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racetowrite · 2 months ago

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Hunger

Support a disabled creator

Pairing : Lewis Hamilton x f!reader

Tags : squirting, mean!lewis!dom, gut wrenching smut, unprotected piv, age gap

Word Count : 3.5k

Lewis was taking a walk through the pitlane late at night, enjoying the silence and stillness of the empty garage. As he passed by the Ferrari garage, he caught a glimpse of you, his new strategist, still working away.

Intrigued, he stepped inside the garage and approached you, a hint of concern in his voice as he spoke. "What are you doing here this late?" he asked. "You should be getting rest."

You looked up at Lewis, a small smile on your face. "I still have some work to do," you admitted, gesturing to the data and statistics spread out on the desk in front of you. "I like to stay a little later to get a head start on tomorrow's qualifying."

You turned back to the tablet in your hand, the glow of the screen casting shadows across your face. Lewis watched you for a moment, impressed by your dedication, but also worried that you were burning the midnight oil a little too much.

Lewis had been driving for Ferrari for seven months now, and in that time you had been the only one to really make him feel welcome and valued within the team. Your warm demeanor and strategic insights had quickly earned his respect and trust.

At the same time, he couldn't help but notice little things about you, like how you always seemed to be the last one in the garage and how you always seemed to push yourself harder than anyone else.

As he stood there watching you work, Lewis felt a pang of worry in his chest. He had grown fond of you, not just as a colleague but as a friend. He couldn't help but notice how hard you worked and how much you pushed yourself to give your best to the team.

Lewis watched you for a moment longer, admiring your dedication and determination, but also seeing the signs of fatigue on your face. He took a deep breath and spoke up.

"Hey," he began, his tone gentle. "It's late, and you've been working for hours. How about we go to the hotel bar for a drink and relax a little? You need to unwind."

You looked up at Lewis, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Since when did you start drinking before a race?" you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Lewis chuckled, his own smile growing wider. "I know, I know," he said, holding up his hands in mock defensiveness. "But one drink can't hurt, right? Besides, we need to unwind a little before tomorrow's race."

You chewed on your lower lip, considering his words. Lewis was right, tomorrow was a big race and relaxation was important. "Alright," you finally relented, closing your tablet and standing up from the desk. "But just one drink, okay? Don't want to get too crazy."

Lewis's face broke into a victorious smile, his eyes lighting up at your agreement. "One drink, I promise," he said, holding up his hand in mock oath.

He waited for you to gather up your things before leading the way out of the garage and towards the hotel bar near the track.

The hotel bar was a cozy and relaxed atmosphere, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Lewis led you to a small, secluded corner table, pulling out a chair for you before taking a seat across from you.

You smiled gratefully as Lewis pulled out your chair and took a seat across from you. "Thank you," you said softly, touched by the gesture.

The corner table was intimate and secluded, a perfect spot for a relaxed conversation and a drink. You glanced around, taking in the cozy atmosphere of the bar, the soft music setting the mood.

Lewis signaled a waiter to bring over drinks, ordering two glasses of red wine for the both of you. Once the waiter had left, he turned his attention back to you, a smile still playing at the corners of his lips.

Lewis settled back in his chair, his eyes studying you across the small table. He had always found you intriguing, with your sharp mind and strategic insights. Now, in the dim light of the bar, he found himself wanting to know more about you beyond your work.

"So," he began, his voice low and casual, "tell me something about yourself that I don't already know. Something personal."

You chuckled softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice. "My life is pretty complicated, not much to tell," you said, shaking your head a little.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, not sure where to even begin. Your private life was messy and chaotic, and you weren't used to sharing those details with anyone.

But there was something about Lewis, that open and earnest look in his eyes, that made you want to open up just a little bit. Taking a sip of your wine, you continued. "Let's just say I've had a lot of ups and downs lately. It's been a bit of a roller coaster, to put it lightly."

Lewis leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed intently on you. Your words had intrigued him, stirring his natural curiosity. He could see the hint of pain behind your smile, the shadows in your eyes. He was suddenly desperate to know more about you, to uncover all the layers and complexities that made you who you were.

"I can relate to that," he said softly. "Life can be unpredictable and brutal. But we all have our stories."

Lewis studied your face, his eyes tracing the contours of your features as if he could read your thoughts. There was a part of him, a deep-rooted curiosity, that wanted to know everything about you. Not just the professional side, but your whole story.

"You must have a lot more to you than meets the eye," he remarked, his voice holding a hint of wonder. "I'd like to know more about you, the real you behind all this," he gestured around, "strategy and work."

Lewis took a sip of his wine, gathering his thoughts. He knew that in order to earn your trust, he needed to be open and vulnerable as well.

"Alright, let me start then," he began, his voice taking on a more serious edge. "I've been through a lot in my career, and sometimes I feel like I'm carrying the weight of it all on my shoulders. It's hard, being in the public eye all the time, but sometimes it feels lonelier than I'd like to admit."

He paused, taking another sip of wine, his eyes fixed on your face, searching for any reaction from you. "And it's not just the fame," he continued, "it's the pressure to perform, the constant scrutiny, all of it. Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly understands what it's like."Lewis leaned back in his chair, trying to gauge your reaction. He wanted to open up to you, to show you that he wasn't just the famous 7 world champion (one might say 8th) driver. He was also just a man, with his own struggles and fears.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," he finally said, his voice low and sincere, "I understand what it's like to feel like you're carrying the world on your shoulders. And I hope someday, you feel comfortable enough to share your burdens with me."

You couldn't help but smile softly at Lewis's words. His honesty was refreshing, and you appreciated his willingness to share his own struggles and vulnerabilities.

"Thank you," you said, your voice sincere, "for being open with me.“

You took a deep breath, gearing yourself to share a bit more about your life. "You know, I have another job on top of being a strategist," you started, fiddling with the stem of your wine glass.

Lewis's eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. He hadn't been expecting that. "Really?" he asked, leaning forward, his gaze fixed intently on your face. "What else do you do?"

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your wine glass for a moment before meeting Lewis's eyes again. "I'm a medical resident in neurology," you said. "It's a lot to juggle but it's something I've always been passionate about."

Lewis was in awe. "That's impressive," he said admiringly, his tone filled with genuine respect. "I knew you were intelligent, but I didn't know you were a doctor as well. No wonder you keep your cool in when the team is panicking."

You chuckled softly, the compliment making you feel a little bit self-conscious. "High-pressure situations are just a part of my daily life," you said, a hint of humor in your voice. "I just handle them differently depending on whether it's a pit stop or a hospital emergency."

Lewis chuckled along with you, enjoying the playfulness in your response. He studied you closely, as if seeing you in a completely new light. He had always known you were smart and capable, but learning about your other career added a whole new dimension to your character.

As he listened to you speak, Lewis found himself becoming even more captivated. Your passion for your work, the fact that you were a doctor on top of being a strategist, it all made you even more beautiful in his eyes.

He wasn't just admiring your outward attractiveness anymore, he was admiring the person you were. Smart, dedicated, compassionate and strong. You were beautiful not just on the outside but on the inside as well.

By the time you were a couple of drinks in, the atmosphere between you and Lewis had grown more relaxed and comfortable. Lewis was feeling a bit courageous, and emboldened by the wine.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and sultry, "How about we continue this... somewhere a bit more private?" His eyes met yours, a question in his gaze.

Your heart skipped a beat as you understood the implications of his words. You swallowed hard, not expecting this turn of events, but not entirely opposed to it either.

"Uh, sure," you replied, your voice a little shaky. The alcohol had definitely lowered your inhibitions, making you feel bolder than you normally would.

Lewis noticed the hint of uncertainty in your eyes and the slight tremble in your voice as you agreed to go to his hotel room. He could tell that you weren't sure about this, that you were a bit out of your comfort zone.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning a little closer to you. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, alright?" His concern was genuine, his eyes fixed on you, seeing past the facade of confidence the drinks might have given you.

As the subject of your age difference crossed your mind, a wave of worry washed over you. You were only 23 and Lewis was significantly older at 39. He hadn't asked you your age yet, and you were starting to wonder if that would be a dealbreaker for him.

You took a deep breath, the alcohol in your system making you braver than usual. "Lewis," you said, biting your lip, "There's something I need to tell you..."

Lewis looked at you curiously, sensing the slight shift in your tone. He put down his glass and turned in his chair to fully face you. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low and earnest.

You took another sip of your wine for courage before meeting his eyes again. "It's just...I'm 23," you confessed, bracing yourself for his reaction. "I know we didn't discuss our ages, but... I think you should know."

Lewis looked at you, a soft, amused smile on his lips. "23, huh?" he said, the fact seeming to amuse him. "You know, I had a feeling you were younger, but I didn't know by how much."

He reached a hand across, gently taking your chin in his fingers. His eyes held a fierce determination. "But I don't care how old you are. I want you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You hadn't expected him to be so direct, so certain. "But... the age gap," you blurted out, your mind still wrestling with the implications of what was happening.

Lewis's smile widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "The age gap doesn't matter," he replied, gently stroking his thumb along your jawline. "We're grown adults, aren't we? We know what we want."

His confidence and assurance were intoxicating. You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, your breath catching in your throat. "But... we work together ," you said weakly, trying to find a reason to resist.

Lewis chuckled again, his fingers tracing downward, caressing the sensitive skin of your neck. "We've always been professional at work," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "What we do outside of work is no one else's business but ours."

Lewis led you through the hotel corridors, his hand firmly holding yours. The elevator ride was a silent one, the air between you filled with anticipation.

As soon as the elevator door open, Lewis spun you around, pinning you against the wall. He didn't waste any time. His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his hands framing your face.

“Fucking made for me." Lewis murmured around your neck.

Lewis’s lips brushed against yours, and finally, he kissed you like a starving man who stumbled upon his favorite meal.

He pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving.

“Let's get to the room, I need you now. And don't even think about trying to slow things down, sweetheart.”

As soon as he opens the door his hotel room, Lewis kicked it shut and pulled you into his arms, his mouth finding yours in a searing kiss. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, then he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He ground his hardness against your core, his voice hoarse as he spoke between kisses.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted you, sweetheart. These past seven months... God, it's been hell. I've thought about this - about you - every single day.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat between you growing with each moment. His body pressed against yours, you could feel the evidence of his desire for you. The months of suppressed longing and glances were finally coming to a head.

"I've thought about you too," you confessed against his lips, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. "Wondered what it would be like...to be with you like this."

His hands tightened on your backside, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “You don't know how many cold showers I've taken, thinking about you...wondering if you'd taste as sweet as you look.”

He began to kiss and nip at your neck, his hands roaming your back and hips possessively.

“I used to imagine burying my face between your thighs...tasting you...hearing you moan my name.”

His voice was low and gravelly, his breath hot against your skin.

He carried you to the bed, gently laying you down. He began to unbutton his shirt slowly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Seven months. I've waited seven months to touch you, to hear you beg for me.”

His shirt fell to the floor, revealing his tattooed chest.

He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. He reached out to trace a finger along your jawline, his eyes burning with desire.

“Please, Lewis. I need you..please, just touch me.” Your voice was desperate, pleading.

He let out a low, hungry growl at your begging. He reached out and gripped your thighs, spreading them wider apart.

“You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

He leaned forward, his mouth hovering over your core. “I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy until you're screaming my name.”

He buried his face between your thighs, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your wet cunt. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your breathing growing rapid and shallow as he feasted on you.

He sucked and licked, his fingers joining in to stretch and fill you. He growled against your flesh, the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want to taste you on my tongue.”

He curled his fingers inside you, rubbing that spot that drove you wild.

He lifted his head, his lips glistening with your essence. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with intensity. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb strumming against your swollen bud.

He redoubled his efforts, his mouth latching back onto your center. His fingers curled inside you, his touch firm and unyielding. He growled against your flesh, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge, but not quite over.

“Look at me.”

With a final, desperate look at his face, you shattered. Your body convulsed, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. And to your shock, you felt a gush of liquid escape your core, soaking the sheets beneath you and Lewis's face.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you became aware of the wetness between your thighs and the embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You clamped your legs shut, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh God. I'm so sorry, I've never, I mean, I didn't know”

Lewis wiped his face, a smug grin on his face. He crawled up the bed and gently pried your hands from your face.

“Gorgeous, look at me. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Please, don't be embarrassed.”

He kissed you slowly, deeply, so you could taste yourself on his lips.

“That was so beautiful...and it's a turn-on knowing I'm the first man to make you do that.”

He interlocks his fingers behind your back, pulling you even closer.

“I'm going to pound you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow. Your pussy is going to be so sore, so swollen, that you'll be feeling me for days."

He paused, his fingers trailing along your collarbone.

"And if you ask me to stop, or beg me to be gentle, I'm going to ignore you. You're mine tonight, and I'm going to take you exactly how I want.”

His eyes met yours, daring you to protest.

When you didn't say anything, just bit your lip and nodded, he smiled wickedly.

"Good girl...Now turn over, and grip the headboard."

You turned over, gripping the headboard tightly as Lewis positioned himself behind you. He reached between your legs, spreading your thighs wide before lining his cock up with your entrance.

"Remember, you can't ask me to stop, and you definitely can't ask me to be gentle."

He slammed into you, filling you to the hilt in one deep thrust. You cried out, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the headboard tighter. He was big, bigger than anyone you'd been with before, and he filled you completely.

“Lewis..Oh, my, God”

He ignored your plea, grabbing your hips tightly as he began to pound into you mercilessly. He set a brutal pace, each thrust punctuated by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and your muffled cries.

"Shh baby, just take it.”

He reached one hand around to cover your mouth, his fingers delving into your mouth to silence your cries. His other hand continued to grip your hip tightly as he continued to pound into you, his pace growing even faster.

“That's it, baby, take it all.. You can take more.”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes as he continued to stretch you, his thickness rubbing against that spot inside you that made you buck against him. Your fingers scrambled against the headboard, searching for something to hold onto as he continued to mercilessly pound into you.

“Lewis, Lewis, I’m- I’m gonna cum.”

He growled, his fingers tightening over your mouth as his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt.

"I said no talking. Now shut up and take it.” His voice was low, menacing, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. His breathing grew ragged, his movements becoming erratic and jerky. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and let out a guttural moan. His hand tightened painfully on your hip as he began to pulse hot seed into you, his face contorted with pleasure.

He slumped against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he nuzzled you gently.

"Good girl.” he panted, slowly withdrawing from you and collapsing onto the bed beside you. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

"You okay, baby?"

You nodded weakly, too boneless to move. He gently turned you onto your side, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough.” he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders. "But you took it so well.”

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #f1 smut #formula one #formula 1 #smut #formula one smut #max verstappen #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #charles leclerc #max verstappen smut #lando norris #carlos sainz #formula 1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #pierre gasly

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chososluv · 1 year ago

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BOYFRIEND!NANAMI

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: part two of workhusband!nanami. fast forward where you two are in a serious relationship and unwind after a long stressful week the best way you two know how

✎〰 word count: 2.3k (something short sweet <3)

🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, soft sex, missionary sex, riding, squirting, creampie, petnames, slight size kink, nanami is pussy drunk and whipped by you, slight sub!reader, sort've proofread will edit later

Soft smells of jasmine and roses fill the air. Stresses of the day seaming to be irrelevant and minuscule the moment Nanami Kento laid his blond head on the satin pillows. His body settles into the thick duvet with an emissive thread count that seemed to relax those tense muscles of his generously. Those graphs, statistics, and metrics of work melt away from his brain, rending his brain blank with tranquility. It also wasn’t hard for him to fall in a state of relaxation when you — his beautiful lover — perch yourself on top of him. His eyes opening and falling into a tender expression the moment he saw your face looking down at him. He mirrors your lovestruck smile before he speaks.

"Missed you."

The honey smooth baritone of his voice causes your stomach to twist and set a cage of butterflies free. Your smile stretches across your lips and you place your palms on his broad chest. His usual navy shirt gone and in the dirty laundry basket. His skin is warm against your palms and your fingers are so dainty against his brute pecs. You bite your lip before digging your nails gently into his skin.

“Missed you more.” You reply back at him. He shifts under the feeling of your nails scratching against his skin. Nevertheless he ignored it and shifts his attention back to your angelic face. The same one he’s been deprived of all week since you two took on different projects and barely saw one another at work. The overtime to meet deadlines meant less time together and often times you two spoke only sparingly through text messages and funny enough those days seemed to be your worst days.

When your projects finally came to a close, Kento and you planned a night where you two would finally unwind with one another. The location selected was his apartment and he was pleased to find you had beaten him home. Letting yourself in with the key he had granted you five months in your relationship, his ears heard the soft sensual r&b music that echoed throughout his apartment. You met him by the door adorned in a scantily satin slip negligee that left Kento drooling. He found himself melting as you ridded him of his briefcase and then jacket. Your small hands worked to loosen his tie before unbuttoning his dress shirts. Kento grabs your hands, rough and broad fingers engulfing yours entirely. You look up at him the other hand touches the side of your face. He strokes his thumb tenderly before speaking.

“Want to see what you have planned.” He points to the roses on the ground that seem to indicate a path. You nodded as his thumb moved to your bottom lip. He presses against it and your tongue darts out to lick his thumb. He swore under his breath before you spoke.

“Mhmm, yes baby.”

The stresses of work seemingly slip away when you took his hand in yours led him to the dining area. A cooked meal and candle lights to add to the ambiance left Nanami grinning softly. He looks to you, taking in your hopeful expression as you awaited his reaction to your romantic dinner. It was cute. The effort you put in to make him feel special and he looks to you tiredly, however his grin stretches even wider.

“You’re perfect.” He said to you and you felt the relief and content flood through your body. You throw your arms around him, bringing him down to your height as you narrow the gap between the two of you. Your noses touch and you lean forward, placing your lips delicately on top of his to form like a puzzle. You two always fit together as if you were made for each other.

"Only for you." You said to him when you ceased your gentle kiss.

During your romantic dinner - to both of your surprises - you managed to keep your hands to yourselves. A verbal form of intimacy taking place as you both listened to each other's days tentatively. A part of your relationship both of you cherished just as deeply as the sexual intimacy you shared. Which speaking of . . .

Boyfriend!Nanami currently moves his hands up your satin slip, distracting you from your thoughts. You were caught up in Kento's stare as he continued to stare at you. Dinner is long over and in the present time you are still perched on his lap. You try to supress the shiver that ripples through you as he runs his fingers along your thighs. Goosebumps are left in his wake, trailing as he continues traveling up your nightgown. Your cunt begins to tingle when he presses his fingers against your bare pelvis, finding that you were completely nude this whole time.

"No underwear?" He questions, raising an eyebrow and you only held his stare. You lick your lips before replying, deciding on your reply.

"Didn't think you would make it past dinner." You tease and he chuckles briefly. His fingers trail along your hips before traveling back down your leg again. His fingers fully emerge and he circles his hands once more, retreating back underneath the slip and up your leg.

"What do I get for behaving?" A look shifts in his eyes, something dark and a bit carnal but it awakens something inside you too. You were waiting for this Kento to emerge and now that he did you fought against curling your toes. You easily submitted to him but tonight, you wanted to something different.

"Something like this..." You say before leaning down. His eyes flicker from yours to your lips, his hand back on your pelvis. He teasingly slips it down, pretending he's about to touch where you wanted him most. Your breathing hitches, but sick of the teasing, you lean forward and crash your lips to his. He greets you hungrily, devouring and kissing on your lips he missed greatly. Your breath evades your lungs as you melt into a bliss only love could craft.

Boyfriend!Nanami sweats at his hairline when you ride him. Completely ridded of your clothes, he holds tightly onto your waist as you roll and rock your hips at a rhythm that has Kento winded. He's grunting, cursing, and moaning while digging his blunt nails into your side. You're no better. You moan loudly as his length kisses your soaking, yet tight, walls. The stretch is delicious, carnal even, but you both fall deep into euphoria. The explicit sounds of your wet cunt slapping back down against his balls left squelching that would have satan blushing.

"So big!" You praise Kento and he grunts at your praise. His eyes are looking you all over as he watches you ride him. Your breasts are shaking with each motion of your hips and your face contorted into a countenance of bliss. Kento can only drink in the sight as he watched you continue to mount him like ride him like a professional. He never had anyone make him feel this good the way you do.

"Taking me so good." He huffs out and you only whimper. Your thighs are burning but that sensation that arises each time you sink your hips back down has you rutting desperately. Kento sees it and he can only bite his lip before he's sitting up. You mewl wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his skin to touch yours and the temperature skyrockets. You opt to roll your hips, letting him slide out before taking him back in. The pace becoming languid and the change of tempo causing you both to moan against each other's lips. He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you close to him.

"Good girls get your cum." You say, submissive side becoming fucked out of you and Nanami felt his stomach tighten at your words. He can only smirk, noticing the switch in behavior but something is still tender behind that cocky smirk.

"Taught you so well." Nanami says before squeezing his arms tighter around your body before lifting you up and down on his cock. The second switch in rhythm and exhibition of his strength left you gushing, creaming around his cock as he continued bounce you up and down on his cock. Kento listens to your moans and mewls in pleasure, this fueling him to continue to lift you up and down.

"Kento!" You're whimpering, attempting to warn him but only a mixture of curses leave your mouth before a sudden gush of liquid wets his thighs. Nanami swears, stopping his lifting to look down to see you squirting all over his lap.

"Fuck, this pussy is leaky tonight, hmm?" He says before lifting you off his cock. You whine at the loss but he ignores you, placing you on the bed next to him. You flop onto your back as he quickly adjusts himself between your legs before you can register it. He separates your thighs and gives no warning when he dives in, taking your swollen clit in his salivating mouth.

English does not leave your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. His tongue performing sloppy circles and shapes to evoke more croons of pleasure from you. You continue moaning, crying out as his tongue figure 8s back and forth between your soaking hole and beating clit. He moans between your legs, savoring your taste on his tongue. He looks up at you between your legs and has to fist his cock at the sight. Your breasts are in the air due to your dramatic back arch and he groans.

"Kento!" You're shouting and he only continues to eat your cunt. His chin is coated in you and you can only imagine how wet the sheets are beneath you. Your mind would come to that realization later but right now you're too consumed with the way your boyfriend sucks on your lips as he continues to make up for lost time.

"Could live between these thighs." He admits, taking a pause to sink his fingers in, moving away from fisting his cock and he groans at the warmth hugging him. You mewl, remembering what penetration felt like and suddenly you need him back in you. You grab his wrist along with his attention as you do. He looks at you worriedly and you speak.

"I need you back in me, please baby." You beg, pleading with a pitiful look in your eye and he can't say no. He's giving you a kiss on your thighs before giving into your commands . . .

Boyfriend!Nanami who holds both your wrists with one hand as he takes you missionary. Your thighs are wrapped tightly around his waist, squeezing harshly as he continues to roll his hips into you. The lewd noises of your drenched cunt and pathetic whines left Nanami groaning in your neck. He’s so in love with you and he loves hearing your cries for him to keep going. He would only give in to his sweet little work wife who writhed pitifully beneath him. Something about your frame underneath his brute one, taking you in the most intimate position causes his toes to curl. He ruts desperately in you, causing you to squeal at the frantic pace. His tip kisses the deepest parts of you, earning more leaks from your cunt and high pitched whines. All of it was music to his ears.

“I’m gonna cum—” You choke on a whine and he only rutted harder. You whimper, sighing as you felt your orgasm seconds away from crashing into you. Kento was only so far behind, sweating and balls twitching at every sad little whimper that escaped from your swollen lips. He is so enamored he moves his head from your neck to look you over. Your face before him has him gripping your wrist harder as he drinks in your ruined expression. His sweet work wife who turned into the absolute most important person in his life. It’s you and only you he would happily give up his life if it meant to save you from anything cruel in the world. He wipes a tear off your cheek with his free hand before speaking tenderly.

“So pretty falling apart under me.” He comments, pressing your wrists harder into the mattress as his grip somehow manages to get even tighter. You only mewl, lifting your hips to meet his strokes to get him to go deeper.

“Love your cock so much. I wanna cum, Kento.” You plea, asking for permission and he hums. He leans down, kissing your forehead as you huff, fighting to hold off on your orgasm before you heard him grant permission. Your cunt was clenching, pulsating around him and he was struggling to hold back from busting inside you then. However, he keeps his composure and smiles against your forehead before speaking.

“Go ahead and cum for me, honey." He grants the permission you sought out and like magic you feel that wave crash into you. White and hot bliss shoots through you and you let out a howl of pleasure as your cunt sucked on Nanami's cock. He moans, groaning as he feels his load spilling messily inside you. He ruts hard, letting your tight cunt milk him every last drop. The load he's been building and waiting to pump you fill with since the separation between you two. He's moaning loudly and the noise sends butterflies to your belly. The sound so sexy as your boyfriend cums loudly inside you.

"I love you." You sigh as he slides out of your cunt slowly. He looks down at you, letting go of your wrist and you immediately wrap your arms around him. He chuckles at your limbs wrapped around him and he only moves to kiss your cheek.

"I love you too, darling."

©chososluv 📓☕︎♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

#𝐑𝐈𝐕.𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: 👔𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 #something sweet and tender!!#nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen

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magnetothemagnificent · 7 months ago

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In light of Resurrection of Magneto's latest issue and blunder of the Jewish belief that "if you save one life it's as if you saved an entire world"....

It doesn't mean that Jews are all saintly protectors who must save everyone and never kill anyone. It doesn't mean that all. In fact, there's an equally as important belief that goes along with the aforementioned one which is that "if you allow a murderer to escape, the blood of their victims is on your hands." We Jews are not naive. The life of a murderer is not worth more than their victim- if you had a chance to stop a murderer and didn't, yes, even if it means killing them, the blood of their victims is on your hands.

Which is why Magneto saying "to save one life is to save the world" about Tony freakin' Stark is not only out of character, but also not what the phrase is about. Tony Stark has proven numerous times that his actions have led to disastrous things. Magneto is under no theological or moral obligation to help him. And Magneto himself as a character wouldn't *want* to help him.

"oh but he's had his redemption arc, Magneto is good now uwu"

Magneto doesn't have to be a doormat to have a redemption arc. Him not killing Tony for his actions inadvertantly causing the destruction of mutantkind by Orchis is enough of a "redemption". He doesn't have to save Tony to prove he's "good" now, and in fact, helping him would statistically most likely end up with more destruction in the future. Magneto can just. Not do anything. That would be more in-character.

Jews are not naive doormats. *Magneto* is not a naive doormat.

#magneto posting #magneto #erik lehnsherr #max eisenhardt #judaism #resurrection of magneto #resurrection of magneto issue 4 #al Ewing has proven time and time again that he sees Judaism as an aesthetic for him to manipulate him to his means and I am done #marvel #marvel comics

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jc96 · 8 months ago

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[this story is currently in its early development stage.]

The world is divided into two—the “normal humans” and the “powered humans”; people with mutations and abilities that put them above the rest.

It is unknown how the powered humans came to be but it started, one day, when a baby was born with gills on his neck—Case Zero. As the boy grew, so did his mutations—his hands and feet became webbed and it became clear how the boy was born to be in the water.

The next one was a girl—Case One, who was born with wings on her back, which only grew larger as she grew older. Soon, her wings grew so large it dragged on the floor. In a matter of years, her ability to fly and speed became even greater than planes and jets. A girl born to be in the skies.

What started with a baby every few months soon became a baby every month, to a baby every other week to a baby every week.

Today, 1 powered baby is born every 100,000 babies.

With the increasing number of powered humans, the governments of the world decided to implement the Powered Registration Act which aims to, as with normal human beings, register and regulate the powered humans. In line with the Act, the governments of the world created the PHSO - Powered Humans Statistics Office, the governing body solely for the powered humans, led by powered humans for powered humans.

With the emergence of the powered humans, a new occupation is created-heroes.

Registered and regulated by the government, heroes are employed by the PHSO to maintain order and peace while working together with the non-powered force.

Of course, when there are heroes, there are villains—powered and non-powered alike who do not agree with what they call “hero worship” given to heroes.

A never ending cycle of fights between good and evil, peace and chaos which span decades. Nothing new.

Of course, all of these do not concern you. You are not a hero nor are you a villain.

You are a barista with your own café in Sinagtala City.

[rating: 17+ for depictions of blood, non-detailed descriptions of violence, alcohol and cigarette use, off-screen character death(s), and others. this is subject to change as the story progresses]

You are a barista. Sure, your cafe may be a bit odd, compared to others but it is a cafe, nonetheless. Your pride and joy.

You’re the most ordinary citizen in Sinagtala City. Sure, you have secrets you’d do anything to keep, but who doesn’t?

This is a story following your daily life as you entertain customers, buy ingredients and stock your cafe.

...Sure.

— customize your mc! customize your name, pronouns and appearance!

— name your cafe!

— note: this story is set in the philippines and the mc is canonically filipino. as such, customization options are limited to those that are common in filipinos.

— romance 1 out of 3 love interests! are you going for the classic, best friends-to-lovers route? or maybe you'd prefer the enigmatic regular customer? how about the no-nonsense police captain?

— ₜᴿʸ ₜᴼ ᴹₐᴵₙᵀₐᴵₙ ʸᴼᵤᴿ "ₙᴼᵣᴹₐᴸ" ₗᴵᶠᴱ

The Best Friend

Miguel Rivera [28 years old, he/him][ro]

— your best friend since childhood, Miguel is a constant presence in your life, the one person who has been with you through everything; from childhood quarrels with bullies to the death of your mother. Miguel was the first person to come in during your opening day and has been your #1 supporter from day 1.

— going by the hero name “Torch,” Miguel has the ability to control and produce fire, able to use it for short-distance flight, shoot fireballs as well as turn his whole body aflame for a short period of time.

— tall, at 188cm, with a muscular build (but not bodybuilder muscles) from years of training. Brown (kayumanggi) skin, black, wavy hair that reaches his ears and light brown eyes. All of Miguel’s clothes are made from a special thread created from his hair to ensure their resistance to his fire.

The Regular

Kahel [26 years old, they/them][ro]

— a regular customer, Kahel is one of your first customers. They’ve been coming to your cafe for the past 5 years almost daily, with no fail. Through the years, the two of you have formed a friendship. Despite your years of knowing them, you know almost nothing about Kahel’s past and what they actually do for work (they told you they’re a ‘writer’). You don’t know Kahel’s abilities, only that they have physical mutations.

— average height, at 170cm, with a thin build. Pale skin with long, straight hair they keep to their lower back and tied into a braid. Kahel often changes the color of their hair, so often, you don’t know their real hair color. Their eyes are a light gray, and their ears are pointed, like an elf’s ears.

The Captain

Cristina Solomon [34 years old, she/her][ro]

— the captain of the Sinagtala Police Force, Cristina is tasked in ensuring the peace and safety of the inhabitants of Sinagtala City. The youngest to ever hold the position of captain, Cristina holds deep confidence in her abilities and in the pride her colleagues have of her. In her 2 years since becoming captain, the number of crimes have decreased even further, to the point that other cities have called on her expertise and guidance.

— Cristina has the ability to produce shields and force fields which are able to withstand even a direct hit from a bomb. Cristina possesses amazing control of her abilities, even using them for maneuvering. Although powerful, the more shields she produces, the weaker they get until they’re barely stronger than a glass panel.

— tall height, at 178cm, with a thin but muscled build because of her training as a police officer. Brown (kayumanggi) skin and short, straight, dark brown hair she keeps in a bob, stopping just above her jaw. Cristina has dark, almost black, brown eyes and a beauty mark under her left eye.

The Part-timer

Lib Santos [20 years old, they/them]

— a college student who works part time for you. they’re very happy to work for your cafe because it’s the only one they applied to that’s able to accommodate their schedule. They’re able to attract small objects to themself, an ability they use in working.

— short, at 150cm, with a round build. Brown (kayumanggi) skin with freckles on their face. Round glasses hide their dark brown eyes. Their hair is short, a pixie cut, and dyed a light blue.

The Mayor

Penelope Pascual [45 years old, she/her]

— Sinagtala City’s mayor. Unlike past mayors that were personally chosen by Sinag, Penelope was voted for by the public. A well-known figure in the city, it was only a matter of time before Penelope was voted mayor. Penelope is able to control and manipulate air. She mainly uses it to allow herself flight while patrolling the city.

— tall, at 175cm, with a curvy build. Tan skin accentuated by her light brown eyes and long, straight dark brown hair usually tied in its tight bun.

hello! jean here, bringing you a new story. of coffee beans, heroes and villains is an interactive fiction in it's early development stage. the story will be released in chapters and will be completely free from start to finish.

#interactive fiction #twine game #interactive novel #ocbhav-if #twine #twine if #twine interactive fiction #twine wip

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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A NOOSE TO HANG ONTO (III)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER IV

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death, weapons, violence, suggestive thoughts/comments, toxic modeling standards, food issues, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Sometimes you wonder if meeting your soulmate would even matter—it would never fix the void in your heart, you know. It would be foolish to think that it would.

But there is such a drug attached to being loved as you are, despite your flaws and failings, destined to be tied in a game of commitment. Yet the simple fact showed that, while soulmates were able to bring you color, that didn’t change people's nature.

Even among those tied pairs, divorce was rampant; assaults, and murders as well.

Soulmate Psychosis, it was called. When your mind broke from having it all figured out, or even when you knew it was falling apart.

It happened to your father and it happened to millions of other spouses too. When your entire life is already decided when you look at someone, it can be…a lot.

So, part of you was happy that you’d never know who yours was unless they told you themselves—you can hope and pray that they stay their tongue and give you a chance to fall for them naturally. Because it scared you, truly, becoming like all of the rest. A statistic.

Lord, don’t let yourself become a statistic.

Nikto silently walks at your heels as you push through the front doors of your penthouse, taking off your ball cap and stuffing it into your jacket pocket.

The man at the front desk calls to you, and you raise a hand in greeting, sliding a soft smile his way.

“Seraph!” Isaak has been working at this building for as long as you can remember—the man with grayish hair and dark eyes. A face that was sharp and a nose crooked; like a chocolate-chip cookie, dark splotches along his face led to the impression of freckles.

The man was slightly older than you, lanky, and always dressed luxuriously.

“Having a good day, Isaak? Has that girl come back and given you her number yet?” You slow your pace to the elevator, digging into your pocket and peeling out one of the keys from your lanyard for your floor. You nearly drop the thing before you snap and catch onto the metal quickly. Nikto lets off something like an annoyed growl behind you at the interruption from the man across the room.

He’s impatient, you hum and send him a little glance over your shoulder. Light eyes dig with a warning. You only chuckle and shake your head calmly. One would think that for a PMC he would have all the patience in the world.

“You know I keep trying to get her to go away,” Isaak smiles at you. “The only woman I’d accept a number from is you, my Little Angel.”

Where the flirtatious comments had gotten you into bed with the man before, now they just didn’t strike you as they had before. Not…anymore.

You clear your throat and blink away for a moment before you school your expression back to an easy malleability.

“Good try.” Your focus goes back to the keys, fingers jerkily sifting through them.

Isaak’s brows furrow at your form, perhaps a bit of offense making his face twist—dark eyes slip down your body; pupils dilating.

A black form steps slightly forward, a large shoulder blocking you from view in one firm movement. Like some wolf with its neck fur standing on end, Nikto’s head is lightly bent down; eyes so intense that they render Isaak frozen in a sense of internal instincts warring with one another.

Nikto doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound—only stares and doesn't blink, immobile as a stone.

The soft music of the lobby blurs to the sound of a heart pounding.

You don’t even notice, humming when you find the correctly marked key from its slate mass and moving forward to press the illuminated button of the elevator.

“Oh!” Your mind pulls itself back to the present and away from letters and fire. “Isaak, this is Nikto—he’ll be…” A pause, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you okay?”

The man looks like he’s about to piss himself.

Without another word, Isaak scurries into the backroom, the door hitting so hard closed behind him that you flinch slightly and blink in shock. Standing for a moment, you tilt your head slowly right before the elevator dings, signaling you can enter.

Nikto suddenly grabs the meat of your arm and moves you inside.

“Woah!” You call, huffing. “Careful!”

“Inside,” the PMC grumbles, eyes tight and beady.

Your feet stumble when he lets you go, having to steady yourself on the back railing so you don’t fall over and hit your face on the floor. A sharp look is leveled at Nikto as he drops his duffel bag to the ground and hooks his arms at the collar of his rig, grunting and shifting his legs to set himself.

Blinking rapidly, you sigh out a fast breath.

“You know,” you begin, slotting your key into the plaque that says your floor number, twisting, and then taking a step back. Eyes darting to your side, you ease out slyly. “I’m sure people would like you more if you had the ability to articulate what you’re feeling. I’m getting the sense that you carry your emotions around like you’re trying to choke someone out.”

Nikto glares ahead, a brick wall of nothing but a harsh breath.

You smile softly and chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get you into shape in no time.” Pale eyes slowly slide to your face and Nikto’s dead gaze stays there—brows in such a straight line it’s like looking at a statue. “I always do.”

While being around your mom led you to a subdued state, you had no trouble easing back into your usual route of subtle flirting; it was natural to you, even after traumatic events. A cushion, if you will. It felt good to still be able to regulate yourself and have some level of control over your life.

The three bodies and the Stalker, that senseless shadow, still haunt the back of your eyelids but having a distraction in the light was helping. Something new to focus on.

“We need copy,” Nikto glares at you, ignoring your soft tone.

As the elevator rises incredibly high, you hum in question, smile flicking to a confused frown. He grits his teeth under his mask.

“The key, Whelp, да?” Your eyes spark.

“Oh, sure,” you shrug. “I don’t have one.”

Nikto’s shoulders move back, blinking at you quickly. “You…” he trails off into a snarl of Russian. A hand comes up from his side to harshly dig into the bridge of his hidden nose.

You have to restrain a wide smile, the muscles in your face twitching.

When the doors open, you’re led into the sight of your safe place—an entire world away from the one outside the half-closed blinds of an opposite wall of all windows.

“I’ll order you one,” you try to reassure Nikto, sending him a side glance as you let all of the tension leak out of you as you step inside. “No worries.”

The man follows, jaw tense, as he stoops down and swipes up his bag.

“How is it that you do not have a second key?” Nikto’s eyes dart around the living room, not showing the slight way he’s taken aback by the size of everything and the design choice.

It was certainly…unique.

High mass, there were knickknacks on nearly every surface—a far-off ceiling due to the open second level where the rooms must be. There were hanging beads from the stairs, and plants that grew large and verdant; Nitko blinked at paintings on nearly every surface of the visible wall. A hanging chandelier that emits light over the antique-looking furniture of wood and velvet.

Even a taxidermy deer head, with its antlers holding jewelry that glints rich and luxurious. Books and painted bits of the walls that were near sheer fabric draped as an accessory from the top of bookshelves.

“Sorry for the mess,” you utter, sincerely, “if I’d been told that you were going to be staying here, I would have gotten the spare room ready.”

The kitchen is simple and mixed in with the living room in the form of a large island piled with magazines and notebooks.

You sigh and look around, wrapping your arms around your waist as you glance around the space. Not a stranger to the confused looks you’d get from your style.

Aly described it as a fairy tale. A hut in the woods holding secrets and magic. So different than what AMA had you displayed as—a cold angel of white and sharp feathers.

A product of some great lust machine.

“Just wait until he sees the loft,” you murmur, thinking about all of the various fabrics and tailored clothes you’d had in the open space directly when you walk up the stairs. The Dress Form torso mannequins wearing dresses you’d made with pricked fingers and shaky nerves.

You hoped he hadn’t met his Soulmate, because you’re sure it’s a hideous mess of colors up there. The thought makes you pause, and you realize you haven’t asked that question to yourself yet.

Did Nikto see color?

“No need,” Nikto immediately returns to his stoic monotone at your concern over the state of things. “I make do. Step aside.”

Slipping off your shoes, you place them in the old claw foot parlor table you’d made into your entryway storage, glancing at the void as he walks around your creaky wooden floors with his heavy boots.

“Shoes,” you remind, voice light.

The beast halts, his back to you halfway onto your handmade Persian rugs. You watch his fingers twitch around his duffel bag straps, as you go to close your secondary door; hiding the gaping wound in the building as the elevator leaves. A soft click emanates just as the man grunts lowly and lets his bag slam to the floor.

In one movement, the Russian bends down and unlaces his boots in firm and quick motions, grabbing them and turning like a puppet on a string. He plants them next to yours on the parlor table and sends you a tight look with hard eyes.

Nikto’s accent flares in his quick comment. “You are strange, Girl.”

You hum and shift out of your jacket, folding it and placing it atop the shoes.

“Oh, so I’m strange because I don’t want you tracking dirt on my clean rugs? The people you live around must be slobs.”

“We do not live around others.”

You blink, staring into his eyes as your skin pulls lightly. “Then I’m sorry. That must be very lonely.”

Nikto’s muscles tense under his gear, great thighs hardening. He growls low after a moment of stiffly watching you. “I do not need pity, certainly not from you,” and then stalks off, leaving his bag in the foyer.

Lips slightly parted, you let him walk away and snoop, taking account of the rooms and the layout for his own needs. Sighing, you rub at the back of your head before letting your hand drop back down, pulling at the fabric of your turtle neck.

You couldn’t deny that you found Nikto physically attractive—the large stature and built frame made your neurons fire, how he loped along with his bulky gear. Sure, that was natural, and despite the attitude, you did feel secure around him. He had an extensive record for a reason, and your mother would only include the best in her decisions.

It also attested to the fact that you didn’t find his aggression at all fear-inducing if that made any sense at all. To everyone else, he would be the pinnacle of an axe murderer, but, for some reason, he didn’t feel like that to you. A bit loose, sure, but the knowledge that this man was entirely mission-driven sat well with you.

It confused you—why did you not entirely mind having him around?

I can live with this, you tell yourself, brushing off your sweatpants and telling yourself not to think of the bakery or about Sergi, Yefim, or Petya; Aleksandr.

But when all that’s moved away like a curtain in front of the window, the view still remains.

The Stalker.

You still couldn’t rationalize it. How could someone do that? Be so bold and brute-like? And it was all over you.

Never had you been overconfident in yourself—you knew you had the looks and the money, the ability to do what few people could, but that had never gotten into your head. It was common knowledge that every model had a shelf-life and yours would probably end sooner than later if this kept up.

Any damage to your flesh that left long-term scarring was an instant dismissal. No negative press for AMA, either.

In all of this, you were walking a very thin path of horror and reality, like a show at a circus. And you of all people know you can’t walk in a straight line.

The overwhelming feeling of being hunted was setting in and you were entirely in the woods with blood poured over your body; weighing down a dress of linen and calling the beasts to feast upon your flesh with a ravaging appetite.

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you quickly go to find where Nikto had slinked off to, suddenly very cold and not liking the silence. On the way, you flick at your record player, and the old rusty thing spits out Clair De Lune as the glass sun catchers shaped like stars glimmer from the loft’s beams.

“Nikto?” You call in question, looking around before you murmur to yourself. “Where did you get to?”

Carefully grabbing the railing to the stairs, you watch your feet as you slowly ascend, piano music in the background; fingers tight and hard as you slide it up one at a time. You only knock your foot once, two steps from the top, but quickly recover with only a huff and a tiny chuckle.

Nikto walks through the top seating area filled with your materials and fabric, glancing at every book and measuring device that you have; the half-finished pieces. You blink and watch, wondering what he’s thinking as he clicks his tongue before walking to the first door and pushing it open. Your eyes slightly widen at that.

“Well, you sure do like making yourself at home,” your voice calls to the dark figure, and you shake your head. You begin following as if he is showing you around your place and not the other way around.

“I am doing my job.” Nikto’s voice spits out from the opening as you shuffle in. He glances around the small guest bedroom quickly. “Your home is cluttered.” The Russian mutters. “Messy.”

“I call it controlled chaos.” You ease, hands slipping into your pockets beside your phone and wallet. “You’ll find I’m fond of shiny things.”

“We can tell.” Head tilting, you restrain yourself from asking why he keeps referring to himself in the first person like that.

“You’re free to take this room if you want.” There are three doors that make up the separate walls—the one you’d both just walked through, one to the adjoining library and joint bathroom, and the other to your master bedroom with a respective master bath.

All connected to one another like a train car.

Nikto grunts and slips his eyes to the bits of personalization you’d left, though not as much as the rest of the penthouse. The bed was a Full size, there was a desk with bits of lush greenery coming off from a planter, and storage for clothes in the form of a large wardrobe you’d found in an antique store.

Classy, you thought, however, your standards for decoration weren’t the pinnacle of design. A set of Russian nesting dolls from your mother was put onto shelves, and in one of the corners, a hanging oil lamp sat above a nightstand.

Gray plush duvet and a fluffy rug you were told was purple when Alyona stayed over, with large pillows that looked like bear fur.

“Again,” you send a glance to the blank stare that Nikto keeps on you. “I didn’t know you were staying over.”

“It is… sufficient.” Gruff and final, though with an air of annoyed disgust, the Russian goes into the library second to last and then heads into your room with his broad back expanding; leaving a trail of authority in his wake.

Under your breath, you quietly mock him before rolling your eyes and following. For all this, you ended up being correct. Nikto was a good distraction.

The first thing that he notices is the stuffed animals.

They take up most of the window nook, some incredibly large and fluffy while others are small and could be crushed in his palm, even sitting atop one another if the space allowed. Nikto blinks at the sight of a very large bear plushie with a small bird on the head—little felt feet sticking out in front of it.

You clear your throat, the hot embarrassment flooding your face as your smile turns sheepish.

“Just…uhm…it’s just a little bit of an addiction.” Like the rest of the house, that fairy tale feeling emanates here as well—fancy curtain holders, old tea cups holding palm-sized pewter statues, paintings, and stained-glass lamps from the nineteen hundreds.

Pale eyes tilt their gaze down to you, silent as always.

“But at least it’s not drugs!” You push out quickly, awkwardly chuckling and shrugging your shoulders.

Your feet shift from under you, the large room that you call your own not something you planned on having to describe today. There was something incredibly intimate about letting someone into your house—someone you didn’t know especially.

Nikto puffs a bit of air in something akin to a scoff, turning his head away from you but not after a slight quirk of his brow.

“Are you sure you are not on drugs?” You snap up to stare at him, falling silent for a moment as he turns and leaves.

Gaping, you stutter, slightly amused, “W-was that a joke, Nikto?” He doesn’t answer and a slow smile grows on your lips. “Hey! C’mon did you just make a joke? Awe,” you coo, “I really am good at this!”

“Stop talking.” Nikto snarls, glaring as he goes down to the ground level. “You are making my ears hurt.”

You hurry to the stairs, following after with a steady mood, chuckling.

“If you’re going to be my glorified roommate, I think talking is part of the—” A sharp gasp rips from you as your leg hits on the banister, your foot locked through the metal as you yelp loudly at the sudden pain. In a quick tilt your vision slides, a swift sensation of gravity taking over as your body takes you tumbling backwards.

You tense mid-air, mind already made up about the incoming pain of your head knocking off the hard material, your skull rattling and splitting open; blood and brain matter spilling out to coat the—

Arms snap around your waist, legs still on the top half of the stairs and back hitting a large chest as you grunt in surprise; eyes blinking wildly.

Heart hammering, your head quickly looks up only to find the piercing eyes of Nikto burning down into you. Your nose brushes his face mask, the harsh fabric of the lover half pressing into yours.

You both stay there for a moment, Nikto’s blazing gaze unphased, it seemed, by the close contact. Inside of your gut, your stomach flips, and a tightness flares in your lungs.

Upon the air, your voice stutters out, tiny, “M-my bad.” You accent it with a helpless chuckle.

Nikto’s breath brushes over your forehead, and with a quick jerk of his arms you’re set back up on top of the stares. Even here, you meet the man’s height perfectly—him a few steps below you yet still a giant.

“This will be a problem, yes?” Nikto barks out. You steady yourself on the railing and take a deep breath. “You. You are…” His eyes twitch as if trying to find the correct word in English. He grunts to himself, fingers twitching.

You tilt your head, still calming down. Your throat is tight at the heat that still emanates from where Nikto’s hands had wrapped around you.

“...Shaky?”

“Hm,” Nikto doesn’t seem like that word fits best, but he nods once firmly, folding his arms over his chest and never once releasing you from his stare. Studying you as a monster does a maiden. “Да.”

You jerkily shrug, rubbing at your neck with one hand.

“Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you,” your lips tilt in an amiable smile—trying to play off what you say as you continue. Nikto’s body goes still, yet his attention never leaves. His eyes narrow. “I should have told you when we met, but you were, eh,” you chuckle, looking away for a moment. “Pretty quick with wanting to leave.”

A strained silence falls; an unknown emotion in the air.

“I—” Your voice is cut off by your phone vibrating from inside of your pocket, and with your hand snapping to that general area, you blink in surprise. “Oh.”

Fishing it out with awkward fingers, you find the illuminated screen and a text from Alyona calling up to you.

‘Video call w AMA & managers. 5 min. Be ready!’

“Shit,” you mutter, immediately going into your professional headspace.

But before you can rush off to grab your computer and slap makeup on your face, Nikto’s hand yanks your phone from your grasp. Blinking at your empty palm, your face darts up with a swift offense growing.

“Nikto!”

“Quiet.” The man taps into your contacts and you watch helplessly as he begins slashing in his own number with his digits firmly pressing in hard intervals to the keypad.

Huffing, you shake your head and leave him there to do what he needs to do, not overprotective of a device and more concerned with the time constraint that was leveled like a noose around your neck.

You had to look somewhat good for the call, after all, they could be waiting to tell you you’re fired.

They wouldn’t do that with Alyona there, you reason as you narrowly dodge running onto a side table before you enter your room again, though this time from the main door. Not the managers either.

Your lips pull straight.

But if the CEO was on call, then you’d have to worry. He had no problem being ruthless about policy and public image, always so pretentious with his power over all of the men and women employed at Allurement.

But then again, he had always seemed to take an interest in you, anyway.

You slip out of your turtleneck and pull on a silk top that seems either white or a very very pale color—either way, they always put you in something near to white, so it didn’t matter. Since it was a video call, there was no need to show your bottom half; the sweatpants stayed.

Makeup was the hard part.

With your nerve spasms always showing up at inopportune times, it took a long time if someone else wasn’t doing it for you. You had ways to combat it, sure, but none you could get ready in five minutes.

Three, you tell yourself.

An idea hits your head like a rock.

“Nikto!” You call, rushing to your vanity and pushing aside a plush raccoon to snag your mascara. There wasn’t time for anything else. “I have a favor!”

“No,” the man materializes in the opening of your door, the backdrop of your fabric mess in the loft behind him; the clashing of shades momentarily confuses you, blinking quickly, but you recover with a huff and a plea.

“I need you to put my mascara on—my hands are too unpredictable right now.” He’s growling in the way you’re already accustomed to. This must be one hell of a day for him. “Your job is to protect me right? I need you to protect me from public humiliation.”

“Then humiliate yourself.” Nikto’s narrowed eyes lower even farther, face turned sharply to you as you walk over and hold out the stick. “This is not my job.”

You dig hard into his eyes, serious if not a bit willing. “I’d owe you.” Your tone is hard but true.

The Russian bear’s shoulders roll slightly, getting higher and more irritated. He grunts at you. After a long and heartstopping moment, he grabs onto your pocket and slips your phone back inside, jostling your body into his as you make a noise in surprise.

In that same movement, the mascara stick is yanked from your hand and fingers grapple onto your chin.

Your eyes go wide; body instantaneously tensing, as the unyielding grip moves your chin to the side and one hand unscrews the mascara with a slight pop of the seal.

“You are dependent,” Nikto’s digits are tight, but you don’t blink or pull away as the stick spreads pigment. “I do not like it, Girl. Like child running with a knife.”

“Aren’t you such a ray of sunshine?” You grumble but stay deathly still. Nikto’s body is tight against yours, leaning over you.

The guy certainly didn’t mind getting handsy if he needed to. Thinking like that makes your feet shuffle tinily under you, a heat emanating from your cheeks and your thighs momentarily becoming stiff.

His body warmth bleeds through his bulk; the grating press of his chest plate to your upper body.

“Stop breathing,” Nikto hisses and your cheek is moved to the side, knee knocking into his leg.

You feel and see the stick descend and move your lashes delicately, quite adverse to the attitude you’re getting. The Russian is attentive and set on getting his task done, even if he despises it.

“What kind of a request is that?!”

“Hush!” He barks and you both try to glare at each other as the last of the mascara is bushed on. “Get out.”

You pull back and frown up at him.

“I’m sorry you think that your attitude is appropriate, Nikto.” With your nose in the air, your hands grapple for your laptop on the way out of your room and sit at the desk out in your loft. Tossing a stack of fabric to the floor and brushing down the surface.

Behind you, there’s a plain-colored sheet hung to the wall for conferences—and you make sure it’s in place as you plop down to your seat.

Nikto’s angry eyes bore into you from the doorway, which he slowly leans against and crosses his arms heavily.

He mutters under his breath in fast Russian, shaking his head as you unlock your laptop and log in, easily clicking where you need to go and pulling up your video call with twenty seconds to spare.

Alyona’s face appears first, looking to the side, and you send a soft smile before you unmute yourself.

“Feeling better?” The woman perks up, eyes coming to you. She beams.

“Солнышко!” You laugh, tilting your head. “No, no, forget about me, how are you?” Aly gives you her full attention. “I need to come over and visit, yes? We should have a girl’s night again. Just us.”

“I’m…alright,” you simply say, fast to reassure her of her worries. There was no need to burden the model with your fears. Not when she’s still living with her own. “And that might be a bit difficult on the ‘just us’ part, unfortunately.”

She sighs but is serious in her concern.

“New bodyguard, Seraph?” Nikto listens to everything from across the loft, and you glance up at him before you open your mouth to speak in the affirmative.

“Live-in.” Alyona thins her lips, but, surprisingly, doesn’t seem off-put.

“Perhaps that is good, hm? If it’s to keep you safe, I would be willing to deal with it.” Before you can admit that it’s not the worst idea in the world, though draining, three others pop into the call.

Yours and Alyona’s managers, and, of course, the CEO of AMA.

You have to hide your curse before it sneaks out of your mouth. Everyone greets one another, and you send polite smiles and hellos in return. Corporate professionalism a virus that sweeps your features into a mask of compliance and brain-dead agreements.

Kliment Fedorov, CEO of Allurement Modeling Agency, shows his large and round face in the very center of the screen; with tiny eyes like a fly and a bald head. He’s in his office.

The man calls your name and smiles wide, pure white teeth leaning more towards fake looking than just the results of frequent brushing.

“It is good to see both of my best girls getting along. No lasting marks, I hope?” You and Aly dart look.

“None, Sir.” You both answer, still smiling and falling in line. They only speak in English for your comfort—in your manager’s box, you see his translator lean into his ear and relay the words being let out.

“Good, good! This is great news. Seraph,” you perk up, Nikto from the back shuffling while looking around his surroundings. He picks at a piece of reflective fabric on a side table with his brutish fingers, twisting it before huffing and tossing it away. He snoops as if put off by the high-mass areas, used to order and cleanliness.

Not that it wasn’t clean, but outwardly it gave off a certain impression of clutter.

“How soon can you be back? We have had even more propositions offered because of this event.” Your lungs stutter. “Mrs. Solovyova and yourself are very profitable for the company at the current time; this only made your popularity better!”

Your manager, Kostya, spits off into his native tongue with its harsh edges. Nikto’s head shifts back your way but says nothing.

Profitable? Wanted? You can’t say you’re overly thrilled at the comments. Just like you can’t say you want to get back to work when the Stalker knows exactly where you’ll be.

Who could say when he would strike again? A day? A week? Going back to AMA would make the target on your back as large as a damn elephant.

Kliment waves a hand and your manager falls silent at the sheen of anger in his fly-eyes. He continues.

“Of course, AMA had to take precautions, Ladies.” Alyona shifts in her box on the screen, glancing to the side. “We were very close to having to terminate your deal with us. Such events are…ah, dangerous for our image.”

It’s like a punch to the gut you knew was coming. The only reason you were still employed was because of companies trying to profit off of the girls who beat the odds and survived a direct attack on one of their own.

You could already see the headlines—had seen the headlines.

Aly and you know the response you need to give.

“Thank you, Sir.” Smiles are stiff, but a sheet of pleasure washes Kliment’s face.

“Well, of course, my girls! I would never get rid of such beauties, no, no. This agency is your home—I love my women like my own.” His eyes stay on you, and your body shivers even miles away. “But lovely Seraph, again, when can we have you back? Everyone has been asking, yes? Photographers lining up! But of course, you’ll keep your assigned one.”

Everyone? You swallow down saliva thinking about crowds and the peering eyes.

“Uhm,” Nikto openly stares, and you glance up at him. He offers no help above a tilt of his head; arms over his chest. “W-when would you need me back, Sir. My calendar is always free for you.”

“Good! Tomorrow, then. Mrs. Solovyova?”

“...That works for me, Sir.”

“Perfect!” You sigh and close your eyes for a moment before the CEO jumps into business—your managers taking notes in preparation for scheduling and locations. “I will send the details over to your departments and good wishes to the companies, I’ll expect to hear of you both being in tomorrow.”

He leaves the call, but not without a smirk forming on his face.

The managers talk for a few moments, getting almost everything in order before they too leave.

Aly and you release a deep breath, both sagging. The other woman is first to speak.

“Bastard.” Nikto scoffs from across the room. You peek before you rub your head and nod in turn.

“A creep, one hundred percent.” Alyona sighs, and her palm acts as a headrest as she lays her chin on it. She licks her lips, face going hard.

“You don’t think that he…” Your brows tilt in confusion before you catch what she’s trying to say.

“No, Aly, it can’t be him.” She frowns. “T-that would be,” you force a laugh, hands beginning to spasm. Swiftly you move them under the desk. “That would be insane.”

Nikto takes his phone out of his pocket and taps something into the screen, feet spacing themselves in a display of a perfect soldier.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, Солнышко.” You turn away for a moment. “Anyone could be at this point.”

“My mother said there was a break-in at the bakery before the explosion. Someone planted that bomb because they guessed on an off chance that we would go out.” You breathe sharply. “Do you know how insane that is? Anyone could have,” swiftly stopping your sentence, you shake your head to clear it. “It’s…the person who’s doing this can’t blend into normal life. It has to be obvious, and everyone’s missing it.”

“Easy, Little Seraph,” Alyona eases, showing you a hand to get you to come back to her. “We will figure this out, yes?”

A hand rubs along your face and you whisper out, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you and the new man tomorrow—you know you can call me with anything. Nikifor and I worry about you. Yekaterinburg is a dangerous place, regardless.” You have to smile at that, lightly chuckling. Aly tilts her head as her hair brushes her shoulders after a moment of quiet thinking. A lighter air spreads out like her voice from the speakers. “...Who did your makeup in so little time?”

“See you tomorrow!” You grab the end of the laptop and slam it closed as the woman yells out to you.

“Don’t fuck him on the first day!” Wanting to shrivel up and die, you avoid Nikto’s suddenly brutal gaze and quickly push a smile to your lips.

“S…she’s joking.” His pale eyes aren’t amused.

Nighttime is a strange affair between the two of you.

You jump at every strange noise—like Nikto rearranging his room better to his standards—as you think of dinner for two. Laying on the couch, back in your turtle neck, it’s hard to focus above the scrape of hardwood and the low grunts from above; the distant rhythmic stomp of feet.

You rub your eyes and groan low. This was going to be a task, even for your usually placid attitude.

“What the hell does a monster eat?” The comment is directed at the taxidermy deer on your wall as you move to stand. “Liver? The souls of my enemies?” You blink, pausing before you mumble. “Maybe that’s not so bad, now that I think about it.”

Your pantry was already sparse at best.

Tapping the cupboard, you settle on something that Alyona had taught you to make with her mother. Cabbage Soup—Schi or щи—low overall in calories but still filling when you know your limits; healthy as well as hardy. You mess with the bag of potatoes and peel out a few, turning and setting them down on the island.

With the dark night soon setting in, you push the automatic button on your wall and watch the curtains close the rest of the way with a soft buzzing sound. Sighing, you flick on the lights and get to work as the gray blobs of potatoes fall apart under your knife, set to the side.

Cooking, while you still had a complicated relationship with food, did truly make you calm down. The tremors eased up, your feet stopped moving so much—you even felt yourself getting hungry as the ingredients were roughly chopped and dropped into a pot to boil.

If you allowed yourself it, you wouldn’t have minded growing up to be a cook instead of some form of greed and envy. But the thought of that now made you lose your appetite entirely.

When you’re half done with your tiny bowl, water on the side with nothing else, Nikto stalks down the stairs.

He takes one look at your bowl and speaks lowly.

“Щи.” You hum, recognizing the word that Aly’s mother had said. He grunts, chest jerking as he comes around the island to the boiling pot; his back now to you. “You will starve with that small of a portion, Whelp.”

Blinking, you sip down some of the broth from your spoon and furrow your brow. That nickname still makes your eyelids narrow in slight disapproval, but you let it go.

“I don’t think so, Nikto. It’s the last bit of calories I need for the day.” Pale eyes watch over his shoulder, pulling smaller.

“I find that insulting.” His hand grabs the ladle, bringing it up to stare. The Russian’s shoulder blades pull out at the motion, the line of his spine most likely showing through his skin under all that gear. You should tell him it’s okay to take it off, but you highly doubt he ever does outside of sleep. “Pointless.”

“You try being a model,” you remark. “You’ve got the body for it, at least. I know a few people that would swoon over the height alone.”

Nikto’s visible skin pulls, biceps tense. “Swoon, Girl?” The accent makes it sound like a bark from a dog.

You take your last spoonful, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

“Like,” pausing, you swallow, “actually I don’t know what that means. Become emotionally affected, I guess?”

“I do not care if people become ‘emotionally affected’ by my height.” Nikto pulls a bowl from the cupboard—a large one. “Such things are below me. All that matters is the mission.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff. “Sour cream is in the fridge.”

The light from the machine greets you as the condiment is taken out and emptied into a nearly overflowing bowl of cabbage soup. Blinking at the amount of food that would burst your stomach if you ate it, you shrug and clean out the last of the broth by bringing the lip of the bowl to your mouth.

Nikto huffs, looking down at the soup. He pauses.

“Where is баранины?” Your confusion must be plainly stated on your face because he seems to clench his jaw and say through his teeth. “Lamb.”

“Alyona never made it with meat,” you answer, hopping off your stool and moving to put your dirty dishes in the sink. “But I’ve heard everyone makes it differently depending on where you grew up. Was that how your parents made it?”

When you turn back around he’s already walking away from you. Watching, wide-eyed at how silently he cleared the room, you make a small sound in the back of your throat as he disappears upstairs.

The silence wafts back in, only the small noise from the record player dancing in your ears.

You lick your lips for the remaining taste of food and clean up with a still-growling stomach, shaking your head at the strange character living with you. Hoping this doesn’t drag out any longer than it has to and you’re able to find the stalker soon, you hear your phone go off on the counter as you mull over your predicament.

After you put the last of the leftovers away, you pat your hands on your pants and reach for your device, flipping over the screen and reading what will probably be a text from Aly for tomorrow.

You pause.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘Why won’t you let me love you?’

Staring, whatever sense of normalcy you had from cooking was snatched away. The blood in your veins halts with a blockage of iron and fear. Instantaneously, adrenaline spikes, making your pupils go small and your jaw clench.

Hands shake. You almost drop your phone.

With a quick punch of your fingers, you delete the text and block the number—tossing your device back to the counter and moving away from it until your back hits the cupboards.

Spasming palms slap to the stone countertop, grip tight.

You stare at the phone for a very long time, hearing nothing but the dull drone of the piano, the sounds of the city outside, and the pulse of your veins. Static was in your ears.

Gasping for a sudden deep breath, you clear your throat and turn away to finish cleaning, your body unable to stay still.

That night, like the ones previous, you find trouble sleeping.

The room was only illuminated by the fairy lights you’d strung from the ceiling, a soft fade and reentry like twinkling stars hanging in a black sky. You stare at them with open eyes, laying on your back surrounded by a multitude of quilts and blankets—pillows that crowd with doughy insides.

Nikto was turning in his bed, and the movement was setting you on edge.

The PMC had ordered you to keep the door between your rooms open at night, in case something was happening he would hear you better. You held your tongue on the fact that if this creep managed to get into your penthouse then it was already over for you. Regardless, now you could hear every shift and grunt—every huff of annoyed air.

No doubt the Full bed in the spare room was too tiny for him, nothing compared to your King.

Sighing and covering your eyes with your forearm, you call out sleepily.

“Are you sleeping alright?” The shifting stops. You wait for a response but get none. “Nikto?” Nothing.

Sitting up, your large silk pajamas hang off one shoulder as you yawn; covering your mouth you stand and steady yourself on the oak bed frame. Standing so you can get your bearings, you decide to do what you normally do when you can’t sleep.

Grabbing your phone’s flashlight, you flick it on and head to the kitchen—being extra careful and taking the stairs at half the speed you normally would. In the kitchen you grab at the stacked teacups and pick one with flowers on the sides; giggling to yourself at the thought.

Magnolia Tea.

Its smell burns into your nostrils as you prepare it in near-darkness, like a beacon of light the liquid shimmers. You remember your mother making it for you after the accident—helping you to sleep and stave off the nightmares; the insomnia.

You finish your cup in the kitchen but bring the second back up with you. Spilling only a little onto the tea plate, you go through the main door to your room and then turn to the blackened opening of Nitko’s doorway.

“I made tea,” your voice echoes. But no sound.

Maybe he was already asleep now.

“No need to drink it, but it helps me when I can’t sleep. Magnolia, if you’re curious.” You chuckle, fairy lights illuminating your face. “Sorry, I’m keeping you up. I’ll leave it in the doorway, okay?”

Silence, but perhaps a tiny huff from inside the lion's den. Good or bad, you have no clue. Slipping back into bed, you try not to think about what you’re sleeping above—the letters from the Stalker’s gifts.

You’d never opened them, and you never would. Inside that lockbox is where they would stay.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and even with the tea in your stomach, it is a long, long, time before your eyes flutter closed.

Yefim’s body dances like a puppet on a string, a shadowy figure pulling the cords and letting his decimated corpse sway; jewelry stapled into his burnt neck like a collar. A noose that your desperate fingers try to hang onto.

How long could you keep this game up?

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatos, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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eclipixels · 11 months ago

Text

His Preformer

Summary: A wealthy and privileged classmate, Coriolanus Snow, visits a strip club with friends. Unexpectedly, he discovers you performing on stage. A little OOC Coryo.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your hands shook as you looked at your paycheck from your current job waitressing. This wasn't going to be enough to cover your groceries this month if they went towards the bills.

You'd been debating for some time now on finding a new job but it was very hard. Especially with your schedule.

"Hey girl," your regular customer came in.

"Just a milkshake, I got my paycheck today and I'm trying not to splurge." The customer spoke. Her name was Sarah and she had become a regular customer at the local cafe where you worked. Every morning, she would stroll in, her vibrant personality shining like a beacon. She was friendly, chatty, and it didn't take long for Sarah and you to strike up a casual friendship.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep working here. My paycheck just isn't cutting it, and I'm drowning in bills." You spoke as you worked up the vanilla caramel milkshake.

Sarah sighed, "I totally understand where you're coming from, girl. I used to be in the same boat."

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You were? I had no idea. What did you do to change things?"

Sarah leaned in, lowering her voice. "I work as a stripper at the club down Stover street, it turned out to be a game-changer for me. The pay is much better, and I have more control over my income. Plus, it's given me the financial stability I was struggling to find before."

You consider Sarah's words and are intrigued, to say the least. Are you sure you wanna go into this?

"How do I start?" You ask.

♡

A low whistle drags through Casey's lips once he spots the dimly lit stage. Casey was one of Coriolanus's friends along with Sejanus. Coriolanus quickly glanced around the club, observing the tables and wasted men. He followed Sejanus and Casey into the heart of the building, where red LED lights buzzed as it flared through the perimeter of the ceiling.

"Table for three?" The lady at the desk asked, pen hovering over a clipboard. The boys look over at Coriolanus, and he gives them a slight shake of his head in response. They already knew he would say no. He says it every time. They still ask.

"Just two." Sejanus answers.

"Just so you know, we only take cash here." The lady said as she looked up past her computer.

"Shit- You can cover this, right, Snow?" Casey gave him Sheepish smile.

"Yeah." Coriolanus replied, pulling the $530 out his wallet and handing it over to the woman with the tight sleek bun.

"You're all set, right this way!" She smiles as she escorts the two capitol boys into the VIP private rooms.

"Great." Coriolanus whispers to himself as he is now left all alone. Despite the type of people his friends are, it was out of Coriolanus's element to be at a strip club. But, here he was.

He decided to leave and pick up his friends when they were done. While he was starting to leave, he scanned the dimly lit room looking for an exit. His eyes widened with surprise when his gaze landed on a familiar face across the venue.

You, a fellow classmate from the academy, were on the stage, captivating the audience with your graceful moves. Your hair cascaded down your back, and your confidence was undeniable. Coriolanus remembered you as the easily angered and studious girl who sat next to him in statistics, not whatever this was. What a surprise, he thought.

He had always found himself behaving childishly with you with both your bickering and arguing. He swore that he always tried not to engage in it but he couldn't help it, it was so fun to tease and mess with you.

He couldn't help but watch you perform. Thank God there weren't many people here on Monday nights, but even with the very few people that were here, watching you, something burned in his chest. He didn't like this feeling.

After your performance ended, he made his way to the bar, trying to blend in with the crowd. Ordering a drink, he formulated a plan. He wanted no one else to see you like that. He looked at all the university boys and middle aged men in the crowd. They didn't deserve you. But, neither did he and he knew that. However, that didn't help the pang in his chest.

Coriolanus knew if you saw him, you'd kick him in the balls before he could even get out a word. So, he spotted a rack of masks for sale near the entrance and selected one that covered most of his face. It was exactly what he needed.

With the mask now concealing his identity, Coriolanus approached the reception lady and discretely handed her a wad of cash. "I'd like to purchase a week's worth of dances for that performer," he said softly, avoiding eye contact.

The reception lady, who was used to such requests, nodded and discreetly noted down the transaction. Coriolanus's heart raced as he watched her send the message backstage. You wouldn't know who had paid for your week.

As you finished your shift and emerged from the back, you were met by Linda, the receptionist, who handed you an envelope. "A masked man bought a week's worth of dances from you," She explained. "He's waiting in room 7"

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took the envelope. You had no idea who could have done this. You opened it, revealing a substantial amount of cash.

Back in the room, Coriolanus was dealing with the consequences of his overthinking, debating whether or not to just leave a note saying he didn't want the dances and to accept the payment as a gift. But, he knew if he did that, you wouldn't appreciate it. You were a girl who only enjoyed the fruits of your labor and would never accept anything out of charity. Stubborn. That, and the fact that you would probably still perform, so he had to take up your slot so no one else could see you.

Coriolanus knew this was selfish and maybe even weird to some people. But it's a win for both parties, so what's wrong with it? You're still making cash.

The door opens and it snaps Coriolanus out of his thinking.

"So, You're the guy who rented my whole week out?" Your voice boomed through the confines of the room, he always heard you before he saw you.

God, there you were. Y/n L/n, and you were practically dripping in gold. Coriolanus never wanted an incarnation of something so desperately as in this moment. He scanned you from head to toe and a smile broke out on his lips as he watched you tap your foot and cross your arms.

"Yeah, got a problem with that– what was your name again?" He speaks.

"Angel" You huffed, not sparing him a glance. He stifles a laugh at your announcement.

"What's so funny?" You quirked a brow, hands now dropping to your hips.

"Nothing. It's just- you're anything but an angel." He laughed, throwing his head back as he leaned back on his palms.

"Who do you think you are?" You scowl, cheeks turning a shade of red, and he couldn't help but find it amusing. This whole situation humored him.

"Clock's ticking, babe." He takes a sip of scotch, gesturing with his fingers to the cool, metal pole.

"You want a show?" You smirk, walking over to the pole. "I'll give You a show" your voice saccharine as the words rolled off your tongue.

Your thighs gripped around the metal as you lifted both your feet up and twirled your body in a spiral. You gracefully flipped yourself and came back down, the muscle on your thighs and arms flexing as you did.

"How's that for a show?" You smirked, fixing yourself into a position known as the skater pose.

"Impressive. How about you strip for me now? I mean, that is what I paid for." He started to get cocky.

"Of course." You bit your lip in annoyance and gave a fake smile, swallowing back a snarky remark. You took off your fitted but revealing top and skirt, leaving you in a spaghetti strap crop with shorts that were given to you by the staff.

"All of it." He commanded sternly, resting his chin on his palm with a lustful grin. Your lips curved as you stripped into only your red two-piece lingerie. Unbeknownst to you, his favorite color.

"What a sight for sore eyes.." Coriolanus mumbled low, his heart starting to race. You looked extraordinary, like an image of a goddess and he couldn't believe it was all in front of him like that. He felt so unworthy but- fuck, was he so greedy towards wanting you.

"What? Got nothing to say now?" You teased. It took a few seconds, but suddenly, he grabbed your waist and stood up, his free hand going up to cup your face.

"Y’know, red is my favorite color, pretty girl" He states, face inches apart. So close. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

You didn't know what came over you, or what you were feeling for this stranger. Why did it feel like your heart was ready to jump out every time his hands wandered over your exposed skin?

"Who are you?" You ask finally, resting your hand on his neck. Gosh, you didn't realize how tall he was until now, or how his curly blonde locks of hair fell over his masked face. Who was he? Who was this man that bought out your entire week and indirectly helped you be able to pay rent for the next four months? The sound of a phone buzzing brought you back to reality from your thoughts

"Sorry darlin'," he playfully pouts, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear to get one last good look at your enchanting face.

"But, I gotta go. My friends are done." The mystery customer sighed sympathetically before grabbing his coat and leaving you inside the private room like nothing happened between you two.

You didn't know much about this job but what you did know was people came here for lustful reasons yet you felt something motivated by a different emotion behind that man.

Who was he?

♡ - a few days later - ♡

The sleep deprived woman, you, walked into class, the click of your shoes alerting the blonde haired boy whom you classified as an, 'arrogant, stereotypical asshole'.

"What are you looking at?" You snap, noticing his gaze on your ass. You were contemplating whether or not you wanted to stab him with your pencil right then and there.

"Nothing" he muttered looking away, completely dazed as his mind worked through the flashbacks of his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass between his palms as he fucked you.

"Dumbass," You muttered to yourself.

"You're not much of an angel yourself, either.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

No one else would've thought anything of this. It was common for Coriolanus Snow and Y/n L/n to bicker the whole damn day if they ever had the time. So no one else caught it.

Except for you yourself. Dread set in as you tried not to overthink the word he used. Angel. There's no way in hell anyone knew about your new side job. How could anyone, you’d only been with one guy ever since you started. Shit, he's the only guy on your roster there.

You sighed and did you best to get over it. Besides, You'll confront the mystery customer tonight when he comes again.

In the meantime, oblivious to you, Coriolanus needed to do something about the tightening of his pants. Fuck.

♡

"Starting to think you’re wearing red more often on purpose" the mystery man spoke.

He was back there again for the fifth time this week. Same old routine and although you knew not to have sex with the customers, you couldn't deprive yourself the pleasure that came with getting fucked so damn good. You craved to have him inside you.

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be flustered by the little compliments he always gave you. It was hard for you to decipher if he was being genuine or not. Besides, what would it matter if this guy knew about you little infatuation with him. It's not like something could be done about it.

"But.." He whispers next to your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. You shivered as a chill ran down your spine with the touch of his index finger roaming along your bare skin.

"I think," he glides the flat of his palm down from your arm to the small of your back.

"It suits you way better off." He finishes his sentence by placing a delicate kiss to your neck while unclasping your bra. The fabric fell to the floor, and a gasp issued out from your lips.

"I don't even know your name and I could get in so much trouble." You spoke as if the words that left your mouth mattered to you. You let this man fuck you before so many times within the past few days, so why was it different this time?

"You're saying you don't want me?" He pouts, trying his best to not cum in his pants from you ass rubbing against his crotch when you bent over to pick up your bra.

"Well..." You bit your lips in shame. You did, you really fucking wanted to.

"Just say the words, Angel," He whined. "and I'm all yours,"

"I-" You choked. Your brain was screaming yes.

"Don't think of the consequences." He reassured, trying his best to conceal the want in his tone.

"Okay." You answered breathly, giving in to your desires.

"Okay? Are you certain?" He wanted to make sure. "You can always stop whenever you want–" He was cut off by the abrupt kiss from your honey coated lips.

"Yes." You firmly stated. Coriolanus grinned mischievously before hoisting you up, legs naturally wrapping around his waist. Your cognitive thinking went haywire as soon as he snaked his arms around you, holding you steady.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth and you could taste the liquor that stained his tongue. You knew he was muscular but you never truly took into account how strong that made him. His muscles flexed as he went lower and lower down your body, trailing sloppy wet kisses.

"So" kiss.

"Beautiful" kiss.

The mystery man finally placed you down on the counter of the mini bar, falling to his knees. You didn't know why, but your cheeks were burning red. No person you had sex with ever had you this damn flustered.

His kisses on your lower abdomen continued. Once he reached your thighs, your heart started to race ever faster. His platinum tufts of hair pooling against your pelvis.

"You wet for me?" He whispers into your skin, breath fanning against it and hands dangerously getting closer to your core.

"No…" You stuttered, clearly embarrassed by how much your body wanted this. Wanted him.

"Oh?" He lifted a brow as he moved your panties to the side and ran two fingers down your cunt, picking up the natural lubricant that was practically pooling.

"Why’d you lie to me, Darling?" His lips form a fake frown before he licks your juices off his fingers.

"You know I only wanna give you pleasure" He dragged his warm tongue against your folds. You couldn't help but let out a cry when his tongue flicked your clit.

"Is this good?" He asks, the words vibrating against your heat.

"Mhm," you moan, hands finding their way into his hair and using it to anchor yourself against his face, grinding your hips down on it.

"Fuck!" You moan out in pleasure. You’ve never felt this confident with a guy before. You guessed it was something about not fully knowing his identity that gave you more courage. That you can walk out of here and never see him again in your life. He only existed here and something about that made you less fearful.

"You close?" His words were muffled against your needy cunt.

"Yes." You gasp out. Suddenly, he pulls away from the grip between your thighs.

"What? Why'd You do that?" You confront frustrated.

"Well, it's not fair for you to come before you even touch me." He answers arrogantly. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he go from being so sweet to such a jerk?

"Fuck your feelings," You groan before undoing his jeans, about to pull his boxers down too but he catches your wrists before you gets the chance.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He stares at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Since you're all about fairness, I'm gonna give myself a reward for all the hard work I've been doing." You state as if it's a matter of fact.

"No, what's fair is all that hard work has been rewarded with several bands." He chastised.

"So I can't enjoy my job?" You scoffed with a weak argument.

"Nothing in your job description says anything about fucking. In fact, You're strictly told not to." He chuckled. You didn’t know that he knew about the rules, how naïve.

"So you want to stop?" You challenged. Gosh, why were you so difficult?

"Do you want me to stop?" He fired back with the same tone. You turned your head to the side and scowled immaturely as a response

"That's what I thought," he conceited. He picked you up and placed you down on the loveseat. You peeked through the corner of your eye as he pulled down his boxers.

He was touching himself slowly but he really didn't need to with how hard he already was. You squeezed your legs and gripped the seat from sexual frustration. This was fucking torture. He knew how bad you wanted him and took that to his advantage.

"Want something, Angel?" He taunted.

"Need" You mumble the word.

"Oh, I know,” He mocks, pulling you legs closer to him which made you yelp in surprise. You were entranced with how he handled you, finding the delicate balance between rough and gentle to be perfect. Coriolanus committed to memory every aspect of your body, from its curves to the way it responded to his touch.

"Gonna fuck you ‘till you forget your name," He groans as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

"Yeah?" You breathe.

"Mhm, gonna fuck you so good, you'll forget any other person who's ever had the privilege of touching you like this." He says before sinking himself into your body. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Tell me how much you love it." He throws his head back, hips grinding smoothly against you like sweet molasses.

"So much," your words were barely coherent and his pace unforgiving. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, and filthy noises spilled out from both your throats.

"Tell me how bad you want it." His voice was no longer as rough as it was but instead had been replaced with neediness and whimpering.

"Till I can't walk." Your mind goes blank, and you are starting to babble.

"You look so cute going dumb on my dick." He coos, swooping his head down to place sloppy kisses. You squeeze your eyes shut from the sensitive sensations of his teeth on your collarbone.

"Faster," you whine, clawing your fingers on his back.

"If I go any faster, this loveseat is gonna break," he replied, and he was right. The furniture wasn't very sturdy.

"But, if we take this to my place, maybe I could." He flashes a boyish smile.

"In your dreams, mystery man." You roll your eyes at him.

"Mystery man?" He quirks a brow, pace starting to slow.

"Well, you never really told me your name." You moan out, sweat starting to bead on your skin at the slow dragging of his cock against your walls.

"I really thought you'd know me by this point, Y/n." His lips curved into a cheshire grin and you felt your heart stop. What did he just call you?

"How do you know my name?" Your mouth parts.

The man sighs before saying, "Y/n L/n, you’re from the districts but somehow managed to attend the Academy, you’re studying economics and you sit next to me first and fourth hour."

"How do you know all this– wait. Did you say we go to school together?" Dread set into you, and you quickly pulled the blonde haired man off of you.

There's no fucking way. You went to school with this guy? Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were screwed.

For a moment, everything was silent. Coriolanus's amused look faded. All there remained was worry etched onto his face. You stood there, face twisted into that of fear and concern of the unknown. Your hands gently came up, and your fingertips grazed the plastic of the mask.

"Who are you?" You asked for the dozenth time in an almost rhetorical way. What you really meant was who was this guy that you got yourself so tangled up with.

Coriolanus shuts his eyes as you took it off. The object clatters onto the floor, and your hand quickly clasps over your mouth.

"Coriolanus? You fucking Capitol brat!" You scream. "You need to fucking leave, I don't care how much you paid, leave." Within seconds a switch got flipped off in your brain and you knew nothing but anger.

"C'mon, darling. Don't be like that." He pleaded with a frown.

"Be like what? Angry? Upset? Enraged? Because I am! I am furious, Coriolanus. Who the hell do you think you are? I bet you already told all your little other egotistical jerk friends about this. How many people know? You know what, I don't even care. I can't fucking believe this right now, I just–" This time, he cuts you off and places his lips against yous like his life depended on it. He wanted you to feel everything he felt through that kiss.

You stood shocked and fought off the way your body wanted to melt into the kiss. You wanted to give in so bad, so so bad.

He pulled away and trailed down your jaw, and you let him. His lips felt so delicate and plush against your body, like they belonged there.

"I didn't tell anyone." He whispers gently, voice fragile and genuine.

"Find that hard to believe,"

"Y/n, please." He begged, and that's when you really looked into his eyes and read his face. He looked sincere and like he was about to break.

"I know you think I'm an asshole," he starts.

"I don't think, I know." You interrupt. He sucks his teeth as a response.

"But, I would never do something like that to you. When have I ever done something like that to anyone?" He reasons with you.

"I guess... You're right." You admit. He was right, he never had done something like that. Maybe you had unjustly judged him. Now that you thought about it, you had no valid reason to hate him.

"That still doesn't answer my main question. Why? Why did you buy my whole week? Why me if it wasn't to embarrass me?" You spoke.

"I don't know, I don't know why I did it at first. But now, I just can't imagine you with anyone else. The thought of you touching anyone else or letting anyone else touch you, I don't want that." He shakes his head, not noticing how his body tensed up.

"You like me?" You question.

"Well, I don't just have sex with anyone." He frowns, a tad bit hurt.

"Doubt that." You mutter.

"I'm serious." The expression on his face is stone cold, and you could tell that he wasn't lying. Yet, you couldn't wrap your head around it. He was the mystery man? The same guy that had you weak in the knees and red in the face? The same guy that irked you every second of the day that he saw you at school?

"I believe you." You sigh, letting your crossed arms loosen and fall to your side.

"Do you still want me?" He asks, eyes looking up at you with desperation.

"Look, I'm sorry for flipping out, but I can't do this, especially with you of all people. You're lucky there's no sharp objects around me. But, fucking you would just be embarrassing to my self-woth." You proclaimed before turning around to pick up your clothes.

"Are you sure?" He asks, his whole demeanor changing. You stood back up and when you did, you felt your back against his chest and your ass pressed up against his cock that was still covered in your wetness.

"Because I remember quite fondly how bad you said you wanted me and how good it felt when I was so deep in you." His playful behavior returned, and his teasing touch was making its mark on your skin again.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it’s not gonna work." You defected, voice betraying you.

"Really?" He implored. "You don't want me anymore?"

You didn't respond, knowing that if you did, you wouldn't be able to lie. Not when he looked at you with those eyes.

"You're saying you don't wanna feel me in you again, fucking you over and over again?

You whimper in response, forgetting how to form sentences as you mind went in a haze of lust.

"Asked you a question, darling." He pressed on, giving a sharp and sudden nip to your ear with his teeth. He doesn't move, giving you some time to think.

"If we do this," You begin. "What will happen after?"

"Whatever you want." Coriolanus spoke with want and desire.

"You mean that?" You ask sternly to make sure.

"I really do." he says before kissing you once again, a form of reassurance. He couldn't ever get enough of you.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you’re in love with me." You spoke, clearly feeling the emotion he wanted the kiss to convey.

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?" You ask confused.

"Know better." He restates.

"Coriolanus Snow, are you in love with me?" You gasp, holding a soft grasp on his shoulders.

"You have no idea..." He whispers lowly, anguish evident in his tone.

"Fine, we can do this. But I'm in charge, okay?" You clarify.

"Whatever you want, Darling." He spreads his legs for you and leans back. You get up and align yourself with his body once again before slowly sinking down onto him, hissing at the sensation.

Curses fall from his mouth, and gratification flows through him like tidal waves. He trembles underneath you, and each time you bounce back down on his thighs, it feels better than the last. He senses his mind on the verge of collapse every time, and he starts to short circuit. Pleasure has never been so satisfying as it rakes through both your bodies as you allow each other to be safely vulnerable.

♡

It's been two days since the incident and since you and Coriolanus both talked to each other. You said you needed some time to think after Coriolanus asked you if you wanted to formally court him. You weighed the pros and cons and how you wouldn't need to work at the club anymore.

"Hey, you coming to class?" The text on your phone read.

"Yes." You replied back to him. You made up your mind on your decision and plan to convey it to him in person when you meet face to face.

You walk into class and immediately notice how anxious the ivory haired man looked. His knee was bouncing, and his hand kept raking through his hair.

"Hey," You unintentionally startle him.

"Oh! Hi." He shoots you his classic Coriolanus Snow smile, charismatic and charming as ever. "You look gorgeous."

"I just got out of bed." You laugh at his attempt at flattery.

"I still think you're pretty."

"Well, thank you, Coryo." You smile before pulling out your chair and sitting down next to him. “You look pretty, too”

You catch the way his cheeks flush, but you don't mention it.

"Have you thought about what I said?" He asks, playing with the ring on his hand in anticipation, a habit he picked up since childhood.

“I have. Coriolanus, I think you're a pretty decent guy and all." You start off your sentence.

"You don't feel the same way?" He presses his lips into a line.

"Yeah." You sigh sympathetically, noticing how he didn’t catch the inauthenticity in your tone.

"It's fine, I understand." Coriolanus gave an understanding look, no matter how disappointed he actually was. What he didn't expect was the sudden laughter that followed after.

"I'm kidding! Yes, I'll be your girlfriend!" You throw your arms around his neck and give a quick kiss to his cheek.

"You're so cruel to me." He furrows his brows, "But worth it." He smiles back at you, engulfing you into his embrace.

#coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x y/n #the hunger games #hunger games

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supernovafics · 11 months ago

Text

waiting for steve harrington to show up to your party

wc: 889

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you weren’t waiting for him.

after thirty minutes of actually waiting for him, you decided to convince yourself that you weren’t waiting for him to show up to the party anymore. in fact, you told yourself that you couldn’t care less if steve showed up or not, and you definitely didn’t want to think about how much of a lie that was.

instead of thinking about him and wondering if he would ever come, you allowed your friends to pull you into the kitchen to take a shot and then you watched from the sidelines as a few of them got involved in a very heated game of beer pong.

you hated how your eyes kept traveling back to the front door every so often— waiting, expecting— but you truly couldn’t help it.

“it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t come,” one of your friends told you, her voice loud enough so you could hear her over the music. “there are other hot guys here. and no offense but probably better than steve.”

you rolled your eyes at her statement. yes, there were guys there, some of whom were in a few of your college classes and were very attractive. but, there was something that you really liked about steve, and it made you not want to give any other guy the time of day. it had been like that since the moment you first bumped into him outside of family video— his shift had ended and you were going inside to find a comedy to rent. it was a short interaction that somehow managed to affect you so much. you felt like you were back in middle school with this crush that at times felt hopeless.

steve was either completely oblivious to the fact that you liked him— which you thought you made quite clear with how much you frequented family video after that first encounter, and how you excitedly invited him to this party that you and your friends were having at the house you all rented together for school— or he just didn’t have the same feelings.

you’d rather think that he didn’t see your obvious flirting cues than the latter.

your friend could practically see how fast your mind was moving, thoughts fully consumed by steve.

“let’s get another drink,” she said and you didn’t protest as she led you to the kitchen.

you grabbed a cup and filled it with the punch you helped make earlier that was almost completely alcohol but still a little bit sweet.

when your friend got pulled into a conversation with a guy that you recognized from your early morning statistics class, your eyes couldn’t help but travel back to the front door.

and finally, there he was. walking into your home and closing the door behind him.

you quickly drank the rest of your drink and discarded the cup before going over to him.

“you actually came.”

steve gave you a small smile. “yeah, of course, you invited me.”

you wanted to play it cool and act like his words did nothing to you, but it was really hard not to smile at that.

“wanna see my room?” you asked. your slightly inebriated brain couldn’t see how much of an innuendo that question was until you said it and you quickly tried to recover. “i didn’t mean it like… that. it’s just really loud out here.”

steve nodded and let out a small laugh. “yeah, let’s go to your room.”

you grabbed his hand and started walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“my humble abode,” you said when you walked in and flicked on the lamp that barely gave any light to the space.

“it’s nice,” he responded as he started looking at the random trinkets you had sitting on top of your dresser.

you smiled at him. “thanks.”

it was then that you realized that you two were still holding hands. you gave his hand a light squeeze and he did the same to you, a small smile on his face.

if the circumstances were a bit different and your mind wasn’t a bit fuzzy, you don’t think you would’ve taken the plunge, but you did. instead of overthinking everything, you leaned in close to him and pressed your lips against his, but he almost immediately pulled away.

“you’re drunk right now,” he said softly. “i wanna do this when you’re not.”

in that moment, you felt offended that he was kind of rejecting you, but later you would think about this moment and feel glad that he didn’t kiss you right then.

because it would make the first time you actually kissed each other a thousand times better.

“i really like you,” he said.

you smiled at him. “i really like you too.”

steve smiled back at you. “cool, great. glad to know we’re on the same page about that.”

maybe it was your slight inebriation, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was a little nervous right then.

“you really didn’t know this whole time?” you asked. “that i have a crush on you?”

in your mind, it always seemed so obvious to you that you liked him.

steve shook his head. “sometimes i’m an idiot about this stuff.”

“yeah, me too,” you whispered.

“you wanna get some food? i know a great diner that probably serves the best pancakes.”

you smiled and nodded. “pancakes sound amazing right now.”

#had this sitting in the drafts for Months and i’m finally getting around to posting it🫡#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb

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unholyhelbig · 6 months ago

Note

I for one would not mind more werewolf kate

Title: Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot [6/?]

Summary: After reader is attacked by a strange animal in the woods, her world is flipped upside down. Now she must navigate a new life filled with strangers and myths.

Trigger warnings: Hunting, the actual werewolf transformation, restraints (hands, legs, neck), bloody & Gore, pet names, let me know if I've forgotten anything pls.

[A/n: I was really fucking sad when I wrote this, and for that, I apoloigize. This isn't a gentle chapter, so please read with caution. And as always, I did not proof read].

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

A rot of leaves coated the forest floor, filling your lungs with an unsettling pungent scent. The world had blurred edges, somehow caving in on itself with each passing second. The trees whizzed past you, an ache that once covered your entire being had ebbed away the faster you ran.

There was such an intoxicating scent that led you blindly. It was floral and sweet and screamed above all the deteriorating vegetation. You’d run so far, so fast and without hesitation. What was that? You needed to sink your teeth into it, to taste it. You would simply die if you didn’t.

It was a girl. Yes. A girl.

She was running too, but not nearly with enough speed as you. She stumbled over fallen logs and branches dug into her skin. They created gashes of dripping red that made you salivate. She was cornered against a fence, fingers curling around the chain link.

You regarded her, taking a moment to register the hot pain in your chest. How far had you followed her? It was ways from home, you knew that much, but none of that seemed to matter. No- because she was right in front of you, and she was captivating.

In your excitement, you took a careful step forward and a small noise escaped her throat. Her eyes were frantic as she took in your hulking and animalistic stature. She was afraid, and part of you was too. Something had led you to her, to this sadistic chase that had cornered you both.

Her blood tasted sweet just like her scent. Your teeth crushed bone, tore through tendons with such a simple ease.

She was yours.

Sweat had soaked through your sheets and clung to your bare legs, even as you shot up and pulled in a helping of air. Your skin buzzed as if it were set ablaze with fever. The waning moon cast a sickly pale light against the room. Your heart pounded ruthlessly against your chest.

That dream had left you antsy, and horrified. You never remembered your dreams but this one was vivid, almost like it was a memory. The coppery taste made your mouth dry. You were restless, wide awake despite the red numbers on the clock indicating that it was just past 3:00am.

You couldn’t hear anything through the walls that had been doubled down in strength despite your enhanced senses. The house was as good as silent, though you figured it statistically impossible for everyone to be asleep.

The hallway was dark compared to your room, filled with moonlight. You padded a few steps before you stopped in front of Kate’s door. It pained you to be here, begging for some type of comfort. The dream had left you rattled. Afraid.

It was getting closer to the full moon and your thoughts had been plagued with the pain that you’d read about so diligently. Scanning the inked words on a yellowing page was nothing compared to the experience of it all.

Swallowing your pride, you knocked twice, knowing that she could hear you. It took Kate a few moments to untangle herself from her blankets. You could pick up on her stumbling her way across her room until she swung the door open.

The girl tried to be suave, giving you a tired smile as she leaned against her doorframe. Her hair was sleep-worn and springing in various directions. She wore a pair of boxers with little purple arrows against the fabric and a tank top that was riding up enough to expose the smooth expanse of her stomach.

“Hi,” You swallowed the dryness in your throat, pulling your eyes from her muscular frame. Her cheeks were blooming with a fond pinkness. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were freezing, that the sweat you’d produced during the odd dream had dried taught against your skin. A shiver worked its way through you, and you crossed your arms over your midsection, trying to preserve what warmth you had left.

Kate lilted her head and stepped to the side without a second thought. She beaconed you into her room. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the light of the moon. Her comforter was drawn back, pillows scattered against her bed. She must have been engulfed in a deep and comfortable sleep, one that you had broken.

It helped, not being able to see the looming structure of the moon. It made you squirm, but the scent that engulfed you, the pure warmth of Kate’s mere presence, calmed your nerves. When she shut the door softly you knew that you were safe with her.

The wolf, that’s what Wanda had called it, knew what it wanted. She said that there was a blind trust that would flow through you with the girl that you’d crawled to and that feeling was only multiplying as the full moon got closer and closer.

“Don’t… say a word.” You turned to her, crossing your arms over your chest.

Despite your warning, she smiled wolfishly at you, lifting both of her hands with an innocent shrug. She looked adorably miffed by exhaustion, and that thought annoyed you more than anything. God, you really should hate her. But she looked so warm, so accepting and every inch of your body was howling for her skin against yours.

Kate settled back into bed and peeled back the duvet with an expectant look on her face. Why were you fighting her so hard? Clearly, you were tired. You’d knocked on her door and you hadn’t done that without reason. If you wanted conversation, you would have found Peter and interrupted his late night gaming.

Or maybe even Natasha who couldn’t sleep, just like you. But you did value your life, just a little bit. So Kate it was, a magnet that drew you in. The more exhausted you got, the harder it was to pull away. And really- she had been trying. Right?

Almost as if on instinct, you took her up on her offer and slid into the encompassing warmth of the duvet. There was the scent of lavender, of freshly washed sheets and the metallic breath that she drew in, almost as if she was just as shocked as you were at the action.

Kate cautiously lowered the blanket and the two of you stared at the little glowing stars on her ceiling. You hadn’t seen them since the fifth grade. America didn’t’ have the deep green celestial patterns, but instead a garden of pulsing orange and purple, and yellow flowers.

You could feel the heat of Kate’s shoulder close to yours. You were so cold, even under the blankets and she seemed like the only source of comfort from the dream that lingered so heavily on your mind.

“Do you think…”

The words died in your throat. She turned her head to face you, and after a few moments of building up the courage you turned your cheek against the pillow too, staring into a cloudy grey stare that was marred with sleep, pockmarked with questions.

“Will I ever be able to see them again?” your voice was pinched with emotion. It was fear, the both of you recognized it. Her eyes glossed over, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth to stop it from trembling. You felt emotion well up in your own chest. “I know things will never be normal again, but do you think there’s a chance?”

Kate swallowed the thickness in her throat, voice barely a whisper. “I do.”

You nodded and dislodged the tears that were fighting for dominance. Kate didn’t’ hesitate to reach up and wipe them away with her gentle touch. Her thumb was calloused, but soft. A whimper escaped you as you leaned into her touch. Kate shivered at the contact herself.

“I get why I’m here and I’m grateful for it. The last thing I want to do…” you trained off, listening to the shuttered sound of her breathing. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, ever.”

“You won’t, y/n.”

The immediacy of her statement brought you comfort. It wasn’t necessarily a reflex, but a belief that she felt deep in her core. You clenched your eyes shut and scooted closer until you felt the full effect of Kate’s presence.

The movements were gentle as you slotted yourself against her, hand laying on her stomach and moving over the softness of her shirt. She held her breath for a moment, instinctively wrapping her arm around you. You pressed your nose against the naïve of her neck, slick with tears of her own.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She quivered with guilt.

You were starting to understand, against your better judgement, why this had happened. Kate found you for a reason, and that tension, that discomfort, that was your wolf fighting for a way to get to her. And you had.

The tears that wet her shirt, the ones that coated your cheeks, they were those of relief. You curled into Kate, taking in her scent, the two of you gripping onto each other like a vice, eventually drifting towards a fitful sleep, shadowed by stars.

There was no such thing as privacy in a house with eleven people. Not when so many of them had a strict regimen of exercise, and healthy eating. There was a stark difference from life at the dorm where people rarely arose before twelve in the afternoon unless they had class, and even that was a gamble.

Instead, you stirred to the sound of a blender and the hushed voices of an indiscernible conversation. That was followed by a very discernible sound of a cell phone camera. Even without advanced hearing, you clocked it in moments.

A small groan escaped you. It was much too early to wake up. You had never been more comfortable in your life, your nose pressed flush against the crook of Kate’s neck. She shifted in her sleep, pulling you closer with an adorably tiny breath.

“Go away,” she grumbled, the words vibrating against your palm.

You tightened your grip on the fabric of her shirt. God, it was so bright. They’d pulled the curtains back and the sun was in full force. Despite the comfort, there was no way you’d drift back into sleep. That fact alone was solidified when you bolted up at the clearing of someone’s throat.

An odd hurriedness shot through your spine, forehead knocking against Kate’s chin and leaving a throbbing spot in its wake. The girl that was under you let out another small noise at the back of her throat, rubbing her jaw while depriving the world of her stormy stare.

Natasha Romanoff leaned against the doorframe of Kate’s bedroom. Wanda had been very clear about the rank in the house, and it was of no shock to you that Natasha was pretty high up there. It was why her simple sound of alert had made your entire body tingle. You knew- your wolf knew- that she was in charge, and that she was there for you.

“I checked your room first,” She stated matter-of-factly. “Obviously, you weren’t there.”

Your cheeks reddened at the predicament you’d found yourself in, and the fact that you were sure you’d heard the click of a cell phone camera. It was almost like your parents walking in on a sleepover that got a little too cozy.

Kate sat up groggily, testing her jaw a few times, “Good morning, Nat. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You can go back to sleep. I’m here for y/n. We’re going on a run.”

The wary look you got from the girl in bed next to you wasn’t exactly easing your nerves. She must have gone through this before, and she would truly object if she thought it was something you couldn’t handle. Instead, her hand found yours under the safety of the duvet and gave your fingers an encouraging squeeze.

You knew better than to object to Natasha, so you followed her orders and changed into the closest thing to workout clothes that you’d packed; a pair of royal blue gym shorts and a t-shirt that was from your last trip to the west coast. Sun, fun, and Sand.

She waited by the edge of the front yard, lifting a perfectly sculpted brow at the shirt, but didn’t say anything in acknowledgment. “We’ll do six miles up, and six miles back.”

“Up?” You squeaked out, finally earning a genuine grin from her. She started to jog ahead of you, and it took you a few moments to register that you were meant to follow her. “Back?”

The two of you kept a steady pace under the heavy hand of the sun. You felt sweat slick the back of your neck, legs screaming out in protest. You weren’t much of a runner, and had admittedly eaten one too many boxes of instant mac and cheese. But your body seemed to mold to the pace with no problem. Your muscles strained for just a moment before relaxing into he burn.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from everyone in the house how they handle a full moon.”

“No, actually,” You panted out, “everyone seems to be keeping their distance.”

“We haven’t had anyone new join our pack for years. Certainly, never this violently. Can you blame them?”

No, you really couldn’t’. They had all been so welcoming and understanding. Even Kate to a certain degree. None of that eased the fear and you figured it wouldn’t’ until you actually lived it, until every single bone in your body rebroke and reshaped until you were this insatiable creature that would seek nothing but blood and carnage. It was inside of you now, you felt it just below the surface, and that terrified you.

Your chest was beginning to burn viciously, but Natasha was showing no intention of slowing down. There was an odd need within you to please her, to make sure that you kept up with her pace despite how hard it was getting as the slight incline became a little less slight.

The woods had thickened around you both and you let out a relieved breath when she trotted to a stop on the dirt trail. The collar of your shirt was damp, and you pulled your arms behind your head to fill your lungs with more sticky air. Natasha smiled fondly at you.

“Kate tapped out about three miles back.”

“This some sort of test?” You asked, working your hand through your hair.

“A test, a tactic. Whatever you want to call it. Some of us believe that if you wear yourself out before a transition, it’ll be less excruciating on the day.”

“I read about that the other day, though, they didn’t use the word excruciating.”

“That’s what it is. Don’t let anyone sugar coat it for you, kid. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to feel every second of it.”

You plopped down on a fallen log, pressing your fingertips to your temples. You clenched your eyes shut and felt your heartbeat pulse through your entire body. Never in a million years would you figure you’d be here. Natasha’s scent strengthened when she gave your shoulder a squeeze, prompting your eyes to open.

She was rimmed in the early morning sun, ringlets of russet hair fell over her shoulders. “Come on, I didn’t make you run all the way out here for the hell of it. I want to show you something.”

Before you could object, she started down the path again, this time in a brisk walk. You let out a groan and hauled yourself off the log. When you got to where she had been, you saw nothing but a thick wall of greenery and wood. Natasha was nowhere in sight.

You closed your eyes and tried to pick up the scent of her, the detergent and the lavender and the sandalwood. Upon your second inhale, you picked up in a general direction and frowned. This was all too surreal, you were physically sniffing out a near-stranger that had led you deep into the woods.

Still, you felt a blind trust as you went off the path and continued to track her down. She was about thirty feet into the woods, standing over a pile of leaves, arms crossed over her chest. You felt yourself warm at the proud half-smile she gave you.

When you reached her, Natasha knelt and pushed back the mix of muck and leaves. It revealed two metal doors that reminded you of a summer you spent with your aunt in Alabama. It was unbelievably hot and muggy, and they had a storm shelter that was carved from the earth, the walls damp and stocked with different canned food, though you had never seen a can opener. You didn’t think to bring it up as the two of you huddled close and listened to the howling wind and rain.

“This was a long-game murder plot all along, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not into the long-game.”

Her words weren’t exactly encouraging. The hinges of the doors screamed loudly from disuse and a musty scent washed cruelly over the both of you. Your nose scrunched and Natasha grimaced but didn’t say a word. An automatic light buzzed on, allowing you to see the opened space below.

It was exactly like the storm cellar, and it’s cool interior was a brief solace from the heat of the day. There was a divide a few steps into the space, a steel wall with a door in the center, sloppily welded but with enough strength to stop a beast the size of a mid-sized Sudan.

This door creaked too, and Natasha let it linger open for a moment, staring softly at you, and then back at the room. There was safety in her stance. You knew that she had the full ability to slam it shut and lock you in, but had a deep realization that she wouldn’t.

Another light was on the ceiling, casting a circle of deep yellow. There was a deep smell of dust and dirt, but there was something hard and metallic under that. Your eyes darted to the chains that were attached to the wall, large iron things that were screwed into extra support.

More than that, were the stretching claw marks that pockmarked the walls. They went deep, past the dirt and into the cement. The pads of your fingers ran over the one closest to you. Each mark stretched further than your touch. Chills shot up to your elbow, a breath lodging itself into your throat.

Your other hand clenched your stomach, digging into your ribs. Something significant had happened here. Several significant things. Tears started to form against your eyes and the worst part was, you had no idea why.

“Those are Steves,” she said quietly, joining you within the confines of the cell, lifting her chin to another set of marks. “And Tonys.”

There were dozens of markings, all different shapes and sizes. Some were digging into the clay walls, and the floors. There were distinct scent markings on each one and you found yourself able to identify ones that belonged to Yelena, and Peter, and even Bruce. They’d all changed here at least once.

Natasha crossed the room and shifted the door until it was only slightly ajar. You straightened up, heart pulling against your throat. The door was minced with deep slashes. You shoved your hands into your pockets to keep them from trembling. They almost ached.

“You feel something, don’t you?”

Words didn’t form, couldn’t. You couldn’t pinpoint the emotion that tore through you. It was akin to longing, but it was more than that. It was like the creature that was so restless within you wanted nothing more than to claw its way out and find the person who had made those marks. They were desperate and sad, and horrifying.

You closed the distance between them and pressed your touch against the deep gashes and fought back a pained cry. You dug your teeth into the back of your free hand to quell it, but a pathetic sound still escaped you.

“Kate knew that something was wrong a few months before she escaped. She was experienced, knew as much as one could know about their wolf. But there was an unrest”

“She doesn’t like places like this.”

Your words were small. You remembered what she had told you, about how she had turned the first time alone and, in a room very similar to this one. You got the stark impression that she would never want to do something like that again. So, it begs the question of why these marks were so fresh. So fearful.

“No, she doesn’t. They scare her, make her panic before the moon has any effect. But she was conscious enough to know that if she wasn’t here, then she would end up hurting someone. It just proved not to be strong enough of a failsafe.”

Kate had felt an unrest weeks, maybe months, before she had escaped and sunk her teeth into your flesh. A wash of guilt pulled at you. You’d been giving her such a hard time, pestering her and fighting her every step of the way. She’d been in immense pain.

When the pads of your fingers touched the scratches, you felt only a fraction of the longing she must have. Grimacing, you turned away, crossing your arms over your stomach to shield you from the reality of your harshness.

You needed Kate.

“Is this where I’ll be tonight?” You asked, so softly Natasha almost didn’t’ hear it.

She nodded in response, the silence mulling between you both. A small breath escaped you, pained and held within your lungs for an abnormal amount of time. You crossed the room, picked up one of the leaden chains and weighed it against your own strength.

“I can be here with you, if you’d like.” Natasha said, filling the quiet “Or if you’d rather Steve… Wanda.”

You turned to face her, grip tightening on the chain. “Kate?”

“Kate.”

Her eyes were no longer shrouded in their silver, sullen beauty. As the sun began its descent, there was a strange tangerine glow that overtook them. It started at the center of her pupil, small whisps of neon color, and then started to ebb into the confines of her iris.

You focused on them. If you thought too much about the days leading up to this transformation, then you would work yourself into a panic. You were taking things one at a time today, and that included jogging back to the compound and shyly admitting to Kate that she was the only one you wished to have in your vicinity tonight.

Though, you hadn’t thought much about the logistics. The two of you trapped in a single cell. Yelena had walked all the way out here, keeping a silent eye on the tension that lingered against both of your frames. It wore your stance down, mind racing with the ‘what if’s’.

“Once I close this door, neither of you will be released until daybreak.” Her thick accent carried a sharp edge to it that made this finite. “There is an emergency radio, Kate knows where it is.”

They’d thought of everything, really. Yelena had handed over a sheathe of needles and a small vile that you knew had to be tranquilizer. It smelled acidic and nitrate in nature. Even your rational, human side, cringed away from it.

With a final nod that conveyed good luck, and a strong, ‘I’m rooting for you,’ Yelena exited the cell and slammed the metal door behind her. From there, she retreated, and another lock was put into place after she’d slithered a coil of chain around the outside doors. Your heart picked-up it’s pace, never one for confined spaces.

Kate seemed to hear the uptake and closed the distance between the both of you. One hand found your waist and you allowed her to give it a reassuring squeeze. The other cupped your cheek, guiding your stare. “Hey, listen to me. I know this is scary, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You believed her partially because you had no other choice. Her eyes were mostly orange now, glowing enough to cast a strange shadow against her face. You wondered dumbly if yours would do the same. Something was boiling inside of you, making your entire body sweat. It felt like you were in a sauna, breathing in the hot steam after water was poured listlessly over black coals.

“I’ll talk you through everything, until neither of us can talk. Then we won’t have to.”

“Okay, alright. That sounds good.”

She nodded at you and began to unzip her sweatshirt until the teeth of the zipper released their hold. She was wearing a black sports bra and matching bike shorts, stretchy material that hadn’t set her back too much financially. They would be torn to shreds by the end of the night, regardless.

Kate’s stomach was toned. It was tanned and showed all the stamina of a beast. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long, tried to ignore the small trail of hair that dipped below her waistband. Despite herself, Kate smiled at you cockily, but moved her hands to your own jacket.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed the dry metal taste in your mouth. “I don’t think my fingers will cooperate right now.”

She let out a small noise in response and pulled your jacket from your shoulders, leaving you in much of the same. She’d promised earlier that the two of you would go out and get clothes that you were more comfortable in, but this suited you just fine. Her pupils dilated, rushing them in more sherbet color. A stuttered breath escaping her and fanning against your bare collarbone.

“What? Oh my god, is it starting?”

You didn’t feel any different, still extremely hot to the touch and a little riled up after getting a look at Kate’s mostly-bare form. Color petaled her cheeks. She was actually blushing. Even in the dim lighting of the cell, that much was clear.

“No, no. You’re just…” She shook her head, trying to clear it “really beautiful, is all.”

“Oh,”

More blush, her eyes slipping down to the floor. “Yeah. I should probably get you secured, though. It’ll be more comfortable to sit.”

You understood exactly what she meant. Your heart was thrumming through your entire body at the compliment, though you both welcomed the distraction of a task. This task was securing locks around your wrists, and your ankles. Large iron things that could stop a lion. They were bolted into cement, digging into the foundation.

You kept your back against the damp wall, allowing Kate to fiddle with the mass of restraints. She fastened the first cuff on your wrist and looked at you expectantly. “Is this too tight? We want it to be a little loose. You’ll fill out when the transformation is done.”

“It’s alright,”

Kate diligently fastened the other three; one more around your opposite wrist, and two around your ankles. The only thing left was a chain that was intended to click smugly around your throat. She stared at it warily, eyes meeting yours.

“This one isn’t comfortable, and after tonight, you won’t need it.” She stated, using her hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes. Something was coiling in your stomach now, an unrest. A parasite that seemed to want to bubble out of your chest. “Your body will be in fight or flight mode. All of your senses will be heightened more than they are now and you’ll want to get out of these.”

“And if I do?”

“If you do, you’ll have to go through me.”

She fastened the chain around your neck, listening for the heady click. Just like the others, she adjusted and pulled on it until she was satisfied with your capture. A slight noise pushed past your lips. It felt like you had a stomachache, a cramping that would send you straight to a heating pad on any other day.

“I know, baby.” She soothed, the pet name slipping past her. She frowned, then lightened her stare. “I know it hurts. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

Her words soothed you. She backed up and sat cross-legged in front of you. There was an admiration of her control. Sweat prickled against her upper lip and at her hairline. It was an indication that you weren’t alone in this. Though, Kate Bishop had more practice, pain was eternal.

“You said I’d have to go through you,” your words were trembling. It took a few moments to force them into existence, but Kate was patient. Your legs and arms were starting to ache, just a dull thrum that reminded you of destroying your muscles to wick them back together again. “What… did you mean?”

Kate smiled and you swore her teeth were pointed at the end. Your vison was starting to blur, and you blinked away tears that dripped from your chin. “We’re not going to fight, or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I think our wolves- well, I think they’ll get along just fine.”

“Kate Bishop, are you insinuating something?”

“Me? No. Never.”

She let out a grunt, her hand going to her ribcage. There was a dull pop that jolted through her body and you clenched your eyes shut for a moment. Not wanting to see her in pain. Not wanting to see what was next for you.

You didn’t have to wait long. The pressure started to build in your forearm first, a tight pain that shot from your fingers all the way to your elbow. Almost as if your bone was straining against itself, and it was. The crack and splinter of it threw you off your balance with a dizzying amount of discomfort.

A scream tore through your throat, toes digging into the soft, damp floor. Kate let out another grunt of discomfort, dropping her elbow to the ground. Her chest was heaving, pulling air in greedily before releasing as if she never wanted it in the first place. Her efforts were punctuated by a deep and primal growl that took you back to the night in the forest.

All of your limbs were tightening now, two pops from your ribs and an extra one in your ankle. You were doubled over in a blind torment. Your cheek was pressed to the ground, the scent of dirt filling your senses. There was blood here too, so thick and potent that it was if it gurgled against your own tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you thought you heard her through your own strangled cries of pain. Her voice deep and words miffed by the growing teeth pressing against her gums. “I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck!” You cried out, the last bit of human semblance you could form. Your own words were minced with agonizing cries and a rumble from the center of your chest that sounded anything but human. It was feral. It was hungry.

Your vison pulsed around the edges, darkness creeping in. You shakily lifted your hand, watched as your flesh became shrouded with gore. It was shredded, dark gray fur sprouting over your knuckles as your skin fell away entirely. Once human nails had been replaced by claws, dripping with your own blood and muscle tissue.

They shined as if you had been baptized once more. Teeth- your own teeth, filled your mouth as they were pushed out to welcome new ones. You’d spit them to the ground, relished in the sweet taste of the blood that filled your mouth, only for you to spit again.

There was a howl, one distant that made your entire body stiffen under its command. You weren’t wailing anymore, and neither was Kate. The two of you had silenced, breathed hard and tried to find your bearings. Your collarbone widened, seemed to stretch like the rest of you. The restraints were tightening as you grew. As you changed.

Another howl cut through the air, this time you had the urge to answer with one of your own. At least, that was the last humane thought you had, before everything went black.

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #wanda Maximoff #Natasha Romanoff #Wandanat #Steve Rodgers #Tony Stark #thor odinson #bruce banner #peter parker #yelena belova #Werewolf au

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liillyliilly · 4 months ago

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2049

miya atsumu x reader words; 1262 synopsis; he chases her until he gets her.

She wishes she could crawl away from him, but he’s holding on too tight for comfort. This was only supposed to be a one night, maybe two night, occurrence. But as soon as he bites her, it’s game over and she falls back into bed with him again.

One game theory class and it was over for Miya Atsumu. She was there for her Statistics major, he was there because he majorly misunderstood what game theory was related to, and he found out the hard way that it wasn’t volleyball but rather mathematics. He had begged for homework answers from most of his classmates, and she was just the only one who actually responded to his texts.

From- Miya Atsumu: I need the notes from lecture today, preferably in dumb-dumb language

To- Miya Atsumu: I have my annotated notes, which for you would be three steps above dumb-dumb language, but close enough to function the way you need.

He liked the way she dressed. Her sweaters and skirts. Her t-shirts and jeans. He really liked the shoes she chose to wear. He wanted to play with her like the little dress-up dolls that his younger girl cousins loved to bring around to his house. Strip her down and then layer clothing items back on. Mostly strip her down though.

When she raised her hand in class he had to stop himself from drooling just from the way he reacted to her voice. Was it weird to think that a person was yummy? He just knew her mouth and skin tasted delicious. If the way she smelled was any kind of indicator, then he was in for a treat if he ever did get that far.

Whining for her to come to one of his games may not have been the ideal method of getting her to hook up with him, but it definitely had its merits. Apparently, seeing him sweaty and with a raging god-complex had done it for her enough to agree to a short make out session back at his empty dorm.

His dorm was clean enough, but there were posters of volleyball players everywhere, and medals. She liked the glimmering gold and dazzling silver, the bronze she didn’t care much for. Atsumu let her try on his most recent accolades.

She pouted her lips, then pressed the cold metal to her lips, biting the medallion to see how real it was. It stung her teeth and rattled a chill into her gums. Definitely real.

Kissing was without ceremony or red LED lights, Atsumu had given those to his buddy a few weeks ago. At first side by side on his bed, her hands in his hair, and his hands on her waist. When he pushes for more, she lets him press her into the mattress. When he presses his hips into hers, moaning into her mouth, she lets him.

When he asks if he can lick her, she lets him. When he urges her to let him in, she wraps a leg around his waist.

Atsumu didn’t ever consider himself much of a cuddler, but after her, he became one. Rubbing his head into her neck, cupping her chest with his hand, letting her use his bicep as a pillow. Unconsciously, his body captures her, his leg resting over her torso. He’s heavy enough and sleeps too much like a toddler for her to escape without waking him.

She lets him hold her until the morning. That’s the one thing she regrets from the entire experience. Because as soon as he gets used to it, wrapping her up into himself, he never wants to stop.

Maybe after that first time she should’ve told him about her relationship situation. Not quite open, not quite closed. She figures it won’t happen again so it wasn’t notable enough for her to mention it to Ushijima.

Her and Ushijima weren’t exclusive, but they did disclose. She didn’t disclose Atsumu so she hopes that it doesn’t get around to the man she actually would like to cuddle with until the early sunrise when she knew that Ushijima would go for a run. Atsumu sleeps in, no morning run to let her escape.

The second time it happens is when Ushijima breaks it off. She crashes and burns right into Atsumu’s ready and loving arms. The next morning her entire body is covered in marks, he just rests his arms behind his head and admires his own handiwork. She feels a little like a finger painting that a child does and then when they rush to show their mother, the dearest mommy can only say, “Oh!” in response to the creation done by the child.

She says it can never happen again. He says that they would have to see about that. Maybe he was some sort of poison, praying for her to come and take all of him at once instead of small intermittent doses.

When game theory class ends, they no longer see each other in classes. Except Atsumu makes regular appearances in her day-to-day life. Infiltrating her friend groups and making himself known to some degree as: the one who sleeps with her occasionally.

Eventually, she’s the one who he makes wear his jerseys on game days. She’s the one who Atsumu bites into during parties, telling her it's time to go and do other things. She’s the one he practices everything on, treating her like a science project. Exerting this much force causes how much of a fluttering in her stomach? Putting the left hand on the small of her back and pushing her up and down onto me accelerates the process by how much? How many rounds cause jello legs in the morning?

The third time around he makes her his. Tracing his name where his mouth should definitely not be for the seventh time in two weeks. He’s decently sweet when he wraps the necklace around her neck, his initials bold and shiny against her collarbones. He freezes the sweet moment by wrapping his hands around her neck and saying he thinks he likes that necklace a little more. At least her being light-headed gives him more data to add to his science fair project on how her body responds to his.

He lets his hair grow out entirely black, cutting off the bleach blonde. He quizzes her then, bringing his twin from his Food and Health Science department, having her kiss them both to see who is who in the dim light of one am chaos. Osamu likes the way she tastes too, but Atsumu says he already called dibs. Atsumu blames the shared liking of her taste on them sharing a womb at one time in eternity.

2,049. The numbers don’t mean much to her, but to him, it’s his favorite tally by the time he’s well into his career, and she’s living with him like a little toy.

That very well might be all that she is. But living the toy life wasn’t so bad. Complete adoration from Atsumu. An infinite money hack that rendered her degree useless. Huge beds and expensive vacations. The only thing that irked her was how much he liked to play with his toy. Some days she thought she would break, but she never ended up breaking, despite his boundless energy.

Dedication to the preservation of his toy was a top priority. His only real priority. He only shared with his brother, because that’s what siblings do. But at the end of the day, she was his toy. Only his.

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monarch-afterdark · 2 months ago

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Titan History: Mothra

Welcome once again to Monarch: After Dark, the digital gateway between you and the organisation dedicated to understanding and navigating this troubled new world we live in.

While most of you reading may be unaware, statistics on this social platform tell us on the After Dark team that this will be our 100th total post made, between informational entries, special reports, and answering everyone's questions! What an achievement! To mark the milestone, let us return to talking all things Titans with the mysterious and beautiful Queen of the Monsters, Mothra!

(Pictured above: Mothra's larval form, enraged by Emma Russell's misuse of the ORCA device, circa. 2019)

Monarch Database File: Mothra

Monarch Designation: Titanus Mosura

Height: 50 feet (larva), 52 feet (imago)

Wingspan: 803 feet

Nature: Unknown

Behavioural Classification: Protector

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A Titan with an extensive lineage closely intwined with the history of humanity, Mothra is often heralded as the guardian queen of the natural world, a beautiful and ethereal creature that clears out the darkness with her light and provides crucial aid to the planet's other guardians. A close ally of Godzilla, their relationship shows through eye-like patterns on Mothra's wings, and the devastating gift she is able to bestow upon him should she perish in battle.

Technically an immortal organism, Mothra is able to continually live on through different bodies, memories passing on genetically to her offspring through the eggs she lays, effectively granting Mothra the ability to reincarnate over and over. Mothra was first discovered by Monarch in 2009, though a connection between her and Monarch's Chen family spans generations of the family within the organisation.

Perhaps one of the most extreme instances of a bioluminescent Titan, Mothra uses the light generated by her body to produce powerful "god rays" that can clear cloudy skies, and be used as an energy pulse attack against other Titans. Mothra's sharpened limbs and concealed stinger also serve as formidable weapons up-close. Despite being one of the more benevolent Titans, Mothra is not to be underestimated.

There is some speculation within Monarch as to whether or not the Mothra sighted in 2027 aiding Godzilla and Kong is the true successor to the one that died in 2019. Evidence from some accounts suggests that the Mothra that resides in Malenka is instead a "mother Mothra" that has remained in the city for millenia, laying eggs on the surface so other Mothras could guard humanity, and that the 2019 individual was one of her successors. Evidence for this comes from Malenka itself, where a prophecy refers to Mothra using the same terminology as it uses for the ancient Titan Shimo, pointing to the city's guardian as the "first Mothra". While Monarch remains unsure if this is the case, this entry will refer to both Mothras collectively as one for clarity.

(Pictured above: Mothra appearing before Monarch and using her "god rays" to show a path to Godzilla's temple, circa. 2019)

Mothra's history dates back several millenia, where her allyship to Godzilla and other members of his species led to her taking their side in an ancient Hollow Earth conflict with the Great Apes. Her involvement with this battle was documented through cave paintings. At least one incarnation of Mothra was worshipped by the Iwi tribe of Malenka in the Hollow Earth, while another was seen as a diety by a primitive tribe on the surface.

Mothra would face death and rebirth multiple times over the centuries, one egg laying unhatched for centuries as her surface worshippers slowly died out, leaving behind only a temple to protect her.

In 1961, members of the Chen family who were 'second-generation' Monarch staff would learn about Mothra on Infant Island, where she was referred to as 'Mosura', or 'giver of life'. At some unknown point in their history, the Chen family developed a unique bond with Mothra that would be passed along to each generation born.

In 2009, Monarch finally found Mothra's egg, hidden away within the Temple of the Moth, in the Yunnan Rainforest. Outpost 61 was established within the temple itself to study Mothra and the remnants of her worshippers.

(Pictured above: A pacified larval Mothra regards Emma and Madison Russell, circa. 2019)

In 2019, Mothra was awakened from her slumber after Alan Jonah's organisation began their sabotage of Outpost 61. Peaceful for but a few moments, Mothra quickly became agitated and lashed out at Monarch guards surrounding her. Emma Russell attempted to use her ORCA sonar device to calm Mothra, initially only succeeding in further angering her, before finally managing to halt Mothra's rage. Mothra allowed Emma's daughter Madison to briefly touch her face before Jonah and his men stormed the outpost.

Escaping the temple, Mothra would make her way to a nearby waterfall and cocooned herself, preparing her metamorphosis into her imago form. After Monster Zero assumed command over the other Titans, Mothra emerged and made her way to Monarch's Castle Bravo base, using her bioluminescent "god rays" to show them a path toward Godzilla's temple, enabling them to revitalise Godzilla with a nuclear warhead.

Mothra would briefly travel back to China and lay a new egg, ensuring she would be able to reincarnate should she die, before flying to Boston to assist Godzilla in his battle with Monster Zero. She immobilized the three-headed dragon long enough for Godzilla to ram him through a building, before the fiery Rodan appeared and tackled Mothra to keep her occupied. Their battle left Mothra's wings burned, though she managed to take Rodan out of the fight by impaling him through the shoulder with her stinger.

(Pictured above: An injured Mothra crawling on top of a heavily wounded Godzilla, circa. 2019)

After Monster Zero carried Godzilla almost up to space and dropped him, Mothra crawled on top of Godzilla's body in an attempt to protect him. Using the last of her strength, Mothra charged toward Monster Zero, who shot at and ultimately killed Mothra with a powerful blast from his gravity beams. Mothra's ashes rained down onto Godzilla's body, infusing him with energy.

Her posthumous gift to Godzilla enabled him to enter a temporary superpowered state, where he burned everything around him and expelled nuclear energy through a series of pulses that completely disintegrated Monster Zero's body, and levelled Boston in a thermonuclear explosion.

Following her death and Godzilla's claim as king of the monsters, Monarch would discover Mothra's egg in China and relocate it to Tokyo, where it would be overseen by the current Chen sisters working under Monarch.

(Pictured above: Mothra, alongside Godzilla and Kong, circa. 2027)

In 2027, the Mothra guarding the Hollow Earth city of Malenka was awakened by Skull Island survivor Jia as part of an ancient Iwi prophecy. Mothra raced to the surface and used her god rays to quickly end a battle between Godzilla and Kong before the former could kill the latter. Her presence almost immediately pacified Godzilla, and the three Titans came to an unspoken agreement to work together.

Down in the Hollow Earth, Mothra provided assistance during the first part of Godzilla and Kong's battle with the Skar King and Shimo, using her webbing to hold back some of the Skar King's ape army. She would use her god rays again to give Shimo pause from firing her frost breath, allowing Godzilla to thaw himself out and continue his attack. Mothra did not join Godzilla and Kong on the surface for the final phase of their battle.

After the battle, Mothra used her webbing to repair the organic wall isolating Malenka from the rest of Hollow Earth, before flying away to resume her protection of Hollow Earth and the city.

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And that's all she wrote for Mothra! In the chaos and danger of the Titans and other superspecies, it brings some comfort to Monarch and the world that there are Titans like Mothra who seek actively to protect humanity. As we continue to uncover Mothra's secrets, let us all wish her well in her duties down in Hollow Earth.

Until next time,

Monarch: After Dark

#monarch #monarch after dark #monsterverse #monsterverse au #titans #mothra #mosura #titanus mosura #godzilla kotm #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla x kong #godzilla x kong the new empire #hollow earth #infant island #godzilla

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denaliwrites · 1 year ago

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Beating Like A Kick Drum

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

Catch & Release Prompt: "Heart"

Summary: Alec's on the hunt for a serial killer with a habit of carving the hearts out of young lovers. The problem is, the killer is on the hunt too.

Soundtrack: Heart Pound by Kadant

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Canon-Typical Heart Problems. Also some violence.

It wasn't like Alec to worry about you when he was on a case. It was impossible for you to fit every victim profile, after all. One or two? Sure, that was reasonable. All of them? Statistically inconceivable. For some reason, though, his latest case had him on edge, and every time he looked at you his eyes were so sad -- like he was preparing for the worst. Like he may never see you again.

"Just... be careful," he'd whispered into your ear one night as he'd held you close and made such tender love to you. "Promise me."

You hadn't had the heart to tell him he was killing the mood. But even still, the words "I promise" had managed to slip through your gasping breaths.

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

The memory haunts you as cool metal slides effortlessly between your ribs.

The pain of the physical wound -- sharp and searing -- doesn't compare to how your heart breaks at the erratic beat of realizations pounding in your skull.

You didn't tell Alec goodbye this morning.

He's going to find you cold and dead.

He forgot his dinner in the fridge and now he's going to forget to eat.

You're never going to see him again. You're never going to see his smile again or hear him laugh again or feel the way his fingers card through your hair again.

There's a pause in the assault. The blade is deeper in your chest, and maybe if you knew anatomy and didn't have a knife in your chest you'd be able to tell which pieces of you it was marring on its way through the cavity.

You don't need to know anatomy, though, to know when it pierces through your heart. It feels like the final nail in a coffin -- your coffin, to be exact.

Your hands are on your assailant's arms, nails bitten into the skin from when you'd used all your strength to push and pull and beat him off. Nothing had worked and now you have a knife in your heart. Your nails dig in again at the moment of impact, hard enough to draw blood and a hiss.

He tries to pull the blade out, and instinctively your left hand withdraws from his bloodied arm, wrapping around the handle as tightly as you can manage. He grunts as he yanks it back, but you hold on, keeping it firmly settled in your chest.

He's going to kill you. You're not an idiot, and you know it's only a matter of time. But you refuse to let it be easy, and you're not going down without doing everything in your power to survive.

The fight is leaving you quickly, though.

Your heart can't carry on much longer like this, even with the knife still in it. The adrenaline is seeping from your blood and shock is settling in.

And once it does, you'll die.

Realizing that, somehow, you have a death grip on the knife and he's not getting it back, your assailant pulls back. Probably to grab another one from your kitchen.

You're too faded to hear the front door slamming open or to see lights flooding the flat.

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

You startle awake.

The first thing you see is a tiled ceiling. Decidedly not your ceiling, you realize. Not Alec's, either. Do you know anyone with a tiled ceiling? Maybe the police station? But you're definitely in a bed, and why would the police station have a bed?

Turning your head is a feat fraught with pain and dizziness, but you somehow manage. To one side, a cluster of cabinets, a small loveseat, a TV mounted to the wall, and a window. To the other, some machines, a shut door to the left, and an open door to the right leading out into a hallway. It's when you see a nurse pass by that you realize hospitals have beds and tiled ceilings.

It's also then that you remember the events that probably led to you being in a hospital, though you're not sure how you're here and not dead. You must've been unconscious for that bit.

A few moments later the door to your side opens, and out steps Alec. He paces across the room, newspaper in his hands and his eyes scanning the page he's on. He reaches the loveseat and sits down, reads a bit more.

Finally, he glances up, and his eyes meet yours.

Wordlessly and without hesitation he surges forward. His hands cradle your face and pull you into a kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting.

"Darlin'," he whimpers into your lips, and your heart breaks all over again at the devastation and joy in his voice.

"Alec," you sigh quietly, pulling out of his grip just to nuzzle into his throat.

"You had me so worried," he says into your hair, and all you can do is weakly nod. "Everything was so touch an' go fer a bit." His hands come up to cradle you again, and you can feel in his touch that he's desperate to never let you go again.

"It's okay," you tell him, nuzzling closer. "I'll be okay."

"I know."

#alec hardy x reader #alec hardy x you #alec hardy fanfic #alec hardy #david tennant #broadchurch #broadchurch fanfic #everyone say “thank you raz” for the idea #catch and release prompt

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weirdkpopgirl · 1 year ago

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College Life | Dream Headcanon #11

Headcanon: College with the Dreamies

Genre: College AU

Warnings: mentions of stress -- but nothing serious

Word Count: 3296k

Author's Note: It's been forever since I made a headcanon. So thank you to the lovely anon who requested this scenario. At first, it was a little difficult for me to come up with ideas for all of the members. But I made it work! I love writing college aus, especially now that I'm in college. Hope you guys like it ^ ^

~ ~ ~

MARK

You met Mark in your first year of university at the campus library. He had originally come intending to study without the distraction of his boisterous friends. But then he came across you seated at a table, lowkey panicking over the notes filled with numbers in front of you. The idea of failing your statistics exam was becoming more real, and you were terrified.

At first, you turned down Mark’s offer to help, but he was persistent. He was a third-year student, so he had taken the class already. Since then, the two of you started regularly meeting up at the library so he could tutor you. The initial chemistry between you was evident from the start, so slowly things led to more than just a senior-junior relationship.

Even when your stats class wasn’t much of a problem anymore, study dates remained a frequent occurrence between the both of you. Over time, the location transitioned to his apartment, imbuing the time with a more personal touch. Whenever you came by, Mark always tried to create the perfect study environment for you.

What if she’s uncomfortable? He'd often find himself pondering. However, you were never one to complain much and you appreciated how considerate he was. Most of the time, the two of you immersed yourselves in your respective tasks. Yet every now and then, you’d cast a fleeting glance at him, your expression reflecting a hint of uncertainty.

“Mark, do you know how to solve this?” You’d ask with a touch of concern in your voice, as you worried about interrupting him.

But the smile that formed on his lips never failed to put you at ease. Mark would lean over your shoulder, his gaze landing on the problem you were facing. Typically he understood the concept right away and happily offered his assistance.

“So you add this to that, and that should give you the answer,” he’d explain, his pencil pointing to the relevant numbers you had jotted down. “You’ve got it.”

Your comprehension caused your jaw to slightly drop, and you nodded in understanding. “Oh, okay. Thanks!”

“No problem, babe,” he would murmur, sealing his assistance with a tender kiss brushed against your cheek before he resumed his own work.

Naturally, those subtle gestures effortlessly brought a blush to your cheeks and kindled a warmth deep within your heart. Since the very first encounter, Mark Lee had proven to be the most compassionate individual you had the privilege of knowing. Reflecting on it, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the day he had chosen to approach you in the library.

✎__________________________________________________________

RENJUN

You and Renjun shared your first semester of university in a general psychology class. Both of you had chosen it as an elective, in contrast to the majority of students in the class who were taking it as a major requirement. He left a significant impression on the very first day. Seated alone in the middle rows of the lecture hall, you were taken aback when a young man sporting a soft beige cardigan and faded jeans appeared before you.

“Hi, I'm Huang Renjun. Would it be alright if I sat here?” he asked, rather shyly. Responding with a similarly bashful smile, you gave him a light nod.

Frankly, Renjun's gaze had fixated on you the second he stepped into the lecture hall. There was an inexplicable quality about your presence that caught his eye. As the class commenced, it became evident that both of you shared a genuine enthusiasm for the subject matter. Perhaps it was your fascination with psychology that bonded the two of you.

Once the initial awkwardness faded, Renjun and you had numerous engaging conversations about the topics covered in class. At some point, the two of you exchanged numbers, leading to interactions that extended beyond the confines of Tuesdays and Thursdays.

It took a few months, but Renjun eventually gathered the courage to formally ask you out on a date (and of course, you said yes). Since then, your relationship gradually blossomed into something so lovely and pure.

Most of your time together was spent working on assignments from class. You were a little skeptical the first time Renjun proposed the idea of studying outdoors. However, you couldn’t really argue when he explained all the benefits of studying outside, such as it helping to enhance focus and reduce stress.

After the first few times, you started to enjoy the change in scenery. The two of you got a lot done during these outdoor study sessions. And when the two of you quizzed each other for upcoming tests, a correct answer would almost always be awarded with a swift kiss. Whenever the breeze picked up, Renjun was quick to drape his jacket around your shoulders without a second thought. Your well-being was always a priority of his, which you found to be such an endearing quality of his.

Somehow, Renjun managed to make studying both productive and romantic. Honestly, no matter how down you got, he made everything better. You could no longer imagine your life without him in it.

✎__________________________________________________________

JENO

Truthfully, your path might have never crossed with Jeno’s if not for Chenle. He was the one who somehow managed to get you to agree to go on a blind date with his close friend. Originally you weren’t that interested in dating, solely wanting to focus on academics. The idea of being a campus couple never quite appealed to you. But Chenle emphasized that he thought you two would get along well, and you should at least give it a chance.

And so, with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, you stepped into a café one Saturday afternoon. It didn't take you long to identify Jeno, the guy from the photo Chenle had shared beforehand. Upon noticing your entrance, Jeno promptly rose from his seat, his demeanor polite and welcoming.

The shy smile he adorned when greeting you with a bow was the first thing you noticed about him. He was dressed pretty nicely for a casual date, which left a lasting impression on you. You certainly didn’t expect him to be so good-looking either.

"You must be (Y/n), right? I'm Jeno."

“Nice to meet you, Jeno-ssi,” you responded with a gentle blush on your cheeks, returning his bow in kind. The interaction held a mixture of nerves and excitement, the beginning of something new and unexpectedly intriguing.

Given his introverted nature, Jeno wasn’t great at meeting new people. But he could tell you struggled with that too, so he tried to put more effort into getting to know you. While things were initially awkward, the two of you slowly warmed up to each other.

You liked how calm Jeno was, and he was the perfect example of a gentleman. While Jeno found your soft-spoken nature to be endearing, he noticed your genuine interest when he talked about his architecture major. His heart fluttered when you laughed at his jokes.

Chenle was pretty smug when the two of you officially started dating. But you and Jeno discovered immense solace in each other’s company. Your relationship was comforting because of its simplicity. Both of you were always prepared to lend a listening ear and offer unwavering support to each other at the end of a tiring day.

Neither of you was overly fond of going out, so most of your dates were spent studying in the confines of your dorms. Jeno wasn’t as studious as you were, so he tended to unintentionally distract you. On occasion, he’d lean across the table to delicately tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His simple gesture would cause you to get all flustered and disrupt your focus entirely.

“Jeno, seriously?”

He’d respond with a sheepish chuckle. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. Jeno's ability to consistently bring a smile to your face was undeniable. His presence not only brightened your days but also made you recognize that embarking on a college romance wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

✎__________________________________________________________

HAECHAN

You and Haechan had the classic "opposites attract" trope. You captured his attention from the very first day of university, and he has remained captivated ever since. Lee Donghyuck was as bright and outgoing as they get. Whereas you preferred to keep to yourself and tended to avoid crowds.

Naturally, Haechan dedicated his entire first semester of college to shamelessly pursuing you. You rejected him the first few times he asked you out, assuming he was just trying to play with your feelings. Back then, you couldn’t fathom why someone as sociable and well-liked as him would be interested in you, who existed as a stark contrast to those attributes.

But his persistence was unwavering, and Haechan slowly worked his way into your heart. As you allowed him to get closer, you saw this incredibly resilient person who was surprisingly mellow and tender, beneath his lively persona. Haechan was over the moon when you finally agreed to be his girlfriend.

Relationships were something new for you, but Haechan guided you patiently. He had a sweet side that only you got to see. Through simple things like encouraging you when you were nervous about an exam or listening to you talk about a class you really liked, Haechan showed you what being in love was like.

However, you could never get any work done with Haechan. He wasn’t as devoted to his studies as you were, leading him to approach the task with a more laid-back attitude. Although he put in a sincere effort to match your diligence whenever you were together, such instances were fleeting. Once Haechan believed he had devoted sufficient time to studying, he would invariably shift his focus to playful flirting, consistently diverting your attention from the task at hand.

“Come on, (Y/n),” he'd tease with a mischievous grin. “School is important, but so is spending time with your amazing boyfriend.”

Raising your gaze from your laptop, you cast him an unconvinced glance. “Hyuck, I really need to get this essay done,” you insisted with a slight sigh of exasperation.

Haechan pouted in response, “But you’ve been working on it for the past hour and a half. A little break can’t hurt you, babe.”

By suggesting a "break," he essentially implied that you should take a pause from your essay to give him some attention. Letting out another sigh, you acknowledged that attempting to resist his charms would likely be an exercise in futility. Moreover, your mind was on the brink of overload, grappling with the many sentences you had somehow typed into your document.

“Fine,” you conceded, shutting your laptop. “But I’m only giving you twenty minutes.”

Haechan sprang to his feet with a surge of enthusiasm at his success. “That works for me, Jagiya,” he chimed.

You gasped when Haechan scooped you up in his arms and swiftly brought you to snuggle on the couch. He had you cradled in his arms, your head nestled against his chest while his chin rested atop your head. It was a comfortable position to be in, you couldn’t really complain. A subtle smile graced your lips as you felt Haechan's gentle kiss on your forehead.

The depth of his affection for you was unmistakable, and your feelings for him were equally profound.

✎__________________________________________________________

JAEMIN

For Jaemin, it was love at first sight when he laid eyes on you. He enjoyed a considerable degree of popularity on campus, thanks to his charming personality and striking good looks. Amidst the numerous girls vying for his attention, there was only one who had truly captured his heart.

You were the reserved girl who worked at the coffee shop Jaemin frequented after his physiology class on Mondays and Wednesdays. He had glimpsed you on campus a few times too. While you didn't engage with many people, you did have a close-knit circle of friends with whom you felt at ease.

Of course, it didn't take long for you to develop feelings for Na Jaemin. Each time he placed his order for an iced americano with four additional shots of espresso, his polite and kind demeanor left a lasting impression. While his coffee choice was remarkable to you, the radiant smile he bestowed upon you as a sign of gratitude never failed to make your heart flutter. You found yourself frustrated with your emotions, fully aware that practically every other girl on campus harbored a crush on him.

However, your world took a remarkable turn when Jaemin unexpectedly waited outside your literature class, having learned your schedule from one of your friends. The two of you ended up taking a walk around the campus, and Jaemin couldn't help but sneak glances in your direction. Despite having spent the previous night meticulously planning what he wanted to say, nervousness still coursed through him.

“(Y/n), I know we don’t know each other well yet. But I’d really like to go out with you,” he began, with a gentle look in his eyes. “If you’d be willing to give me a chance, I promise to make you happy.”

His words were simple, but you could sense the sincerity behind them. That was precisely why you smiled at him and lightly nodded in grant to his request. From that point on, Jaemin and you took things slow. Getting to know each other through leisurely dates, engaging in late-night phone calls that stretched past one a.m., and eventually, sharing your first kiss beneath the moonlight. Na Jaemin was everything you imagined him to be and more.

Sometimes the two of you would be studying together in the library. But Jaemin found it hard to focus when you were right in front of him. Every now and then, you’d catch him staring, causing you to blush immensely.

“Jaemin, quit looking at me like that!” you stammered, your hands flying to cover your flushed face. “Don't you have homework to complete?”

Jaemin playfully pouted, feigning innocence. “How can you expect me to focus on homework when my adorable girlfriend is sitting right here?”

“You're impossible,” you shook your head in slight amusement.

He responded with a wink. “Only for you, princess.”

You couldn't help but smile, glancing back down at your notes. Jaemin was really something else. But you loved him, no matter how crazy he drove you.

✎__________________________________________________________

CHENLE

The first encounter you had with Chenle involved him apologizing profusely. Rushing to class, he inadvertently bumped into you in the hallway, causing his coffee to spill onto your shoes. He was pretty flustered because incidents like those didn’t happen to him very often.

“I'm really sorry, I should've been more careful,” he apologized, running a hand through his hair. “I can cover the cost of your shoes.”

An understanding smile crossed your expression as if the unsightly brown stain on your white sneakers was inconsequential. It made Chenle’s heart flutter instantly, although he didn’t let it show.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to do that.”

Chenle was about to object, but he glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. “Ugh, I really have to get to class. But I'll make it up to you, I promise!”

Before you could tell him it wasn't necessary, Chenle hurriedly dashed past you. You didn’t think much about the interaction for the rest of the day. Until a few days later when he caught you after one of your classes. He apologized again for your clumsy encounter the other day and asked if you were free that afternoon.

You tentatively said yes, and a few months down the line, you were dating. Your personalities were quite distinct, but you unexpectedly got along well and found yourselves gaining new perspectives from each other.

For study dates, Chenle often took you to the café near campus. Typically, you'd be the one diligently studying, while he would glance at his notes for about five minutes before deciding that was enough.

About half an hour into the study session, he would place a bubble milk tea before you. “Here, I got you the taro one because I remember you like it,” he'd say casually.

You looked up and smiled gratefully as your fingers curled around the cold beverage.

“Thanks, you really didn't have to,” you replied.

“No, my hard-working girlfriend deserves it,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Chenle consistently expressed his love for you through subtle gestures. He may not verbalize it frequently, but you cherished the way his caring nature shone through these small acts. His actions served as constant reminders that you held a special place in his heart. The day of the accidental coffee spill was undoubtedly one of the most memorable events in your life. From that point forward, your love deepened, rooted in those genuine and affectionate moments, and you yearned to continue experiencing them indefinitely.

✎_________________________________________________________

JISUNG

Being freshmen, Jisung had crossed paths with you in a few of his classes. Although he had only exchanged a few words with you on a handful of occasions. However, every interaction left a strong impression of your kindness towards people. Despite being nervous around people he wasn’t familiar with, Jisung found himself joining the photography club when he discovered you were in it.

Truth be told, your heart soared with joy when you spotted Jisung at the first club meeting. His presence opened up new opportunities for the two of you to talk. You thought his awkwardness was cute and relatable.

Both of you shared a natural shyness, and the mutual crush you had on each other had endured for quite some time. The tipping point that finally led to you becoming a couple was the gentle nudge from your friends, who insisted you confess your feelings to each other.

Navigating the realm of dating proved to be its own challenge. Those initial study dates you had were certainly something else. Once Jisung managed to get lost in the library and you had to search for him between the towering bookshelves. Another time he was so focused on studying that he forgot you guys were on a date. Yet as time passed and the both of you grew more accustomed to each other, things gradually began to smooth out.

During exam season, Jisung and you endured the grueling process together. Often, you both found yourselves as the last occupants in the library, tirelessly poring over pages of notes and textbooks.

With your heads resting wearily against the tables, you both would lament. “I hate finals,” you muttered.

Jisung let out a deep sigh and reached out to hold your hand. “Me too. But at least we’re in this together.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you conceded. “Having you by my side definitely makes it more bearable.”

A shared, tired but soft smile passed between the both of you. Jisung gently helped you sit up and suggested it might be wise to leave before the librarian forced you guys out. Even though the stress of finals still lingered in the back of your mind, the walk back to the dorms with Jisung and the sweet good-night kiss you exchanged somehow made it feel all okay.

✎__________________________________________________________

#nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream headcanons #7dream #kpop #czennie #nctzen #renjun #jeno #jaemin #haechan #mark #chenle #jisung #nct dream x reader #nct fic #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios

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