. But your real reason is rather…endearing. In truth I find it quite admirable. We all need a little bit of light in the darkness, now more than ever with the recent attacks at the Quidditch World Cup. I’m happy that you are there to bring that light back into everyone’s lives at Hogwarts.

I enjoy working late at night in the dark and quiet as well. It is easier to think when the world is asleep. It brings a certain kind of peace that is hard to find at Hogwarts among the hustle and bustle. And do not worry, your secrets are safe with me. We Hufflepuffs are an honest and loyal bunch.

If I were to be out in the muggle world I imagine I’d like to go into healthcare. Learn how to help people, heal them. Though I suppose that’s not too different from what I want to do in the wizarding world.

What would you want to be if magic did not exist?

Equally as intrigued,

Mystery Badger

———————————————————————

To: The Healer in Hufflepuff’s Den

Delivered by an owl now carrying your letters with far too much pride (I think it’s showing off)

Well, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all term.

And yes, you’re not wrong about the whole “Weasley chaos” theory. It’s rather easy to become another blur of red hair and hand-me-down jumpers in a family like mine. So I suppose I turned up the volume a bit. Not to be seen, exactly, but to make something mine. George and I…we found our way by making people laugh. But you’re the first to look underneath all that and say it out loud.

That’s rather bold of you, Mystery Girl.

I like it.

And I especially like the sound of you being a healer. You’ve got the soul for it, I can tell from the way you speak. Thoughtful. Grounded. The kind of person who’d stay up through the night to make sure someone felt just a bit less alone. Magic or not, the world could use more of that. More of you.

As for me…no magic, huh?

That’s tough. I think I’d still want to create. Something loud and ridiculous and a little brilliant. I’d probably try to make jokes for a living. Maybe sketch things, invent weird little gadgets that no one needs but everyone wants the moment they see it. Something to remind people that life doesn’t always have to be so serious. That it can still be fun.

And if I’m being really honest…I’d want to make something that makes people remember me. Not for fame. Just so they smile, even for a second. Like, “That bloke Fred? Yeah…he was daft, but he made the world a bit brighter.”

So.

Another layer peeled back. Your move.

Next question, for you: If you could take me anywhere at Hogwarts - your favourite spot, your best-kept secret place - where would we go?

(And before you say the kitchens, I’m already quite familiar, thank you very much. The house-elves adore me.)

Yours, more intrigued than ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred, the boy who made me smile today.

Sent via Owl that deserves to be proud

Your words were unexpectedly sweet for someone with such a roguish reputation. Perhaps your charm is why the ladies at Hogwarts love you.

Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be in need of my healing services, with all of your dangerous experimentations.

I could certainly see you as any and all of those things you described. It’s exceedingly honourable to simply want to make the world a better place with laughter - something so simple but something so often overlooked. I can tell you that your mission has succeeded today. I witnessed your little stunt in Herbology and while Professor Sprout may not have been impressed, I certainly was.

As for my favourite secret spot at Hogwarts…your guess was close. The kitchens are a close second, and the house elves have indeed told me about your midnight escapades. Though they may not have used the word ‘adore’ when describing you. Again, another secret of yours that I hold close to my chest. My favourite spot has to be the astronomy tower at dusk or sunrise. I love watching the colours that bleed across the sky. You’ll have to try it sometime.

And for my question, I heard you tried to enter your name into the Goblet of Fire this week and it ended in an unfortunate prunage of the skin and greying of the hair. Tell me, are you a handsome old man Weasley? But in all seriousness, why did you want to enter?

Looking forward to your response,

A smiling Hufflepuff

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who’s Made This Whole Mad Castle Feel a Little Less Mad

Delivered by one very smug owl who now refuses to carry anything but your letters. I’m considering a name for him. Something noble. Like Earl.

You saw that, did you? The Herbology stunt?

In my defense, the Venomous Tentacula did not need to be that dramatic. I gave it a party hat, not a reason to attack. Though I suppose, in its own way, it was participating in the celebration. Of what, I haven’t decided. Tuesday, maybe. Or life. Plants are unpredictable like that.

And you, my mysterious healer, have a dangerous gift for making me grin like an idiot when no one’s watching. I’ve read your letter three times now, and I’ve got half a mind to find that astronomy tower this weekend just to see if the sky looks as lovely as you describe - or if it only gets that way when you’re up there.

Now, to your question.

Yes. George and I may have tried to skirt the age line around the Goblet of Fire. I’m not entirely fond of what happened. Mostly because I now know exactly what I’ll look like in seventy years, and frankly, I was hoping for a little less nose hair. But you asked why we tried, not how miserably it failed.

Truth is…it wasn’t about glory. Not entirely.

I mean, sure, part of it was the thrill of it - the chance to prove we’re not just class clowns. That we could do something bold and win. But also…I think I just wanted to shake things up. Show people we’re more than the punchlines they expect. That we can fight for something. That we will. The gold prize would have been nice too.

But maybe that’s a silly answer. Or maybe it isn’t. I suppose you’ll be the judge.

Now it’s my turn again, isn’t it?

Tell me this: what’s the one thing you wish people noticed about you, but never seem to?

No rush.

The sky will still be there when you’re ready.

Yours - still slightly grey, still quite proud,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: My still-grey Griffindor

Via Earl

I’ve grown rather fond of Earl, though I think he likes me even more. But that may have something to do with the extra fruit snacks I feed him.

I’m glad I’m not the only one reading our little secret letters with a smile on my face. My friends are starting to get nosy and ask questions. Don’t worry, I keep my lips shut tight about our secret conversations.

You should make a visit to the astronomy tower this weekend. I can’t promise I will be there but I may leave something for you to find. If you can, that is.

As for your reasons to enter the tournament, you needn’t concern yourself with what others think. It may not mean much coming from someone you don’t even know, but if you want my opinion, I think you and George are both extremely gifted academically. The spells and skills that are required for the level of magic used to execute your pranks and make your products is extraordinary. You are far more than class clowns.

Not many people do notice me to be fair, and the people who do don’t seem to like me very much. Of course I have my close circle of friends - Luna, Cedric, and now perhaps you?

Something I wish people did notice was that I may seem like a bitch, but I am seldom cruel for the fun of it. I simply have very strong personal morals that I hate to see broken. If there is an injustice I will do my best to right it.

As for this week’s question, Fred, will you be at the first task on Sunday? I want to know if I should keep an eye out for you in the crowd. Perhaps I’ll come say hi, though I imagine I’d be quite hard to point out in the crowd of girls who do so.

Well wishes from the hufflepuff who notices you.

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who Notices More Than Most

Delivered by Earl, who now refuses to leave without a snack and a scratch behind the wing (I’ve created a monster)

You have no idea how tempting that astronomy tower invitation is.

I’d say you’re cruel for teasing it, but something tells me you’re the type who prefers the thrill of the chase to the prize itself. Which is very unfair of you, considering how terribly impatient I am. But all right, Mystery Girl. I’ll play your game. If I do find something up there, I’ll consider it a sign that I’ve earned a little more of your truth.

And thank you, for what you said about me and George. Most people laugh and dismiss what we do as silly, but you saw the work in it. The craft. That means more to me than I can properly write in a letter. I think you’ve got a habit of seeing through the noise, don’t you?

Now then.

You may not be the easiest person to spot in a crowd, but something tells me I’d know you if I saw you. You’ve got a presence, even in ink. I’ll be at the first task, yes. Somewhere near the front. Probably shouting something highly inappropriate and getting side-eyed by McGonagall. If you’re there, look for the bloke who’s too loud, wearing Gryffindor colours, and scanning the crowd like he’s trying to find something he’s not supposed to see.

Because I will be looking for you. And if you come say hi…I’ll know.

Not because of your house colours but because I think I’ll feel it. The way I feel it now, when your words show up in my hand and suddenly the world feels a bit warmer.

As for what you said, you’re not cruel. You’re fierce. Loyal. And maybe a little sharp around the edges. But only because you care more than most. People like that? They’re the ones worth holding on to.

Now, for your next question:

If you could ask me anything face to face, no matter how bold or personal - what would it be?

Yours until Sunday (and hopefully after),

Fred

#harry potter #the wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding world #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #frederick weasley

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