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writingunderneathawillow · 2 months ago

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blue valentine

- the four times bucky makes you cry + the one time you make him cry content warnings: heavy angst, bucky’s trauma, mental health plays a big part here, depression, ptsd, unwanted advances towards reader (not bucky), accidental violence against reader, crying, insecurities, hurt/comfort, very minor thunderbolts* spoilers word count: 3.3k a/n: inspired by nessa barrett’s song blue valentine, lyrics are in italics, this is unedited cause i’m lazy but i’ll try to get around to it tomorrow

you play it so damn cool, 'cause baby, you are Bucky was a quiet lover. He would send you flowers at the end of the week, little gifts on special occasions and he’d spend time with you, either tucked away in tranquil corners of restaurants or curled up together in dark corners and sequestered rooms of the tower. Most of the time however, you spent at your apartment. He had told you he was a private person when you met, and you had understood that. Sometimes you wanted to show him off just a little – introduce him to your parents and friends, kiss his cheek on his birthday – but you were patient and held out on such things. Instead, you relished in your shared secrecy. Keeping things just to yourself had its benefits as well. Most of the time.

But once you hit the six-months-mark in your relationship, things got a little rocky. Your friends were pushing to meet him, and you were eager to share your joy with them. Bucky protested the way only he could: With smooth words and even smoother kisses. “Doll, I just want us to stay us for a little longer. I like having you all to myself,” he explained, his voice dipped in soft honey. He pulled you in closer and kissed the corner of your mouth. His stubble tickled your skin and managed to produce a little giggle from your lips. “Well, baby, you still have all of me to yourself even if you meet some of my friends. They’re really curious about you and wanna know who I spend all of my time with,” you retorted and pushed him away just a little to look at him. Those ocean blue eyes, usually filled with so much warmth when he looked at you, clouded just a tiny bit when he noticed your reluctance to drop the topic.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, and you felt the need to shrink away under his piercing stare, but you didn’t give up. “They’d love you.” “Sweetheart,” he began, “I wanna meet them. That’s not it. I just- I think I’m not ready to go there yet.” Something in you cracked – just a little. It would be easy to smooth it over, to fill the fracture in your heart and piece it back together, if he just added a few more soothing words, so that you wouldn’t feel like an idiot for wanting your boyfriend to meet your loved ones. But his lips remained sealed and he simply ran a hand over your cheek. “Yeah?” He asked once he had noticed that you hadn’t answered.

No. Not yeah. The words almost spilled out, but you clamped your teeth shut against each other, biting away the tears which threatened to fall. “Okay, baby,” you said instead and nodded for good measure, ignoring the blistering pain, lit by insecurities, that burned its way through your mind. Bucky didn’t notice the way your waterline began to swim. He either genuinely thought that things were fine this way or he chose to ignore the way you mumbled a quick excuse to take a shower. Either option worsened the hurt you were already feeling.

In the bathroom you let the tears fall. You turned on the shower and stripped off your clothes as the salt streamed down your face. Your brain was working overtime as you wondered what was holding him back. Six months was already a long time to not have met your friends, but now, turning down your explicit request – it stung even more. Little by little, moments of the last half year came back to you, rushing onto you like a thunderstorm. His birthday when you had not been allowed to throw a party for him (“I’m fine celebrating just with my best girl”). Turned down dinner invitations with his friends (“You’ll meet them soon, doll, don’t worry, just not tonight”). A quick getaway from the bar he had taken you to once he had spotted Sam (“I’ll introduce you soon but not now, it’s not right”). The shower hid your sobs and blended right into your tears, so when you stepped out and rejoined Bucky in your bedroom, you made up some story about getting soap in your eyes to explain away the red rims. I burn red for you Just a few weeks later, he splintered your already cracked heart. A simple night out, just the two of you of course, had gone sideways. A guy in a bar, drunk out of his mind and an asshole in general just to top it off, had wandering hands. While Bucky sat at one of the tables, you had begged him to let you choose a drink for him and after successfully convincing him, you had made your way to the bartender. The drunk idiot next to you called out to you, shouting over the music to ask for, or much rather demand, your number. Despite ignoring him and then outright rejecting him, he didn’t get the hint and refused to give up. His hands were on your arm for less than five seconds before he was ripped away with the flash of vibranium arm and his head collided with a brick wall. Bucky’s chest heaved as he landed a few punches, two to the gut and multiple to the creep’s face, before all three of you were thrown out of the bar. For a second you didn’t recognise the man before you. Fire raged in his eyes as he wrapped his metal fist around your wrist and pulled you down the street – to what he presumed safety. “Baby,” you winced, trying to free your arm from his tight grip. “Baby, please let go.” But he didn’t hear you. His body shielded you from the outside world when he led you, practically teared you, into an alleyway. Pushed against the wall, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, he frantically checked you for injuries and stopped abruptly when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “Sweetheart?” He asked, neck craning to search for threats, “What? What is it?” You wiggled your fingers hopelessly and whispered: “You’re hurting me.” No other feeling will ever compare to the one that swallowed you whole once your words had processed in his mind. His entire face dropped, and he put about ten feet between the two of you. His gaze was glued to your arm where angry red marks, shaped and moulded to his fingerprints, sat accusatory. “Sweetheart, I’m- I’m so sorry,” he murmured and stepped forwards, but he stopped himself before closing any real distance. “I’m- I didn’t mean to- I just saw his hands on you and I- fuck, I’m so sorry.” You exhaled deeply, trying to collect yourself, and wiped away the streaks on your face. “It’s okay, Bucky,” you mumbled and walked towards him. He shook his head and took another step back only to collide with the wall. “No, it’s not okay. I- fuck- I hurt you.” Bucky’s voice trembled and his hands – both metal and flesh – closed into fists. “I’m so fucking sorry. I… I can’t explain it and there’s no excuse, but I- I saw how he touched you and it- I-,” he stumbled over his words, trying to make you understand, not seeing that you already did. “I saw red. Nothing else. The only thing on my mind was getting you outta there.”

“I get it,” you replied gently and pulled your sleeves down, a feeble attempt at hiding the remnants of his grip. You managed a smile and softened your voice. “It’s not your fault. But we’re safe. We’re okay. Alright?” Feels like nobody knows The L-word had been on the tip of your tongue for months now. Pretty much since you had started dating. Bucky was easy to fall for. It took a little more effort to stay there with his closed off demeanour and reluctance to fully enter your world – he still hadn’t offered to introduce you to his friends and turned down any instance where he could have met yours. But it was worth it to you. You were royally whipped for him. So, the word dangled between the two of you, unspoken but mutually felt – or so you hoped. It was another late night, cozied up together on your bed while a movie played in the background. Neither of you was paying much attention to the plot, instead the focus had drifted into a heated make-out session. His hands rested below your shirt, warmth seeping into your skin as he traced shapes onto your bare back. You pulled away for a few seconds to take him in. Lips kissed rosy and swollen, a faint trace of a cocky smile on his face. His hair was messy from how often you had run your hands through it and a love-drunk haze veiled his eyes.

It felt right to say it then. There was no doubt in you, no fears that you might be knocking on a closed door. You breathed in deeply and placed another sweet kiss on his cheek before you said it. “I love you.”

He froze. You felt every single one of his muscles come to a halt below you. The thighs that had supported your weight on his lap went taut with tension and his fingers stopped moving.

You had heard of fight or flight before, experienced it yourself a couple of times and had seen it in action on Bucky. But he had always chosen fight so far. A punch thrown, a blow landed, a bullet shot. But he had never frozen. He sat below you, eyes trained on a spot behind you, and you were wondering if you needed to call Sam. Or 911. He seemed almost catatonic, like a deer in headlights. You wished you were the deer and the headlights would come a little faster towards you.

“Bucky?” You asked quietly, slowly easing off of his lap and his head snapped to you so quickly that it made you jump. “What?” His voice was hoarse, and you prayed that the ground would open up to swallow you. “Did, uh, did you hear me?” You hated the way your voice shook, already feeling the prickling in your eyes.

He didn’t answer but he nodded slowly. You hadn’t confessed your love to that many people yet in your life, but this was certainly the worst way it had ever gone. “Uh, okay,” you whispered. There was a sharp crack on the last syllable of your words, and you instinctively covered your mouth with your hands. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to guilt-trip him into saying it back. You just wanted him to feel it, too. “Doll,” he began, an apologetic tone tinging his voice, but you interrupted him. “No, no, Bucky, I’m- I’m sorry, I, uh, you don’t need to say it back. It’s okay.”

It really, really wasn’t. Nine months, that’s how long you two were together now. Nine months of getting to know each other in and out, of spending days on end with each other and learning to love one another – at least that’s what you had thought. You scrambled up from the couch, clutching the hem of your shirt in an attempt to bring yourself back to earth and to hinder the tears from falling. Bucky stayed in his spot, his eyes helplessly tracking your movements as you increased the distance between the two of you – not enough to translate the emotional distance you felt right now.

“Sweetheart, it’s not- fuck, I mean, it’s not that I don’t… you know. But I… I can’t,” Bucky urged quietly. His words made little sense to your mind as it was consumed by grief. Grief for what should have been. “It’s fine,” you maintained and as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you to undermine your words, a single tear breached forward and slipped down your cheek. Do you really love me? Or just love to make me cry?

The following days were cruel. Both of you shut down completely. Conversations were rare and seeing each other even rarer. You walked through your own apartment like a ghost, staring at your phone like it might light up with an apology, or an explanation or anything. But no, radio silence. You heard from Bucky twice. The first time, he sent you a quick text to tell you that he was needed for a mission and would be back in a few days. Then, the second message came once he’d returned from the mission, asking you if he could come over. A ‘we need to talk’- text was rarely a good sign but you did. You needed to talk. It had been a sleepless night for you already, so you said yes, despite the fact that it was a little after 1 a.m. and anxiety rolled over you in waves at the thought of him ending everything you two had worked towards. The knock on your front door was accompanied by the loud boom of thunder. Rain hit the windows almost horizontally and wind rattled the glass. When you opened the door, you saw that Bucky had just barely escaped the worst of the storm. A few drops pearled down from his leather jacket onto your door mat and you – curse your stupid heart – immediately ushered him inside and went to get him a towel.

The silence stretched in between you. He dried off quickly but kept his shoes on. One foot out the door already. His boots squeaked as he walked towards you, and you saw it in his eyes. This would be your worst heartbreak to date. “Doll,” that wretched nickname, which usually gave you butterflies, now turned your stomach around, “I think… it’s… I-“

You listened to his stammers, his attempts at forming a sentence. Bucky usually seemed like the type of guy to have prepared a speech on the way here, but he was at a loss for words. He seemed like he was trying to spare you the heartache but there were no words invented for that. “Do you want to break up with me?” You asked bluntly. He looked at the floor, then at you and then back at the floor. Barely perceptible, he shook his head. “No.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “But we should.” For a second, you closed your eyes. Blood rushed through your ears, quieting everything around you, and for just a moment you could pretend that he wasn’t here. That he hadn’t just said that. “Why?” You deserved to know at least that. You didn’t want to be left with no explanation, only the what-ifs and if-onlys to keep you comfort. Another sigh, and you felt propelled to scream in his face. To yell at him, to slap him and to throw him out of your apartment. “I can’t do this- us,” he stammered. “Why, Bucky? Why?” You tried to swallow the tears, tried to suppress the voice crack but the air in your lungs didn’t suffice, not with the lump in your throat.

He couldn’t look at you, instead he faintly shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know. I just…,” he trailed off, gesturing loosely to you before dropping his arms to his sides. “Do you not love me? Did I do something?” “No, sweeth-, no, that’s not it.” “Then what?” “I want to want this but I…,” he shrugged helplessly and for a second you caught his eyes, filled with despair and vulnerability. “But you don’t,” you finished his sentence for him. He shook his head again and this time kept up the eye contact. “No, I just can’t.” More tears fell and you wiped at them furiously, rubbing the skin on your cheeks raw. When you looked at him again, the only thing you saw was self-hatred. And you couldn’t stand it. You turned around. You heard movements, and begged God, the universe, anyone that he’d walk to you. The door slammed. Lying next to you, ‘cause all you ever do is make me blue The continuous pitter patter of the rain lulled you to sleep in the early morning hours, the sky just shy of turning orange.

The tears had only found their end once you fell into a restless dream. Splatters of the fight, mixed with distorted visions of a future with Bucky that seemed out of reach forever broke forth from your subconscious and kept you from getting any rest. Half drifted off, you registered the sounds of your door opening but you were in too deep to fully distinguish between your dream and the real world. But the warmth was real. The dip of the mattress was real. The shaky hand, flesh not metal, that rested timidly on your arm, was real. You woke with a flinch, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to clear enough to see Bucky. Disoriented and questioning if you were maybe hallucinating, you sat up. But no, he truly was here. Your vocal cords didn’t cooperate as you tried to say his name “I’m sorry.” He looked at you, and what you would have thought were leftovers of the rain, turned out to be tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he repeated as you stayed quiet. “You’re back,” you finally managed to say, the disbelief in your words unmistakable. “Yeah,” he confirmed quietly, “I shouldn’t have left in the first place.” “Then why did you?” He stayed silent for a beat, then began talking. “I broke your heart. And I couldn’t keep looking at you while you were… looking at me like that.” You tried to intercept, but he raised his hand slowly, asking you to let him continue. “I should have stayed. Because I want to. I want to be in your life. I just don’t know if I can allow myself to do that.” You shifted in bed, straightening up a little. “I want you. I… I love you,” he whispered, “But I don’t get to have good things. Good people like you. They die or they leave. And I can’t let that happen to you. I need you to live forever.”

Theoretically, you would do anything for him. But that was a request you couldn’t fulfil. “Bucky,” you began, but he shook his head again. “No, I know. I know, okay? It’s unfair of me to say that. But it’s true. I won’t survive if you die, or if you leave. And that scares me. So, I pushed you away. And I’m sorry for that. But I just… I can’t put you through that. A life with me is not something you want.” “That’s not your choice,” you implored quietly. Now it was your turn to shush him when he tried to protest. “No, Bucky, really. It’s not your choice. It wasn’t even my choice. But I fell for you. I love you and if I could have chosen, I’d do it again.” “I can’t give you anything. Stability. Promises. A future.” “I don’t want anything. I just want you.” Your words came out a little louder, a little harsher. But something had to penetrate that thick wall in his head that he had spent way too long building. “I want you. Now. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. When you make me laugh and even when you make me cry.” You leaned forward and gently grabbed his chin, swiping at the tears that had made their descent into his beard. “Do you hear me?” “Yes, ma’am. I hear you. I just… I don’t know how to accept it.” “I’ll help you. I’ll make you accept it. Now, come lie down.” He shrugged of his jacket and took off his boots. Then, slowly he eased himself into bed next to you and after a moment of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry for making you cry,” he whispered against your hair. “It’s okay. You cried, too,” you replied quietly and pressed a kiss against his skin.

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work

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rottingpink · 5 months ago

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after hours | hwang jun-ho

cw: switch dynamics, fighting, choking, piv, fem! reader, guard! reader, (this is a bit non canon as junho already got his square mask before confronting you) creampies, unprotected sex, praise, choking, not beta'd

synopsis: junho disciplines guard! reader for her mistakes, but the reader is unwilling to comply.

masterlist

You screwed up today.

You'd worked here so long that every time you'd shot a player, or moved a body, or ordered a circle mask to clean up the area after a game, it felt unconscious, like a menial chore. Perhaps you'd gotten too careless and forgotten your place, because you'd frozen on the spot when a player, a woman, young and pleading and desperate, had crawled against your leg and pleaded with you to let her live after she'd cracked a side on her star Dalgona.

You froze.

A careless mistake. She'd taken your hesitation as an opportunity to grab your rifle and wrench it from your hands, trying to shoot you in the head and missing, before she managed to hit a soldier in the arm that'd been rushing over to pry the weapon from her hands. The entire playground was a mess now, with yells of terror and people cracking their Dalgona due to stress, all because of you.

Now you were following a very tall, quiet square guard to a private room, only meant for very important matters. no cameras are placed in here. He locks the door behind you and turned to face you. You hung your head, fighting the urge to wring your hands.

"Look at me."

You look up at the sound of a deep, distorted voice, placing your hands behind your back so you could hide the way they're shaking. He doesn't move, watching you through the thick black plastic of his mask, assessing you.

"Explain."

You inhale shakily, unable to hide your nervousness. You knew that you wouldn't have been brought here if you weren't about to receive a terrible punishment. There was no one watching, and the games were long over for the day. You pause for a moment, trying to find your voice, but he speaks again.

"Do you forget yourself, soldier? You answer promptly when asked to. The longer you try to wrack your brain to find a reason why you fucked up today, the less ill believe your stupid excuses."

You bristle at the condescending tone of his voice. You don't like being spoken to in such a way, even if its by a superior. Still, you can't come up with a good reason as to why you froze. Perhaps you'd seen a glimmer of yourself in the way the woman pleaded and searched for mercy.

You were weak and vulnerable once too. She'd cracked a part of the walls you'd built up around yourself to try and make killing players easier. "I'm just trying to collect myself, sir." You say, your tone a little too sharp for his liking.

"Collect yourself?" Jun-ho says in return. "I'm not playing games with you, soldier."

"And neither am I," You snap back, frustrated and scared enough to act with your emotions and not logically. You're not thinking about the repercussions of talking back to a superior. "I made one mistake in the five years I've been here, and you're just attacking m-"

"Take off your mask."

The order sent a chill down your spine. You weren't ever supposed to show your face around here, not even to your superiors. It usually meant you were about to take a bullet to the head.

You look around anxiously to try and spot any cameras, but most of them are turned off for this location since it is meant to be vacant right now. You step back and finally speak.

"S-sir, I can't. It's against policy."

"Don't give me any more bullshit. Take off your mask. that's an order." You grit your teeth but don't budge, refusing to go along with the inevitable that happens when you show your face. He growls and raises his hand, his pistol at your head in a second. "Now, triangle."

You let out a shaky exhale and reluctantly peel off your mask, letting it drop to the floor, along with the balaclava underneath.

There's a tense moment of silence as he looks you over, and he nearly groans in appreciation of how cute you are. Jun-ho expected an old hag with nothing to lose, not... you.

His eyes roam over the wide, sparkly eyes staring up at him and the soft frown on your face, as well as the way your lashes skim your cheekbones when you blink, your soft, pretty hair, your full lips...

You take his hesitation as an opportunity and knock the gun out of his hands, shoving him back and debating on running or staying to fight him.

He lunges to grab you, and you aim a kick to his chest to try and steer him off course again, but he grabs your ankle and kicks the back of your other leg to make you crumple. You curse, reeling back a bit as you stand straight again, punching his stomach to make him let go of you.

He grunts, but doesn't relent, so you aim a few more punches to his chest and stomach, but he grabs your arm and twists it, letting go of your leg and shoving you against the wall of the room, pressing your chest against the wall. You scowl, struggling fervently, but its hard to when he's a head taller and has the strength of a gorilla.

He pauses for a bit, smug at how easy it was to beat you when you had the advantage of disorienting him by making the first move.

"There, was that so hard? You're making me feel like a monster. Pretty girls like you deserve to be worshipped, not roughhoused like this." You growl at the implication, aching to demand what exactly he means, but you figured that if you play into the act a little bit, you might be able to get your advantage back.

You sniffle, making the slightly-exaggerated sounds of someone about to cry. "I-I know sir," You choke out, your voice breaking. "I... I d-didn't mean for it to come to this, I just... d-don't wanna b-be punished or killed for one mistake, I didn't mean to hesitate today, really. P-please don't kill me..." You make the soft sounds of crying, trying to imitate the feeling of desperation and hopelessness.

His heart aches uncomfortably, and he feels your little body shaking with tears. He feels bad now. He just meant to scare you a bit so he could get information about this place, but you attacked him, so he had to do this to you. But it feels wrong. He can imagine your sweet little face scrunched up and flushed with tears, and he sighs, turning you around slowly so he can help wipe your face and soothe you.

You don't wait a second, delighted that your plan worked to some degree, enough that he was willing to let go of you long enough for you to drive your knee straight into his crotch.

"Fuck!" he curses, doubling over. "Shit, you fucking maniac!" You get the rifle off your back that all triangles are equipped with, astounded that he didn't disarm you at the first opportunity, and you shove the barrel under his chin.

"On your knees, square." You sneer at him, and he grits his teeth, dropping down to his knees with his hands raised.

"You're fucking crazy." He says angrily, panting as he massages his aching privates, his gaze roaming over your pretty face, and he scoffs, in disbelief that he, a trained cop, ended up in this situation.

"Now you take off your mask too. So we're in this together." You say coldly, nudging the gun at his neck. He freezes for a bit. He didn't know what you'd do if you found out he was a stowaway posing as a guard, and so he hesitated, but with a gun to his face, what more could he do?

Slowly, he took off his mask, letting the black plastic clatter to the floor as he pushed thick black hair out of his eyes, eying you warily.

You too, as he did, paused for a minute at the sight of his face. You didn't expect your manager to be so handsome. His features were soft and handsome, like some pretty boy you'd see on TV, not at your feet with your rifle to his head.

"Who are-"

He took a dive for your legs, realizing he couldn't go through the process of revealing everything to you. Even showing you his face was going too far. You squealed, tumbling to the ground, and he stuck his hand under your head so you wouldn't crack it open under the concrete, and he quickly straddled you, putting one hand around your throat and moving the other to hold your hands together above your head.

"The hell's your problem, huh?" He sneered, holding you down without much struggle even as you thrashed under him. "You don't listen. If you just shut up and answered a few questions, you'd be out of here in no time."

You choke, panting a bit, and he squeezes your neck a little tighter, fascinated at the way your cheeks warm and your eyes darken. His cock twitches a bit in his pants, excited by the way you look so helpless. The way you're squirming under him and rubbing your body unintentionally against his dick isn't helping. It's already tender from you hitting it with your knee earlier, and his hypersensitivity is just riling him up more and more.

"Shit..." He murmurs, loosening his grip just enough for you to get a big gulp of air, before he puts the same pressure on your neck once more.

"I'm not afraid of you," you hissed, despite the nervous flutters in your stomach. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours.

"I don't care. You put yourself in this situation, and now look where you are." He mocks you, no longer caring about your feelings after your earlier deception. Your lips press together in a scowl.

You let out an infuriated growl, trying to shift your body up to attack him, maybe bite him, but he slams you back down with his grip around your neck. Your vision sparkles around the corners, and you pant, gasping weakly for air, and he lets go just before you pass out.

"Let... me go." You wheeze, inhaling unsteadily. He leans closer, about to say more, when you shove your lips against his. It's not a good tactic, and you hate doing it, but it's a last resort, and you needed to wind him so you could get your upper hand back.

To your disbelief, he moans, his grip on you loosening so he can lean down and kiss you deeply. He's pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

You're gorgeous, of course, and with the soft taste of strawberries that linger on your mouth, he's not complaining at all. He squeezes your face in his hands, rubbing his tongue over your lips to try and coax your mouth to open. You grit your teeth, annoyed by how enjoyable this is.

His lips are soft, and he's good at kissing. You enjoy the way he parts his lips and slots his mouth over yours to search for the best angle. However, you try to stay present enough to try and find the right moment to throw him off you. He, however, was lost. He's managed to get his tongue in your mouth, and he groans at your taste, one hand going to stroke your hair softly as he rolls his tongue over yours slowly and sloppily, almost savoring the feeling.

You grunt, squirming a bit as his long tongue pushes deeper in your mouth. He's getting way too excited for someone who was just trying to suffocate you, and you start to worry that you made a mistake by riling him up like this.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel something hard and thick poke your thighs, and he lets out a full-blown moan into your mouth, his hips beginning to rut against you. You've had enough. With as much effort you can muster, you bite his lip hard enough for it to be uncomfortable, and he lets out a yelp, smoothing his tongue over his now bleeding lip.

You desperately try to push him off you. His eyes are wide and shiny, like a puppy aching for a treat, and he pants a bit, before frowning. "I want more," He says gruffly, upset at your denial. He leans down, wanting to kiss you again, but you hook your legs around him and flip him over, using the element of surprise to your advantage.

He tries his best to try and buck you off, but once you get his hands pinned beside his head, he stops struggling, staring up at you with wide, glassy eyes, his breath coming out in tiny gasps.

"W-wha..." He starts weakly, but you tug his hair to shut him up. He doesn't oblige, moaning at the feeling and returning to humping you, his hips thrusting up against your ass as you straddle him.

"Stop it," You hiss angrily. "Acting like a fucking dog, have some shame."

He doesn't listen, his hands clenching into fists as he aches with the need to touch.

"F-fuck me..." he breathes out, and you try to put your hand over his mouth to shut him up, but you can still hear his loud groans as he ruts against you, dry humping you through his pants. "Fuck me, please." He insists. You squeeze his wrists with frustration, pissed off by his excessive neediness, but you start to lift his shirt, your hair tickling his cheek as you lean down. You pull it above his head, reveling in the sight of his soft, creamy white skin, and plush pink nipples.

He shivers as the cool air of the room hits his skin, and you slowly start to drag your fingers up his chest.

Unfortunately for you, that, paired with the constant feeling of his clothed cock rubbing against the juicy fat of your ass causes him to still, and he tears his hands out of your grip with little to no effort, places them on your butt, and rubs you fervently against his dick until his hips stutter, and he squeezes you tight.

"Oh G-god... mmh, fuck, fuck... fuck... 'm cumming, im cumming now..."

You can feel him throbbing against you as the sticky liquid of his cum stains his pants. You look down at him as he slumps down, keening loudly as he tries to catch his breath. his chest heaves hard.

You look down at him in shock, scowling down at him. "You dirty little..."

He doesn't let you finish your words, flipping you over.

Panting harshly, he looms over you, large hands roamed feverishly over your curves, grasping and squeezing at the fabric of your guard uniform as if trying to rip them away from your body. "Please, baby... I need... I need to feel you... all of you..." he babbles.

Jun-ho's breathing grows louder, more labored. "Please... let me... let me see you... touch you... taste you..." he begs.

Hie hips grind his clothed erection against your core, seeking some measure of relief from the throbbing ache that consumed him. "I'm so fucking... so fucking desperate for you..." he whines, his hands finally succeeding in baring your breasts.

"My god... look at you... so fucking perfect..." Jun-ho dipped his head, peppering your newly exposed skin with desperate, open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips. You moan, squirming under him at the unfamiliar yet desirable sensation. He's worshipping you, obsessing over your body

"Tell me... tell me you want it too..." he urges breathlessly between kisses, his hands roaming lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, your panties. "Tell me you need my cock...almost as much as I need to be inside your tight, wet little cunt..."

His desperation was palpable, his body trembles with the force of his desire as he awaited your response, praying you would give him the green light to plunge forward and claim you. He shoves his pants down, his slick cock, tender from his recent orgasm, hits his belly, and you try to sit up.

"Fuck, you bastard, get off," You try to protest, to hide how bad you want it despite the risk of you losing your job or being killed for doing something so reckless and idiotic. But your pussy can't hide how you crave to have his cock deep inside you.

His mouth waters at the intoxicating scent of your arousal, ripe and heady and consuming. He lavishes your breasts with desperate, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue swirling around one stiff peak, lapping and suckling greedily, before switching to its twin, determined to taste every inch of your succulent flesh. You cry out, keening dumbly. You hate how good it feels.

"Mmm... you taste... fuck, you taste incredible..." he praises between slurping kisses, sending vibrations tingling through your skin.

Below, Jun-ho's aching cock jerked and throbbed against your soaked pussy. Each twitch of his sensitive flesh against your core drew a guttural groan from the man's throat, and a soft whine from you, his hips rutting instinctively, chasing more of that exquisite friction.

"You're so pretty," he pants, the words tumbling out in a desperate, incoherent jumble.

He could feel the heat radiating off your cunt, could sense your body's readiness, yet still you held back, trying to retain some semblance of control.

He whimpered in frustration, his cock pulsing urgently against you as he gazes up at you with pleading, lust-glazed eyes. "Tell me... fuck, tell me you want it too..." he rasps, his voice breaking on the desperate words. "I can't... I can't hold back much longer..."

For a moment, you remain silent, your expression an unreadable mask. But then, with a sharp inhale and a barely audible hiss of air through gritted teeth, you finally mumble the word he craved to hear. "Yes, I... I want it..."

Relief crashes through him like a tidal wave, and he releases a shuddering sigh, his body relaxing slightly as the tension drains from his muscles.

He positions the dripping, weeping tip of his cock at the entrance to your pussy and begins to press forward, his hips inching closer, the sensitive head of his cock parting your slick, swollen folds, eliciting a shaky gasp from you as your hands fly to his broad shoulders.

"Ohhh... fuck..." He groans, his voice a low, drawn-out rumble as he felt the exquisite, silken walls of your pussy clenching around the invading head of his dick.

His hands clench on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Sweat beads on his brow as he focused all his concentration, every ounce of his willpower, on the slow, tortuous process of sinking into you.

Inch by excruciating inch, he pushes into you, feeling your slick, plush walls flutter and clench around his sensitive cock, as if trying to draw him deeper.

"Goddamn... " Jun-ho groans, his breath coming in harsh, tortured pants as he finally bottoms out, his pelvis flush against yours, causing his heavy, full balls to nestle perfectly into the curve of your ass.

It took every shred of his control not to cum then and there, to spill his seed deep inside you. "Atta girl... squeeze me just like that..." He murmurs lowly, beginning to withdraw, feeling your walls drag against him, before plunging back in, starting a deep, deliberate rhythm.

Unwillingly, your composure starts to waver, your cool demeanor cracking. Soft, breathy moans leave your lips insistently, making his cock twitch inside you. "Y-you sound so pretty, you know that?" He chokes out through moans, thrusting steadily into you. "So good... S-so good for me, baby. I got you."

He talks you through it, feeling you flutter and clench around his sensitive flesh, as if trying to draw him even deeper. "Shit... fuck... so fucking tight..." he grunts, his hips pumping in a slow, deep rhythm that has your body jerking and bouncing beneath him.

You could feel your mind starting to go fuzzy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind as the pleasure mounted. "T-too deep, so deep..." you say, your words slurring together as you struggle to form coherent sentences.

Your fingers scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin as you clung to him, anchoring yourself against him. Jun-ho could feel your body starting to tremble, could sense the desperation building in your touch and your breathy little cries. They spur him on, urging him to thrust harder and deeper.

"That's it... fuck... take it... take my cock... take every fucking inch..." he growls, his voice a low, feral rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His mind could barely process the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock, watching the way he'd stretch you out with every thrust.

The obscene sound of your arousal filled his ears, each deep, powerful thrust eliciting a lewd plap, plap, plap as your dripping walls struggle to accommodate his girth. "Fuck, listen to her... listen to your greedy little pussy sucking me in. She doesn't want me to go anywhere, does she? Wants my cum to fill her right up." he bends down, panting hotly against your neck, his lips and teeth and tongue working over your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks and kisses.

He could feel you trembling, could sense you trying to hide your face in the crook of your shoulder, no doubt an instinctive move to hide how good you feel, but he would not allow it. He hooks his hand under your chin, tilting your face back towards him, forcing you to meet hungry gaze. "Don't you hide from me now," he cooed, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to see your cute little face."

You whimper, a deep blush covering your cheeks. "I'm not... I'm not cute..." you protest weakly, even as your hips begin to move up to meet his, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You're not?" he asks, punctuating his words with a sharp, deep thrust that had you seeing stars. "But look at you... taking my cock like you were made for it... like your perfect little pussy was molded just for me..." His hand slid down, fingers splaying possessively over your lower belly, feeling it clench and quiver as he filled you so completely. "That's right, baby... this is your pussy's purpose... to milk my cock dry."

He could feel you starting to tense, your thighs beginning to quake around his pistoning hips, your belly fluttering beneath his splayed fingers. Your breathy moans and whimpers rose in pitch and volume, blending with Jun-ho's guttural groans and ragged pants to create a symphony of carnal bliss that echoed off the walls.

"Fuck, yes... that's it, baby... Come with me." the man urged breathlessly as he drank in the exquisite sight of you lost in ecstasy. "I want to feel this greedy little cunt squeeze the cum out of my cock. You miss a drop, and we do it all over again, you hear me?" He delivers a sharp snap of his hips, a brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt in you, kissing your womb so sweetly.

You size up suddenly, letting out a cry as your pussy clenched down hard, rhythmically, milking his throbbing cock for all it was worth as you rode out the crest of your climax.

The man threw back his head with a groan, a feral sound, as he felt your velvety walls spasming around him, sucking him deeper, urging him to fill you with his cum. He slams into you one last time before his own release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed, erupting as he pumped you full of his hot, thick seed, painting your insides white.

You collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and heaving chests, the aftershocks of their shared climax leaving you both breathless. You could only cling to him as he leaned down and pressed a gentle little kiss to your temple.

"Don't try and beat me up ever again."

"Fuck you."

"Just did, baby."

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b0nten · 2 years ago

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HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

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honey-flustered · 8 months ago

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Kinktober Day 18: Aphrodisiac + Oral Fixation + Body Hair

Eddie Brock | Venom x Ex!Younger!F!Reader

Summary: Venom uses honey from your purse to whip up some tea for you and Eddie while helping you study. Little did he know, that honey has some…interesting side effects.

Warnings: dub con elements, exes to friends to lovers, accidental aphrodisiac, sub!eddie x horny!reader, consumption, teratophillia, not lore accurate, oral fixation (licking, biting), some scratching, oral through underwear, premature ejaculation, body hair kink, some hair pulling, threeway kiss, venom and reader are in cahoots, french kissing, some dry humping, age gap +18 reader, bimbo!reader, basically whole lot of tongue action

To this day, 7 months later, Venom still curses Eddie for letting you go. Blah, blah…she’s young and going to university…blah blah…new experiences. If long distance is really that hard, why is it that it only took Eddie 3 hours to drive to your dorm? If he was committed to your throupling, he’d make the commute everyday to see you.

But Ole Venom supposes he shouldn’t be too hard on Eddie. After all, he’s attentive enough to Venom where he notices his changes in mood. Especially when Venom’s in one of those depressive states where he desperately misses you; with the occasional breaking of items to cope with his pained feelings. Whenever he’d get this way, Eddie would take a trip up to you and you’d be the three musketeers.

This weekend being a three-day weekend excited Venom for things he had in store. He’s determined to win you back even in spite of what Eddie says because sometimes he just needs a push in the right direction.

Venom likes to think he’s become that of an expert at romance, having read enough gossip magazines and advice columns to say as such. He knows the love languages and he’ll be sure to use his tongue precisely for speaking them to you.

Yeah, he knows Eddie’s been suspicious of his saint behavior since their arrival—the rules were clear not to make any plans of winning you back—but Venom’s entitled to a little bit of rule-breaking. He hovers around, content as he watches Eddie and you laughing during your study session. If he sets the mood just right, things would get more intimate.

He then recalls a fact he’d gotten from an issue of Chic Heat Magazine that explains how tea can make people more susceptible to suggestion because it calms you. If you’re relaxed enough, you might take them back.

So he excuses himself to the kitchen, preparing some rose tea for you all to enjoy. You’d just run out of honey but you had some packets he’d noticed in your bag earlier, hopefully you don’t mind.

Once he returns to the circle, you beam at his gesture. “V…you are such a cutie. Thank you so much.”

“I wouldn’t say that too soon,” Eddie says in a tone that is both jest and serious. “We’ll check the state of the kitchen in a minute.”

You shrug. “No worse than the state I left it in.”

“You’ve gotta be more responsible, babygirl.” He frustratedly sighs.

“I’m studying. That’s pretty big for me,” You defend. “Usually I’d just flirt with the T.A. for the test answers or cram the day of. But I’ve been trying because you said I could do it.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Really proud of you, buddy.” He says, patting your knee and earning a smile from you.

Then, you’re taking a sip of your tea wanting to give Venom the praise he deserves. Your eyes brighten soon as the first sip stains your tongue and goes down your throat . “This is really good, V. Seriously. I couldn’t have done this better myself. What’d you put in it?”

“Honey…” He begins.

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I ran out—”

“…the ones in your purse.” He finishes.

Your eyes nearly leave your skull. “H-how many?”

“5,” He answers proudly. “Wanted to make it extra special for you.”

“Oh, it’s extra special alright.” You say with a nervous laugh.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks in concern.

“Mhm,” You hum between a strained toothless smile. “L-let’s go back to studying, yeah?”

“What’s in those things?” Eddie questions, his investigative nature getting the better of him.

“Nothing to be concerned about…” Your words escape you when you see that Venom has already retrieved the emptied packet for Eddie to review.

“Sweet Honey Rush? You said you wouldn’t intern with these guys,” Eddie says. “Didn’t you read my story on them secretly being behind these campaigns for increasing the national birth rate. I sent you a link on Facebook. We’re like breeding stock to them.”

“No person younger than 35 uses facebook anymore, Eddie,” You argue. “And besides they were offering some really good benefits if I interned with them.”

“Like getting free honey packets?”

“They aren’t for me…they’re for me to give out to some college students. It’s the new craze. Everyone’s talking about. There’s even a challenge of it on TikTok. You wanna see?” You’re about to pull out your phone but he stops you.

“Don’t you see that they’re purposely targeting the younger population?” Eddie scoffs.

“No, I think I gave one to my pervy old maintenance man,” You justify but Eddie shakes his head in disbelief at you. “Oh come on. It’s not like they’re as good as you think them to be. Venom said he’s added five and you don’t see me on all fours with my tongue out, do you?”

“I guess you’re right.” He says.

“Good. Now pretty please read me the next chapter.”

He smiles. “Of course.”

Venom is stumped. This is not at all going the way he’d planned. Instead of relaxing, it’s only made things more tense between the two of you. He was going to need to intervene internally.

“It’s taking effect.” Venom says from within.

“How are you so sure?” Eddie answers back into the mindscape.

“Come on, Eddie, I know it’s been months. But tell me you haven’t forgotten the way she looks when she really, really wants you,” Venom purrs. “Look at those eyes glossing over, darkening when she rakes them over you. She’s biting her lip—ha! She isn’t paying attention to your words.”

“You’re wrong. It’s nothing like that.” Eddie says trying to maintain focus by reading to you.

“I’ve been inside her once,” Venom continues. “I can sense the changes in her body even long after we’ve separated.”

“She’s just fine.” Eddie says in clear denial.

“Then ask her if she heard what you just said. Better yet ask her anything, she’ll probably say ‘yes’ to it all if it meant having our cock inside her.” Venom chuckles wickedly.

He’s reluctant, not wanting to embarrass you, but Eddie tests Venom’s theory anyway in hopes to quell his curiosity. Why on Earth would you want them back when you had so many different options at college? The sooner Eddie could disprove his claims, the sooner they can put aside that hopeful part of them that thinks the relationship could work.

“Hey, um, by any chance do you wanna share a jar of olives together?” He asks.

“Yes.” You sigh dreamily.

He perplexedly blinks at your reply to his absurd question. You hated olives.

“Babygirl, are you paying attention?” He asks.

“Mhm.” You nod still looking at him as if he hung up the stars. And now that Venom pointed it out, Eddie, too, could see your telltale sign in just the way you clenched your thighs together alone.

“Oh, really,” He asks, cupping a hand under your chin; his fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “What did I just read to you?”

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

“We’re studying American History, angel.” He smirks.

“Sorry, daddy,” You say, taking them completely off guard. Eddie hates how he instantly hardens at thought as if he’d taken the aphrodisiac, too. “Can I make it up to you? Taste you.”

“Yes!” Venom says.

“No,” Eddie protests. “You’re not in the right state of mind, missy. You’re going to bed, if you decide to take care of yourself on your own that’s your choice. In the morning if you still feel like you want to, then we can—”

“It’s only an aphrodisiac, dude. Not a drug. I’m not out of my mind for wanting you inside me. Both of you.”

“We’re in!” Venom says ready to reach out for you but Eddie smacks his dark tendril from your reach.

“No, we’re—” Eddie’s cut off by your lips on his. Somehow, Venom was able to sneak his mischievous tentacles around and bring your heads together.

You immediately get to work french kissing him passionately and tugging the hair on the back of his neck. His beard burns your face from the rough friction of the make-out session but it doesn’t deter you from being more forceful.

Venom’s tongue joins into the entanglement flicking and gliding between you and Eddie’s tongues, gathering a mixture of your salivas.

When Eddie breaks the kiss, you’re at his thick neck licking and biting away while Venom’s eager tongue, slithered and constricted around your body like vines.

“Stop. You don’t…” Eddie’s interrupted by yet another one of your lingering wanton kisses, finishing his sentence once you break apart. “…want this.”

“I’ve never stopped wanting you,” You suck on the space connect jaw and his neck before dragging your teeth along the vein. “Please fuck me.”

Eddie’s still too afraid to answer, cradling the back of your head while your lips and tongue continue their assault on his body.

“Fuck, babygirl,” He groans, missing this feeling of you devouring him as if he were a buffet. You and Venom were always big tongue enthusiasts wanting to put your mouths around anything that attracted you including Eddie.

His eyes flutter shut and you crawl into his lap, grinding your hips down while you tasted what you could. You pay special attention to his plump lips, licking and biting them.

“Can I go further?” You ask him.

“You heard Venom—”

“What do you want?”

“I want you.”

At his admission you moan, not being able to take it anymore. You and Venom work in sync. He begins to remove Eddie’s clothes while each sink that’s exposed you go over it with your tongue.

Eddie’s really hairy so occasionally your tongue would run over a patch of hair and you’d give it special attention.

“Fuck, I think I might actually cum from this alone,” He laughs bashfully, surprising himself. “I’m so sensitive for some reason.”

You dip your tongue into his belly-button, swirling it around before your tongue finally trails down to his throbbing bulge. It jumps in his khaki shorts the moment you place your tongue’s pressure directly on it. He shudders, his fingers through your hair.

The feverish heat of the effects take over you just as you pass the first barrier, bringing his pants down around his ankles. Venom lifts you by the waist for a moment, adding a pillow underneath for your knees. You run your fingers along the underside of his tentacles—where it’s most sensitive for him—as a thank you.

You’re not gentle at all once you spot the wet spot on Eddie’s underwear. He’d cum already and had been too ashamed to speak up. He could already see you making an old man joke about him needing the honey packet more than you but instead you went for his soul.

Immediately, you clamp your mouth around the clothed tip to suck at the sticky essence. It’s so sensitive he could cry, it’s as if the aphrodisiac is giving him a contact high.

He tries to pull your hungry mouth from him but is thwarted when Venom wraps a snaky limb around his wrists, pinning him down.

“Oh god, fuck. Baby…please.” Eddie whimpers.

You drag your nails along his little belly, gripping and pulling the tiny hairs of his happy trail while you sucked him off. Another one of Venom’s tendrils finds their way between your legs, teasing your little nub. You let out a shuddery gasp, your warm breath skirting over his now exposed veiny length.

You trace your tongue on the lightning-patterned cock, tasting the addictive earthiness of him. You’re gushing wet and ready to take their cock and Venom could very well slip a wriggling tendril inside of you this instant…

…but he’d rather Eddie get first dibs.

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mqdilen · 25 days ago

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⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: you play dumb so dazai explains things to you while you get turned on by it (hot mansplaining, basically)

pairing.: dazai osamu x gn!reader

cw.: !nsfw!, no established relationship, oral sex (dazai ⇢ receiving), vulgar language

genre.: one-shot, no second part

word count.: 1.7k (approximate reading time: six minutes)

note.: AGHHH happy birthday to my sweet angel. (i love dazai more than i love myself) it’s been so long since i’ve posted something, but please, bear with me. i’ve been very busy lately! this one is pretty tame ngl and it is slightly different to my usual writing style, but i just wanted to write something lighthearted, since this stuff comes easier. also, to the anon that requested a yosano fanfic where she’s obsessed with reader’s breast, i haven’t forgotten about you, i promise. (i’m actually so hyped to write this, i just need a good opening.) following updates on my profile!

☪︎

ah, yes, the armed detective agency.

a place full of peculiar minds and dangerous talents, wrapped in coats of good intentions. no one who knows this organization would dare say that it is incompetent or that its detectives are stupid. eccentric, though? oh, definitely.

yet their most innocent member wouldn’t be considered unintelligent either. each and every one of them, including you, has something that characterizes them: a keen intuition like no other, to a greater or lesser extent.

naturally, among your coworkers, there are people whose minds surpass average intelligence, and osamu dazai is one of them. even though it is sometimes hard for you to associate mental agility with dazai—due to his constant childish behavior and his obsession with hiding his true personality under a mask of laziness—you can’t deny that he is terrifyingly smart.

and he is smooth at switching his attitude in just a second, too—going from whining to becoming the strategist able to anticipate the resolution of a series of catastrophic events and how to avoid them. it is intoxicating to see when his smile drops to reveal the seriousness and sharpness he pretends not to possess.

at the same time... well, you also can’t deny that you have a bit of a weakness for men who can blow your mind with nothing but their brain. and dazai, with that quiet, terrifying brilliance of his, has made you think about kneeling between his legs while he maps out some impossibly complex plan more times than you’d like to admit.

still, if there is anything hotter than listening to him explain something, it is listening to him explain it to you. the way his voice lowers just a little, how he leans casually against the nearest surface as he patiently walks you through the answer… it always makes you sigh.

it amuses dazai, really. how someone like you, so sharp, so self-sufficient, still gravitates toward him. he’d caught it early on. the way your breathing changes when he stands too close. the look of adoration in your eyes when he does something you deem clever. the way your pupils dilate when his voice drops to explain something. he sees it all. he always does.

he just pretends not to.

but today? today, he feels indulgent. so when you ask him to explain something fairly simple while everyone else is out for lunch, he doesn’t object.

“here,” he says, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan your cheek, his palm braced on the desk beside you. he immediately notices how you squeeze your thighs together.

“you need to write that the hostage-taker panicked after his ability triggered unintentionally, and that he didn’t understand the full extent of its effect…”

it wasn’t hard for dazai to realise what you were doing, feigning ignorance on a task you have done thousands of times before. a small smile momentarily crosses his lips, thinking of all the times you looked for an excuse to ask him things.

once again, no one is a fool in the armed detective agency, and you are no exception to the rule—usually being a quick thinker. but you don’t even bother to hide the fact that the report is about a case you resolved two days ago. flawlessly, in fact. it is almost as if you want him to notice. or perhaps... you really aren’t all that smart after all.

your head tilts ever so slightly, as if absorbing the information. but your mind is somewhere else. you glance up at him in confusion, your body tense like it is anticipating something.

dazai smirks quietly to himself. you aren’t fooling anyone. not him, least of all. he has seen this game before, and you are playing it beautifully.

playing dumb? just for the excuse to hear his voice this close?

tsk. naughty.

he lets the silence stretch, watching you chew the inside of your cheek and furrow your brows unconvincingly. then, slowly, dazai shifts. his fingers brush your chin, angling your face toward him with surprising tenderness.

“my, my,” he murmurs, his voice low, silken. “you’re not usually this clumsy. and this isn’t your first report, is it?”

you blink up at him, wide-eyed, guilty in the way only someone caught red-handed can be.

he chuckles softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “so… you’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

his tone drops an octave—no longer teasing, not quite threatening, but laced with something else. lust, perhaps?

and just like that, your body betrays you before you even have the chance to stop it. another subtle squeeze of your thighs. a shift in your posture. your composure fractures, and dazai, ever the observer, drinks it all in like fine wine.

before you can respond, he has you standing, pressed up against the edge of your desk with such fluid grace you barely register how you got there. he presses his body against yours, the bulge in his pants noticeable. perhaps he, too, has a weakness for clueless and clumsy pretty little things like you.

“who would’ve thought?” he muses, lips ghosting over your cheek. “our always so independent, so composed newest addition… pretending to be helpless just for a sliver of attention.”

dazai reaches past you, lifting the half-finished report between two fingers. his eyes skim the page like it is some kind of performance. he already knows what it says. he probably knew it before you even typed it out.

“you wanna play dumb, huh?” he says, finally looking at you. his gaze is sharp, piercing. like he can read every secret you try to hide. “then i’ll gladly treat you like you’re dumb.”

“kneel.”

it isn’t an order shouted out loud. it is spoken low, languid, with the cool authority of someone who already knows they’ll be obeyed. he doesn’t force you. he doesn’t need to. it is all there in his voice, in his posture, in the very way he smiles down at you like a man who’s just checkmated someone three moves ago.

“let’s see if that mouth of yours is good for something other than pretending.”

your heart is beating faster in response to his words, and if it weren’t for dazai standing so close—close enough for you to feel him, smell him—you could swear this would be another one of your dreams. but it’s not. so you waste no time lowering yourself to your knees in front of him.

he watches you carefully, breath catching as your fingers work at the buckle of his belt. at least you know how to open this damn thing. otherwise, he might have started doubting if you really are pretending.

his cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. the tip is flushed, and he’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum. you drag your lips over the length of him, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss to the vein running underneath before wrapping your mouth around the tip.

dazai bites down on his bottom lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and bury himself deep in your throat. instead, he swallows the groan that’s about to escape his lips, reaching out to thread his fingers through your hair slowly, almost gently.

“what a pretty sight you are…” he breathes out, voice wavering ever so slightly. “need an explanation for that too? or should i show you instead?” his grip tightens just a bit as he guides your head forward, working his cock deeper past your lips.

your throat tightens around him, and you let out a sound that’s something between a choked moan and a whine. somehow, the way he speaks to you—gentle, but with that quiet condescension—makes you grow so much more desperate. your fingers dig into the bandages around his hips as you take him fully into your mouth, your lips flush to his pelvis.

he lets out something soft and shaky himself, head falling forward as he watches your throat struggle to adjust to him. his grip loosens, and he strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him. your lashes flutter as you meet his gaze, eyes wide and glassy with tears that roll steadily over your cheeks.

beautiful, he thinks hazily. but even dazai knows this is dangerous ground. if anyone were to see or hear you, you’d never hear the end of it.

he jerks forward suddenly, hips pushing in deeper. he hears you gag around him, more tears spilling as you let out a choked sob. his hand drops, and he caresses your cheek in apology, clumsily wiping away some of your tears.

the sight of you on your knees for him—tear-streaked, lips swollen and wet, jaw aching as you take him down your throat—is almost enough to send him spiraling over the edge. almost. eventually, you begin to move, each time taking him deeper. the wet sounds echo off the walls, making the moment feel that much more intense.

dazai is hardly able to muffle the moan that slips past his lips as the tight knot in his abdomen snaps. black dots blur his vision, and his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he takes a light step back. it’s almost too much for him. his whole body tenses as he cums down your throat, watching intently as you struggle to swallow everything.

it takes a minute for dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. by the time he does, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. his hazy gaze focuses on your face once more. your lips are wet and swollen, and your eyes are still glassy. he wipes away the remaining tears before leaning in close again.

“turns out you’re not as dumb as i thought,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “maybe i should explain things to you more often, hm?”

a faint smirk curls his mouth as he steps back, gaze sweeping over you like he’s still memorizing the moment. and right on cue, kunikida walks back into the office, punctual to the second as usual.

it shouldn’t surprise you. of course dazai kept track of the time. of course he knew. but somehow, that only makes it hotter.

it’s only when you’re fully upright that you realize just how wet you are and how worked up he’s left you.

how cruel of him, really… for not indulging your needs in return, even though you did such an amazing job.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

#dazai osamu #dazai #dazai x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs #gender neutral reader #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #‪‪pages i’ve kissed softly.#kissed in ruin

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justauthoring · 1 year ago

Text

jerk [2].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: the LARGELY requested part two! honestly, i'd be willing to write more parts if people wanted :) this part ended up being more about the girls and y/ns friendship but i couldn't help myself - if you guys want some fluff with bakugou for future parts, just let me know!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one. part three.

“You’re hiding something from us.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then another and when finally, you realize you should say something, you blink, sputtering out a barely believable; “no i’m not.”

Mina and Jirou glance at each other, then behind them at the rest of the girls, and you feel a layer of sweat build up when you realize all of your female classmates are here, surrounding you, demanding an answer. And you’ve never really been all that good at lying before, it’s how Bakugou was able to figure out the whole “i’m your soulmate thing” rather quickly and it had only taken him as long as it had because, well, it was Bakugou.

So, to put it bluntly, you’re screwed.

“Come on, Y/N,” Mina laughs, “that wasn’t even remotely believable.”

You know it’s written across your face, your eyes wide and your lips parted and you’re sure you look like quite the picture in that moment surrounded by every single female student in your class, a group of girls you considered your friends but were feeling considerably more like your interrogators in that moment.

But you have to at least try.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you repeat, this time taking special care to make sure your voice is even and somewhat believable. “I’m just… tired. It’s been throwing my balance off. Sorry guys.”

You really are because you have been weird recently and you were hiding things (even if you were desperate for them not to know that) so the sincerity was there and it seems to be enough because they all glance at each other, frowning, and you can literally see the determination fade as Momo speaks up first.

“You have been leaving to train a lot,” she agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired. But you should still try to get some rest, don’t push yourself so hard.”

You let out a breath of relief, trying not to let it show as some of the girls shuffle back to walk away, until—

“Wait, that reminds me!”

It’s Jirou who calls it out and you feel yourself freeze.

“She hasn’t been training!”

Eyes widening, you turn to look at Jirou. She’s grinning your way, her figure pointed in your direction, clearly pleased she’d caught you in your lie.

“Jirou,” Uraraka calls out, confused. “What are you–”

“Two nights ago when she left to go training, I followed her, thinking we could train together… she wasn’t there.”

They gasp. Literally gasp.

“Now that you mention it,” Froppy nods, finger held to her chin in thought. “I haven’t actually seen her in the gym very often… nor does she look particularly like a person who’s just trained when she comes back.”

Their eyes fall on you and you take a step back.

“Y/N—”

And then you just run.

“I can’t believe she just ran!”

“I know!”

“Guys, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Who?”

Mina’s lips are left parted at the sound of Kirishima’s voice, all the girls turning to face him in the living room where he’s sat with the rest of the class.

“Y/N,” Mina explains with a huff, falling into the couch dramatically. “She’s been ditching us constantly and always leaving right after we return from class with some excuse. When we tried to ask her about it today, she lied and then when we caught on to her lie, she ran! Literally just bolting down the hallway before we could even blink.”

Kirishima frowns, glancing over to Denki on his left.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Deku calls out from across the room, head tilted in curiosity. “Especially to lie to you guys.”

“I know!” Mina calls out, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Like I said,” Uraraka speaks up, trying to remain calm. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe something’s wrong…”

“You think she could be in danger?” Shoto asks, quirking a brow.

Uraraka shrugs; “I don’t know… I hope not.”

Everyone falls silent, worried expressions plastered on their faces.

“Wait, Kirishima… bro.” Denki calls, reaching to shake Kirishima aggressively, to which the red-haired boy swats his hands away, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Hasn’t Bakubro been disappearing a lot too?”

All the girls straighten out.

Kirishima just shakes his head; “Bakugou is always disappearing. You know he doesn’t like hanging with us a lot.”

“No, Denki’s right,” Sero nods, “even if he isn’t hanging with us, he’s usually in his room or in the gym. Recently, he just completely disappears.”

“I guess you’re right…” Kirishima frowns.

“Wait,” Jirou calls out, “what are you saying? That Bakugou is disappearing with Y/N?”

“That’s crazy,” Mina brushes off. “I’ve never even seen the two talk to each other unless they’re forced to–wait.”

Everyone's eyes snap to hers, wide.

“What?”

“You don’t think… no. It’s not possible.”

“Oh my god,” Denki cries out suddenly, leaning forward with a manic look in his eyes. “Bakubro is hurting Y/N!”

“Wait–”

“No way!” Kirishima calls out, turning to Denki. “Bakugou is a lot of things, but he would never hurt somebody intentionally. Especially not a girl. That’s not manly. Right, Midoriya?”

“Right,” Deku nods confidently, before pausing; “I think?”

“Hey!”

“Guys, no!” Mina cuts in, shaking her hands widely before her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…” Momo nods, “then what?”

She leans in, pausing for dramatic effect. “He could be… her soulmate!”

There’s silence, then, “no way.”

Mina’s face falls; “why not?”

“Bakugou? Having a soulmate?” Jirou snorts, “I doubt that.”

“Everybody has one!”

“Okay, the odds of him actually caring about his soulmate are slim to none,” Froppy offers in response.

“Yeah,” Deku nods, “I've never once seen Kacchan show interest in his soulmate like… ever.”

Kirishima shakes his head; “even I have to admit that’s so not manly.”

Everyone shuffles around agreements but Mina is quick to argue; “have any of you guys ever seen Bakugou’s soulmate mark?” Slowly, one by one, all glancing at each other, the guys shake their heads. Mina then turns to the girls. “Okay, have any of you ever seen Y/N’s? Cause she’s never shown or told me.”

The girls all shake their heads.

“So how can you really know?” Mina raises a brow, “I mean, Y/N is always so secretive about her mark. She refuses to tell me.”

“Bakugou, we have—”

“Katsuki.”

Coming to a sharp halt, lips left parted, you blink up at Bakugou.

With a grin, Bakugou gently shuts your mouth with a hand to your jaw, laughing lightly; “say Katsuki. That’s my name.”

You can feel your cheeks warm, profusely, and a burst of heat flood through you as you pull yourself from his touch, avoiding his gaze. “Katsuki,” you oblige with a huff and a pout. “We have a problem.”

“Yes?” Bakugou asks, raising a brow your way as he lowers the weight’s he’d been lifting.

“The girls are onto us!”

Bakugou just stares down at you. “What does that mean?”

Exasperated at his obliviousness, you huff, stretching your hands out before you for emphasis as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “They know I’ve been disappearing after class a lot. I tried to tell them I was training, which I guess we usually are but Jirou caught on to that being a lie too and now they’re onto us!”

Bakugou just blinks. “But what do you mean onto us?”

You let out a cry; “Katsuki! They’re gonna know we’re soulmates!”

“So?”

Pressing a hand to your face, you can’t believe your situation. Not only were the girls onto you, they knew you were lying, which made you feel awful and if they found out that you’d been spending all your time with Bakugou… well that was bound to bring up more questions. Questions you wouldn’t be able to avoid. Questions that would ultimately lead to them finding out Bakugou was your soulmate.

A hand gently reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as Bakugou crouches to meet your eyes directly.

“Why is it such a big deal?” He asks gently, an odd tone that you’re still not used to hearing from Bakugou yet. His face remains neutral but there’s patience lingering in his eyes as he waits for you to explain why you’re so upset.

And you do. Your lips part and the words are at the tip of your tongue until, suddenly, you can’t say anything.

Nothing leaves your lips.

“Y/N?”

“I…—”

“You don’t want them to know?”

Blinking, you bite your lip. “It’s not that, it’s just…” But again, you can’t find the words.

“You don’t trust them?”

“Of course I do,” you argue instantly, “they’re my best friends.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, and then his face twists, “are you… embarrassed of me?”

Meeting his gaze, you frown. “...No,” you whisper, and you mean the words.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I…” Shoulders falling, you frown. “Nothing… I guess.”

“So,” he says, “let them find out!”

Sputtering, you lean back; “it’s not like you’ve told Kirishima or any of the other guys!”

“It’s none of their business,” Bakugou shrugs, letting go of your wrists to set his hand on your head. “But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell them.”

You find yourself silent with disbelief once again, Bakugou’s words echoing in your mind paired with the look in his eyes. Just staring down at you.

Looking at you.

Like you’re his whole world.

“I’m sorry.”

They blink at you.

“I’m sorry about running away yesterday.”

Another blink.

“And I'm sorry I’ve been lying to you guys for the past few weeks.”

Slowly, all the girls glance at each other, trying to gauge the situation, before Uraraka is the first to speak up.

“It’s okay,” she assures with a smile, setting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate you apologizing. We were just worried.”

“We wanna make sure you’re okay,” Jirou adds, smiling shyly at you.

You take a look at all of their faces, seeing the sincerity staring back at you, before settling on Mina who still has a hint of hurt in her eyes but there’s also hope.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Bakugou’s my soulmate.”

Silence echoes, once again, before.

“What?”

“I knew it!”

“Bakugou!?”

There’s a mix of words, gasps of disbelief and shouts of question thrown out at you as all the girls rush towards you, swarming you, desperate for answers.

You laugh a little at their reaction, and that catches their attention.

“Y/N?” Mina asks, confused.

“I’ve been sneaking off to see him,” you explain to her, meeting her gaze, before letting your gaze drift. “I didn’t say anything because I’m still adjusting to it myself and I still don’t know how to feel about it. But I realized it isn’t fair to lie to you guys like that and that I want you guys to know because you matter so much to me.”

“Y/N…” Uraraka mumbles, tears welling in her eyes.

Her expression mimics many of the other girls before suddenly there’s a body slamming against your own, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you stumble back, trying to catch your footing.

“Oh. My. God!” Mina screams, you wincing at the sheer volume, as she pulls back, grinning brightly at you. “You have to tell us everything!”

The next morning, you’re sitting at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast, chatting to Mina, Jirou and Kirishima. The rest of the students trickle by, some making breakfast, some in the living room, all in their own conversations, until suddenly it all stops.

It takes you a moment to realize Kirishima, Mina and Jirou are no longer listening to you, head turned to their right and following their gaze, curious, you blink when you realize it’s Bakugou they’re staring at. It’s not like he’s doing anything particularly odd, nothing except for the fact that his gaze is directed on you and he’s heading straight for you and then suddenly, he’s right in front of you.

His gaze drifts from you, to your plate, back to you; “who made you that?”

“Nobody,” you say slowly, still stunned. “I made it.”

He’s grabbing the plate before you can say anything else, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has your cheeks burning before turning and making his way to the fridge.

“I’ll make you something better,” is all he says in explanation.

Your gaze slowly drifts from him to Mina and Jirou who are grinning widely at you, before there’s the shout of;

“Did Bakubro just kiss Y/N?!”

“And offer to make her breakfast!”

“Wait,” Kirishima suddenly calls after Sero and Denki, turning to Mina and Jirou, “why are two grinning!?”

“All the girls are!” Deku exclaims, pointing at Uraraka and Froppy in front of him.

“You guys knew?”

“Of course,” Mina grins, sending a wink Kirishima’s way before shrugging. “Isn’t that right, Bakugou? You and Y/N are soulmates!”

Everyone expects him to ignore her or tell her to shut up, but instead, he pauses in what he’d been doing (cracking an egg for you), turning his head over his shoulders to meet your gaze before smirking.

“That’s right.”

And chaos follows.

Utter and complete chaos.

#mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 11 months ago

Text

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Warnings: pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: @bradleybeachbabe inspired me to write this (as well as Eric Winter posting about the Dodgers)! I hope you enjoy the game you're going to soon, Rachel!!!💙

Today’s date has been circled on your calendar for months. The Dodgers are playing at home in LA, and you got tickets behind home base. Since scoring the tickets, you’ve been counting down the moments, using this game to get you through tough days and long nights. Now that it’s finally here, you can forget about everything else for the evening and enjoy the game, hoping for another exciting evening like the tiebreaking two-run homer you watched on TV last week. Dressed in your favorite Dodgers shirt, you leave for Dodgers Stadium happier than you’ve been in weeks. Something in the Los Angeles air makes you think it will be a great night.

“Lucy, if I had an extra ticket, I’d sell it,” Tim sighs as he parks at Dodgers Stadium. “If you want to be at this game so badly, ask Thorsen. If anyone can get you a last-minute ticket, it’s him.”

“But he’s already at the game,” Lucy laments over the phone.

“So am I!”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is that-“ Tim stops and shakes his head. “Lucy, I hope you can figure something out. If not, I’ll tell you all about the game at work.”

“Ugh, you’re such a man.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Tim ends the call before Lucy can explain that she did not mean that as a compliment. It’s been a tough week at the Mid-Wilshire station, and Tim wants to watch a good game, cheer for his team, and unwind.

Tim smiles as he makes his way to his seat: an unexpected but highly appreciated upgrade to home base. Coming into Dodgers Stadium feels like coming home, and Tim thinks tonight will be a good game. At least until he sees that the seat beside him, which he expected to be empty, is occupied by a woman scrolling on her phone rather than enjoying the pre-game activities. He ignores his disappointment at being in the section with a disinterested neighbor as he watches warmups.

You look up from the detailed roster file you keep on your phone. Gavin Lux, an infielder who is a left-hand batter and right-hand thrower, is wearing his glove on his right hand for warmups. As you scroll through your newest notes, glancing up at the team every few swipes, someone sits beside you.

“Left, right,” you murmur to yourself.

“Excuse me?” the man asks.

You lift your gaze from your phone, then freeze when you see the attractive man occupying the seat to your right.

“Sorry, I’m talking to myself. Lux is just… never mind, sorry.”

As you turn back toward the field, he asks, “Lux is?”

“He’s warming up with his glove on his throwing hand.”

The man looks out into the field, locates Lux, and nods. “He is. Any idea why?”

You shake your head. “I thought maybe I was remembering his stats wrong, but I double-checked and he’s warming up opposite.”

“Interesting. Think we can win with him off his game?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug. “I don’t think he’s the player that makes or breaks a game. Unless he tries to bat right-handed, we should be okay.”

“I’m Tim,” he introduces, offering his hand.

You shake his hand as you tell him your name, surprised by how he holds your hand in his just a moment longer than is usually acceptable. You don’t mind, especially when he smiles and asks if you’ve noticed anything else.

“Is this your usual seat?” you inquire after a few minutes of discussing the players and their techniques.

“No, my season pass gets me over first base,” Tim answers. “You?”

“One-night only. I’d love to get a season pass someday.”

“If we win tonight, they should give you one on principle.”

You laugh as you ask, “Why?”

“If we win tonight after that tenth inning save last week, with our infielders off their game, and you just happen to be in the crowd? You’d have to be good luck.”

“Maybe it’s just a good day,” you counter softly.

Tim smiles as he agrees, “Maybe.”

“Stop letting the ball play you!” someone behind you yells. “This is why they should have left you in the minors!”

You stifle a laugh at their enthusiasm but agree with them. Tim sighs beside you and checks the score.

“Just one can of corn, is that too much to ask?” Tim grumbles.

“Wow,” you exclaim. “You really just used that term.”

“You disagree?”

“Not at all, just haven’t heard someone younger than Babe Ruth call it that.”

“Then, what do we do? We’re going to lose at this rate.”

You shrug and offer, “Guess I’m not very good luck, after all.”

Tim wants to disagree but decides that it’s not his place. If the Dodgers win, then he’ll tell you that he’s impressed by you, drawn to you, but otherwise, you’ll go your separate ways, never to see one another again.

“I don’t want to watch this, Tim,” you say with a pout.

The Dodgers are tied in the bottom of the ninth in a concerning parallel to their previous game. You don’t trust them to get the ball where it needs to be to win, not after their lackluster performance in the first few innings.

“Wish them luck,” Tim encourages, standing beside you as the crowd roars. “C’mon, give into the superstition once. What’s the worst that happens?”

“We lose, and my night of relaxation becomes me wondering if you put a curse on the team by saying good luck in these sacred walls.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but it’s a baseball game. It’s not that serious.”

You try to ignore Tim, but the smile on his face is too hard to look away from. To appease him and partially because you love hearing him say you are good luck, you whisper a wish of good luck, boys through the net separating you from foul balls.

And, somehow, between when you speak and when the stadium silences, Mookie Betts hits a homerun that echoes throughout Los Angeles, and the Dodgers perform another walk-off.

“You did it!” Tim yells as the crowd erupts into cheers.

He pulls you into his arms, completely forgetting his prior hesitance to tell you how much you affected him, and you throw your arms over his shoulders as he spins you. When your feet are on the ground again, you cup Tim’s jaw and smile.

“We won!” you cheer as fireworks boom overhead.

“You really are good luck,” Tim replies.

“Maybe you’re the good luck."

Tim shakes his head and leans closer to you. The stadium around you is completely forgotten, entirely focused on the man before you. His hands are on your waist, yours are framing his face, and you can’t wait to hear what he says next.

“Will you go out with me? I think we could both use some more good luck,” he proposes.

Your smile widens as you nod. “I’d love to.”

Tim pulls you against his side, his arm warm and steady over your shoulders as you cheer for your home team and yourself.

Bonus:

“So, how was the game, Tim?” Lucy asks before roll call.

“It was great, after we caught up, at least,” Tim answers. “Did you watch it?”

“Yeah, Aaron pulled through and got me a ticket. Over the outfield but still better than anything I could’ve gotten on my own.”

Tim nods, but she doesn’t move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.

“What?” he asks.

“I saw something else at the game. Someone made it onto the jumbotron,” Lucy sing-songs. “You’re trending on ClipTok. Everyone’s talking about the mystery couple who celebrated the win.”

Tim narrows his gaze at Lucy, who shrugs and invites him to check for himself before she enters the roll call room. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see a text from you.

We’re trending. I don’t know if I should be more upset by all the people shamelessly looking for us or that they’re calling you ‘gorgeous’ and I’m ‘that girl hugging him.’

Tim rolls his eyes and answers:

Wait until they find out why we won.

You don’t acknowledge the implication that he’ll tell someone (Lucy, who will undoubtedly put it on ClipTok); instead, you tell him you’re looking forward to dinner tonight. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at a baseball game for you and Tim turned into something so much more. If that’s not good luck, you don’t know what is.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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sativariddle · 3 months ago

Text

ALERT ⓘ THEODORE NOTT HAS LETTER 2/5

TATBILB AU. navigation. my au’s.

⤷ read this to understand ᥫ᭡.

DEAR THEODORE;

I’VE BEEN MEANING to say this for a while, and maybe i’m only finding the courage now because i’ve finally made sense of it myself.

whenever it’s slytherin versus hufflepuff on the quidditch pitch, i used to dread it. not because i didn’t love quidditch, but because of you. you were fast and always three steps ahead. everyone said you were one of the best, and i believed it. but my heart would race in a way that didn’t quite make sense for just nerves over a match.

i used to think i was intimidated by you. and maybe, in part, i was. but now, looking back with clearer eyes, i think it was more than that. i think it was because i had a crush on you: one i didn’t even recognize at the time. the way you moved, how focused you were. and i never knew how to explain it, not even to myself.

it’s weird, realizing that a crush can hide in plain sight for so long. that your heart can keep something secret even from yourself. i look back now and everything makes more sense: how my eyes found you even when they shouldn’t have, how your voice always made something inside me freeze up, how i remembered things you said without even meaning to.

you’re not the easiest person to love, and i say that as someone who probably isn’t either. but there’s something about you, the way you say so little but mean so much, that makes me want to try.

═════════════

OF COURSE. OF COURSE of course. of course. of course. of course.

mattheo stares at you, waiting for an answer, and you’re frozen: like a clueless fish, mouth opening and closing, not a single word managing to escape. this is a disaster. an absolute disaster.

you open your mouth again, this time ready to actually speak, unlike before, when nothing came out. but just as the words begin to form, you hear your name being called. and maybe it should’ve made you feel better: knowing someone will pull your attention away from mattheo, even if just for a moment. but it didn’t. because the voice that pulled you away from riddle… it belonged to theodore nott.

you’d recognize that voice from a mile away. you’d heard it plenty during the slytherin vs. hufflepuff quidditch matches. but this time, he wasn’t shouting at a teammate. he was shouting for you.

a glittering letter gripped tightly in his hand. you blinked, stunned. you knew they were out there, but you didn’t expect to be confronted by the next person. not when you hadn’t even dealt with mattheo yet.

“…are you even listening?”

mattheo’s voice barely registered. the sound of it blurred into the background as something gripped you—panic, all the more suffocating. because walking toward you was theodore nott.

it was like watching a nightmare step out of your memories. the kind you try to forget until it decides to remind you. all you could think about were those stupid letters. the ones you never should’ve written, or at least never should’ve meant. and now they were catching up to you in the form of theo’s gaze, like the universe had been waiting for the most inconvenient time to let it all unravel.

“no,” you blurted, quicker than you meant to. guilt crept in immediately. normally, you’d soften the truth, throw out some small hearted excuse just to keep the peace. but not now. not when your mind was racing, your cheeks were burning, and your only thought was that you needed to find luna and ask her what the hell she was thinking. because surely, she’d have something strange or somehow good to say that could make sense of this mess.

do you feel like a terrible friend for instantly blaming luna? absolutely. but do you also think she had something to do with it: one hundred and one percent? also absolutely.

she was the only one you ever showed. well—no, not even that. she found it. all curious eyes and quiet way of knowing too much without asking. luna’s the only one who knows about the letters besides you. the day after she stumbles upon them, they’re suddenly everywhere? out in the open like some twisted joke? it’s too much of a coincidence. practically screaming in your face.

you feel sick. embarrassed in a way that makes your skin crawl. you can already picture blaise reading your words and thinking you’re completely unhinged. enzo laughing to himself and calling you weird. draco raising a perfectly judgmental brow, convinced you’ve finally lost it.

and the look on theodore’s face as he walks toward you says enough: he thinks you’re all of it. weird, unhinged, embarrassing, a mess.

mattheo’s still in front of you, unaware that his best friend is fast approaching. you don’t have time to think: you act on instinct, driven by panic and the desperate need to escape whatever this moment is about to become.

“—if you don’t want to talk, that’s too bad, tel—”

“kiss me.” yes, you felt insane. yes, your heart was thudding so hard it hurt. and yes, the embarrassment of what you’d just said was enough to make you want to vanish into thin air.

“hmm?” he blinked, shocked; so insanely taken aback that under any other circumstances, you might’ve laughed. but there was no time for that. you were running on pure adrenaline now, the kind that only comes when your past is walking straight toward you and your present is preparing for impact.

“you—“ interruptions. god, interruptions. but for once, you welcomed them. because the best way to interrupt someone is to kiss them. maybe, it was also the best way to get out of a situation you had no idea how to make it through.

kisses like this are usually awkward: either for the people watching or for the ones doing it. but strangely, you didn’t feel awkward at all. not when riddle kissed you back without hesitation, hands sliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer against him.

you expected him to pull away, to stop and ask what the hell you were doing, but instead, he leaned in harder. one hand moved to cup your face, a little too eagerly. and okay, maybe it felt a little ridiculous being held like a hotdog, but then he was sucking on your bottom lip and all thoughts vanished.

nevertheless, part of you stayed alert. you cracked an eye open, peeking over his shoulder just in time to catch the end of theodore’s shoe disappearing around the corner. relief flooded your chest so fast it made you lightheaded. that same relief spilled into the kiss: you let your mouth part slightly, and mattheo took full advantage. his pink tongue slipped past your lips with ease.

you know this won’t be the last time theodore brings up that painfully embarrassing letter. he’s going to mention it again, of course he is. and why? you might have an idea, some vague guess buried under your denial. however, for now, you’ve bought yourself time. and that alone is enough to make you breathe a little easier.

you pulled away immediately, lips parting as you catched your breathe. mattheo’s gorgeous eyes fluttered open, long lashes framing that dangerously pretty stare: so intense they might as well have been weapons. he looked unreal. all dark eyes and flushed lips, like he’d stepped straight out of a dream.

you almost sighed just looking at him. how is it always the most beautiful men who turn out to be the absolute worst? evil, complicated, magnetic motherfuckers who ruin you with a kiss and don’t even flinch.

tags; @genterom903 @thaliashifts @benbarnesprettygurl @downbad4reid @wannagetnoodles @tjbfingfh @genterom903 @dishakidishakyahn @messageforthesmallestman @bluntzah

#🗡️jujus!navigation.#to all the boys i’ve loved before au #mattheo imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #theo nott #matheo riddle #harry potter #hp fandom #fanfic #hogwarts houses #mattheo angst #mattheo fluff #hufflepuff #to all the boys i've loved before

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misshoneyimhome · 5 months ago

Text

What's up buttercups! 💕

Chapter three is here, and things are starting to take shape! I know, we’re still keeping a steady pace, but trust me—good things take time (at least that’s what I keep telling myself while writing this f-ing slow burn…🙈).

As always, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading, darlings! 😊✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, smut 18+, Auston x unknown female character, protected vaginal penetration

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Three: Pucks, Plans, and Pretences*

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems our Ice King has traded his signature cool for something decidedly warmer. A newly surfaced photo from the depths of the Scotiabank Arena has set the internet alight, capturing Auston Matthews and his now-infamous Mystery Queen in a moment that could rival any story.

The city can’t stop talking.

But what’s the real story? Is this the beginning of something genuine or a strategic distraction for Toronto’s captain? Matthews, ever the enigma, isn’t saying much—but that smirk of his has done little to quell the rumours.

As for his Mystery Queen, she’s still just that—a mystery. Ambitious, poised, and undeniably captivating, she’s become the city’s obsession overnight.

Whether this is love, strategy, or something in between, Toronto is hooked. And with Matthews at the helm of this unfolding drama, one thing is certain: it’s going to be a season to remember.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Tuesday –

Sitting by the high table in the compact kitchen of your small studio flat, you traced the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly. The faint hum of the city outside was a comforting white noise, a familiar backdrop to your mornings. But the fragile peace didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment. You groaned, setting down your mug to glance at the screen. Of course, it was Jess and Maya. The two of them had wasted no time diving into what was clearly the hot topic of the day.

Jess (7:13 AM): “Spotted: You and Auston. AGAIN. Girl, explain.”

Maya (7:15 AM): “We need a FULL breakdown. Coffee tonight. No excuses!”

You sighed, gripping the warm mug a little tighter as you composed a response. Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

You (7:18 AM): “There’s really nothing to explain.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Maya (7:19 AM): “Oh, please. You’re trending AGAIN. #MysteryQueen is still going strong. Spill.”

Jess (7:20 AM): “You can’t brush this off. Coffee tonight after work, our usual spot. Don’t make me come to your place.”

You let out a soft laugh despite the tension knotting in your chest. Jess and Maya were relentless, but their concern came from a good place. They were your best friends—your constants in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

Still, the guilt nagged at you. They were cheering for you, defending you, believing you were swept up in some whirlwind romance. And here you were, dodging their excitement with half-truths and carefully constructed vagueness.

You (7:22 AM): “Fine. Coffee tonight. But it’s really not as exciting as you think, ladies.”

Jess (7:23 AM): “We’ll be the judges of that.”

Maya (7:24 AM): “Don’t forget the juicy details. We need to know EVERYTHING.”

You set your phone down with a heavy sigh, your appetite fading as stress settled over you like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn’t just the messages. It was the weight of everything that had piled up over the past few days.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, watching the liquid swirl. The events of the gala played on a loop in your mind, every moment amplified now that the media had latched onto you. And then there was Auston.

Had you really agreed to fake-date Auston Matthews, the Ice King himself? The words “Let’s do it” echoed in your mind, making you wince. What had possessed you?

You knew the answer: desperation.

Auston’s reasons were crystal clear. He wanted control over the narrative. He needed a way to silence the incessant speculation about his personal life. His pitch had been logical, almost clinical. And you, standing at the crossroads of your career, had agreed.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. If his biggest problem is dodging rumours about his love life, he’s got it easy.

Your problems felt heavier. Tangible. Your boss’s voice rang in your ears, his warnings cutting through your thoughts: “No distractions. No drama. No more headlines.” The gala had already pushed you to the edge of his patience. And now? Now you were willingly diving into a situation that could unravel everything you’d worked for.

But wasn’t this what you wanted? A chance to make your mark, to prove you weren’t just another cog in the machine? Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing you a lifeline—wrapped in chaos, sure, but a lifeline, nonetheless.

Or maybe you were just grasping at straws.

You sighed, pushing your barely touched breakfast aside. The decision had been made. There was no turning back now. Auston had given you an option, and you’d taken it.

Your to-do list for the day felt overwhelming. Face your boss. Navigate the fallout. And later, coffee with Jess and Maya. They’d want answers—real ones, not the half-hearted deflections you’d been giving them.

You weren’t sure how much you could—or should—tell them. But one thing was certain: you needed to pull yourself together. Time was ticking, and the last thing you could afford was to let it all spiral out of control.

Auston Matthews awoke with nothing but a grin on his face. The kind of grin that wasn’t about a win or a goal, but about the sheer satisfaction of knowing he’d set the board perfectly for the game ahead. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. Felix, his Australien Bernedoodle, was already wagging his tail eagerly, sensing that his human was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright, Snuff” Auston muttered, stretching as he reached for the dog’s leash. “Let’s go.”

The grin stayed fixed on his face as he walked Felix through the quiet morning streets of Toronto, hidden just slightly under the brim of his cap. The rhythm of his steps matched the upbeat hum in his chest. Felix trotted ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant. Auston’s thoughts, however, were far from their usual pre-game routine.

You’d said yes. The moment replayed in his mind, not because he doubted it had happened, but because of the satisfying sense of control it gave him. You had agreed to his plan. Fake dating. It was genius, really. It ticked every box: no questions about his personal life, no endless media speculation about who he was seeing, and the cherry on top—it made him unavailable. Off the market. And if anything, it made him even more unattainable.

Felix barked once, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” Auston chuckled, tugging the leash gently to keep his dog moving. “Don’t get too excited.”

Back at home, Felix flopped onto his dog bed with a satisfied huff while Auston grabbed his duffel bag and packed for the day. The grin still hadn’t faded. Tonight was a game night, and he had an away trip to Columbus. Normally, his thoughts would already be on the ice, visualising plays, but today his mind kept drifting back to you and the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

Auston wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the media worked. They’d dissect every glance, every move, every word exchanged between the two of you. That was the world he lived in—a world of scrutiny, where even his most mundane actions were twisted into headlines. And yet, for once, he didn’t mind. You weren’t like the others who had flitted through his orbit.

Most women in this position would’ve jumped at the chance to bask in the glow of his fame. But you? You seemed determined to avoid it entirely, almost as if the spotlight burned too bright for your liking. That was refreshing. It intrigued him. And maybe—just maybe—it was part of why this plan felt so right.

He paused mid-pack, considering for a moment if he should bring his PR manager into the loop. Ultimately, he decided against it. The man hadn’t even batted an eye at the first photo. For someone like Auston, these kinds of headlines were par for the course. A fake relationship wouldn’t even register as a blip on his radar. And besides, Auston didn’t want anyone meddling. This was his game, and he intended to play it his way.

His teammates? They didn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. They’d complicate things with relentless teasing, and Auston wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mitch Marner’s inevitable barrage of questions. And his family? Absolutely not. All they needed to know was that he wasn’t available. End of story.

The airport was bustling with the usual pre-travel chaos. Players joked and jostled each other, tossing bags into overhead bins and making playful bets about who would score the first goal of the night. Auston moved through the commotion with his usual calm, but the grin remained—a subtle, smug reminder to himself that he had everything under control.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice rang out as he flopped into the seat beside Auston. “What’s with the face? You win the lottery or something?”

Auston smirked, adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. “Something like that.”

Mitch squinted at him suspiciously. “This have anything to do with the latest post? You know, the one that’s got X losing its mind?”

“Don’t start, Marner,” Auston replied, his voice even but amused.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Mitch said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, man. Spill. Who is she? I mean we know what she works with, but… She’s not another one of those random girls you keep fucking, is she?”

Auston sighed, pulling one side of his headphones down. “She’s just someone I’m getting to know. Relax.”

“Someone you’re getting to know?” Mitch echoed, his grin widening. “That’s all we get? Not even a compliment about her ass?”

“Drop it,” Auston said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Across the aisle, William piped up. “If she’s just someone you’re getting to know, why’s she all over your social media? You’re usually better at keeping things under wraps.”

Auston shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s not all over my social media. That’s the media doing what they do.”

But Mitch wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t talk about the other girls, but you’re dodging questions about her? That’s new.”

Auston shot him a look. “Maybe because it’s none of your business, Mitchy.”

The banter continued as the plane took off, Mitch throwing playful jabs from across the aisle and William chiming in with his usual teasing smirk. Auston brushed it off with ease, keeping his replies curt and nonchalant. But their questions lingered in his mind, nagging at the edges of his thoughts like a loose thread.

If his teammates were already this curious, what would happen when the media started digging deeper? And they would dig deeper. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. They’d dissect every detail, every inconsistency, every crack in the story. That’s when it hit him—he didn’t know enough about you. Not the kind of things that would make a fabricated relationship believable, at least.

Your favourite coffee order. Your go-to excuse for leaving a party early. The kind of music you liked to blast when no one else was around.

He needed to know something—anything—that could make this story feel authentic. His teammates might have been satisfied with the vague details he’d given them for now, but they nor the media wouldn’t let it slide. This had to look real. And for it to look real, he had to be able to talk about you like he’d known you for longer than a fleeting gala moment.

Auston leaned back in his seat, letting out a small breath. The team’s chatter faded into the background as he turned his focus inward. He’d have to talk to you, but it couldn’t feel forced. It had to be casual, natural. Just enough to set things straight and make sure the narrative stayed intact.

Satisfied with the plan forming in his mind, Auston allowed himself to relax, the familiar hum of the plane’s engines lulling him into a moment of calm. He adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones and gazed out the window as the city faded into the distance. The grin he’d worn all morning crept back onto his face, a mixture of confidence and anticipation.

This was going to work. It had to.

You might not realise it yet, but Auston Matthews had chosen you for a reason. You weren’t just a pawn in his game. You were the perfect partner in crime for the plan he was about to execute.

As you walked into the office, you held your chin high, shoulders back, just like Jess always encouraged during your frantic late-night phone calls. Her voice still echoed in your head: “Own it. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat.” Easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor with a rhythm that you hoped exuded confidence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the charade pressing against your chest. The office buzzed with its usual energy—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, snippets of conversations floating through the air. But today, the atmosphere seemed to hum with something sharper, something just shy of gossip. Again, you didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were about you.

You felt their eyes on you as you passed, a few heads turning slightly as you walked by. It was subtle—an extra glance, a barely concealed smirk, a phone quickly tucked away as if you’d interrupted someone mid-scroll through the latest viral photos. You’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, but you ignored it. No doubt Jess or Maya was checking in to remind you of your coffee date later. Or worse, your boss with a sharp-edged “we need to talk.” Neither option felt appealing.

By the time you reached your desk, the tension in your chest had settled into a dull ache. You sat down, carefully placing your bag at your feet, and took a steadying breath. The screen of your laptop glowed to life as you opened it, the familiar sight of your inbox providing a small sense of normalcy.

But even as you sifted through emails, your thoughts kept circling back to the lie you were living. You felt bad for keeping Jess and Maya in the dark. They were your best friends, your ride-or-die crew, the people who’d been there for you through every triumph and heartbreak. But you couldn’t risk telling them the truth.

What would happen if anyone found out? The question lingered in your mind like a persistent shadow. Even the smallest crack in the story you and Auston would be concocting could lead to an avalanche. If word got back to your boss that this wasn’t just an accidental photo op but a deliberate ruse? You didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

So, you kept your cards close to your chest, smiling politely when a co-worker passed by, nodding along to the faint hum of office chatter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jess and Maya—it was that you didn't want to burden them with this. The stakes were too high. Or maybe, just maybe, you felt a bit embarrassed about having agreed to it?

For now, your best move was to stick to the plan: keep your head down, stay professional, and pray the whirlwind around you would eventually settle.

But as the day stretched on and the whispers persisted, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope with no safety net.

During the workday, you did your best to stay under the radar, skirting through the office with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your strategy was simple: avoid your boss at all costs. Fortunately, his schedule was jam-packed with back-to-back meetings, giving you a much-needed buffer.

Still, you weren’t entirely off the hook. You’d barely rounded the corner when he appeared, laptop in hand, his expression sharp and unreadable.

“Y/N,” he called out, his tone clipped.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral. “Good day, Mr. Manion.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yes, well. Care to explain why half the office is suddenly fixated on some hockey romance conspiracy theories? Or why your face seems to be at the centre of it, again?”

You swallowed hard, scrambling for a response that sounded calm and collected. “Just media being media,” you said lightly, forcing a small shrug. “They’re spinning something out of nothing. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Manion stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to dissect the truth. “It better. We’ll discuss this later. My office, tomorrow morning. Or… when I have time for this mess.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’d just delayed the inevitable.

The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. No matter how much you tried to focus, the looming conversation with your boss weighed heavily on your mind.

By the time the clock struck five, you were almost relieved to escape the office and head to the coffee shop where Jess and Maya were waiting.

The café was warm and bustling, the scent of freshly brewed espresso mingling with the faint sweetness of baked goods. Jess and Maya were already seated in the corner, their expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience as they spotted you walking in.

“Well, well,” Maya teased, her grin widening as you slid into the chair opposite her. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jess smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Y/N. Spill. Now.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the mug the barista had just placed in front of you. “Please, calm down. It’s not as exciting as you think. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Jess said bluntly. “You’re trending. You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Maya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on. We’re your best friends. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?”

There it was—the guilt. It crept into your chest like a cold weight, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to stick to the story.

“We met at the gala,” you began, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “He was… well, exactly how you’d expect. Arrogant, cocky, a total smartass.”

Jess arched a brow. “So, what? He just walked up to you and swept you off your feet?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Not exactly. I sort of… tripped, and he caught me. It was all very cliché.”

Maya gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Like something out of a movie! I knew it!”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “He was just being polite. Honestly, I thought he’d forget about me the second I walked away.”

Jess tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “But he didn’t.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment. “No, he didn’t. He’s been… persistent. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s not really my type.”

Maya’s jaw dropped. “Not your type? Are you serious? He’s Auston Matthews. Literal perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t exactly charming when it comes with an ego the size of the CN Tower,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Jess.

“Fair,” she said, smirking. “But don’t pretend you’re immune. Something about him must’ve worked if he’s got you responding.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the media doing what it does best—blowing things out of proportion.”

Maya studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Jess leaned forward, her grin devilish. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

The conversation continued, a whirlwind of teasing and speculation, but you managed to hold your ground, weaving just enough truth into your story to keep them from digging deeper. By the time you left the café, your nerves were frayed, but at least you’d survived the first round of questions.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.

The training rink in Columbus carried the usual buzz of pre-game preparation: the slap of pucks against the boards, the hum of skates carving into the ice, and the low murmur of coaches directing drills. But something about the energy felt off. Auston could sense it in the way passes missed by inches and shots rang off the crossbar instead of finding the back of the net.

The Leafs were coming off a high, but the weight of expectations clung to the team like an anchor. By the time practice wrapped up, the locker room was filled with subdued chatter, players trying to shake off the tension as they prepared for the night’s game.

Auston, ever the focal point, felt the weight more than most. Captaincy wasn’t just about leading on the ice—it was about carrying the team’s hopes and shielding them from criticism when things went sideways. And tonight, things went very sideways.

The game was a mess from start to finish. Columbus exploited every crack in the Leafs’ defence, while Toronto’s offense sputtered, unable to capitalise on power plays or momentum. Auston had his moments—a slick assist here, a near-miss there—but it wasn’t enough. By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a 4-1 loss.

Auston’s jaw tightened as he skated off the ice, his grip on his stick like a vice. The locker room was eerily quiet post-game, the usual camaraderie replaced with a heavy silence. Players peeled off their gear in near silence, a few murmuring frustrations under their breath. Auston exchanged a few words with the coaches, but the sting of defeat lingered long after he left the rink.

Back at the hotel, the air in Auston’s room felt heavy—thick with the weight of the night’s loss and the expectations that always seemed to grow louder in defeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his duffel bag still untouched by the door, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

Down the hall, his teammates were decompressing in their own ways—some glued to their gaming consoles, others nursing quiet drinks in the lounge—but none of those options appealed to him. Auston’s frustration needed a different outlet.

Without much thought, he opened his DMs, the endless flood of messages a familiar distraction. His name was a magnet, his inbox teeming with invitations, compliments, and the occasional overly bold proposition. One message caught his eye—a familiar face from Columbus. They’d met on a previous trip, a fleeting encounter that left no lasting impression, which was exactly what he needed now.

Auston: “In town for the night. What’s up?”

Her: “Still waiting for you to call. Thought you forgot about me ;)”

Auston: “Never.”

The exchange was simple, transactional, and within the hour, she was knocking on his door.

Auston opened it, leaning casually against the frame. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. She smiled up at him, dressed to impress—or undress. As always, no pleasantries were exchanged; none were necessary. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the outside world.

It was exactly what Auston needed—a reprieve from the relentless noise in his head. She was eager, uncomplicated, and predictable, offering a distraction that required nothing from him emotionally. He let himself sink into the physicality of it, her hands trailing across his chest as she whispered something flirtatious. But her words barely registered. His thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on the ice, replaying the game in relentless detail: the missed chances, the failed plays, the sting of another loss. They drifted to the media frenzy surrounding his so-called “Mystery Queen” and the elaborate charade he was now orchestrating with you. No matter how much he tried to focus on the present, the weight of everything he was juggling refused to let go.

Still, he allowed her to take the lead, lying back as she straddled him with practiced confidence. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it was enough to stoke his hardening member. She felt good, but it was a fleeting, surface-level pleasure. The connection was purely physical, and Auston was fine with that.

Her fingers dug into his chest, as she rode him expertly. Auston felt his climax slowly building, her tight cunt wrapped so neatly around his throbbing cock. He didn’t need more than this. Shutting his eyes he could imagine her to be anyone he’d like. His mind wandered as he heard himself let out a moan. She was good to him, picking up her pace as she too chased her own high.

Her moans filled the room, crescendoing as she announced her climax with exaggerated fervour. Auston stayed silent, his body tense beneath her, waiting for the moment to pass. And when she slumped forward, her chest rising and falling against his, he decided to take control in order to reach the rush.

Flipping her onto her back, he moved with renewed intensity, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. His fingers clenched the sheets as he gave up holding back. He was merciless. Ruthless. Her cries of his name echoed in his ears, a mantra that boosted his ego but did little to penetrate the hollow space inside him.

And when his climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His low, guttural grunt filled the air as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they finally stopped.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering as though she hoped it might spark something deeper. But Auston rolled away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The message was clear, though unspoken.

So, within minutes, she was dressed, smoothing her hair and offering a coy smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she said lightly, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston replied, his tone indifferent as he closed the door behind her. The lock clicked, and just like that, she was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hollow feeling settled in—a familiar, unwelcome companion. The release had been satisfying enough, but it hadn’t erased the gnawing frustration or the pressure weighing on his shoulders. It never did.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. Notifications flooded in: highlights from the game, speculative articles dissecting the team’s loss, and the ever-present hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

A small, wry smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. The plan was working, and that was something. For all the chaos, for all the noise, the narrative was moving exactly as he’d intended. Now all he had to do was keep it that way.

He set his phone back on the nightstand and let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow, he’d regroup. Tomorrow, he’d strategise with you, fine-tune the story you were selling. For tonight, survival was enough.

As exhaustion finally crept in, Auston closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to you once more. You weren’t like the others—too smart, too grounded to fall for someone like him. That was part of the appeal, he realised. You weren’t here for him, not really. And maybe that made you the most intriguing person he’d met in a long time.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, all that mattered was that the noise had faded, if only for a moment.

“Oh, Toronto, isn’t it fascinating how our beloved Ice King chooses to thaw? While the Leafs are licking their wounds after a tough night in Columbus, it seems Auston Matthews is sticking to his tried-and-true method of post-game ‘recovery.’ Word on the street—or rather, whispers through the grapevine—suggests that our captain might not be as unavailable as the Mystery Queen narrative wants us to believe. Curious, isn’t it?

But here’s the thing, dear readers—there’s always more beneath the surface. Matthews might play the media like a maestro, but even the best orchestrations can hit a sour note. Will the cracks start to show? Or will our Ice King’s dual life—both on and off the rink—continue to skate by unscathed?

As for his Mystery Queen? One has to wonder how she fits into this symphony of appearances. Is she just another carefully placed pawn in Auston’s game, or is there something more stirring beneath the headlines?

For now, Toronto, we’re left with a tantalising mix of speculation and intrigue. The season is still young, and the drama is only just beginning. - The Benchwarmer”

Wednesday -

Auston tried to enjoy the breakfast with his teammates. A hotel was a part of their routines, yet it never truly felt like home. His phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications, but one headline in particular caught his eye: “The Ice King’s Double Life? Drama Heats Up Around Toronto’s Star Captain and His #MysteryQueen.”

Auston clicked the link and was greeted by The Benchwarmer’s latest post. The commentary was sharp, hinting at cracks in his narrative and questioning whether the supposed romance with you was genuine—or just another fleeting distraction. The subtext was clear: his actions in Columbus hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Reckless, Matthews. Really reckless. Sure, the plan with you was still in its infancy, but if this was going to work, it needed direction—intent. Otherwise, it would just look like every other shallow story he’d been a part of.

He needed to fix this. Fast.

Grabbing his phone, Auston scrolled to your contact—“PR Genius”—and fired off a quick text.

Auston: “Coffee today? We need to strategize.”

You: “Agreed. When and where?”

Auston: “3 PM. A café on Yonge. I’ll message the address later. Bring your game face.”

As the message was sent, Auston stared at the screen for a moment longer. This wasn’t just about keeping the media at bay—it was about keeping you on his side. If this plan unravelled, it would take both of you down with it.

A bit further North, your morning was no less chaotic than Auston’s. Jess, ever the early riser, was already on fire by the time your phone buzzed with the first notification.

Jess (7:15 AM): “HOW DARE HE???”

Maya (7:16 AM): “Is he seriously doing this to you? I’m ready to slash some tires.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, even as you groaned at their intensity. To them, it was a betrayal of epic proportions. To you, it was just another complication in the tangled web of your arrangement with Auston. But how could they know that? All they saw was a man seemingly toying with your feelings, and as your best friends, they were ready to go to war on your behalf.

You (7:18 AM): “Guys, relax. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

Maya (7:19 AM): “Not official?! You’re trending as #MysteryQueen, Y/N! That’s practically a royal engagement!”

Jess (7:20 AM): “I swear, if he breaks your heart… bad things will happen!”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at their over-the-top reactions. It was sweet how protective they were, but you couldn’t let them spiral into full-blown outrage.

You (7:22 AM): “Look, it’s still early. He can do whatever he wants—we haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

The group chat fell silent for a moment, long enough for you to think maybe they’d finally let it go. But Jess’s response proved otherwise.

Jess (7:30 AM): “Fine. But he better get his shit together, or I’m hunting him down.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, setting your phone down as you leaned back in your chair with a sigh. Jess and Maya were reacting the way anyone would if they thought their friend was being strung along. You couldn’t exactly blame them for jumping to conclusions—it wasn’t like they knew the truth.

Still, it left you with a heavy feeling you couldn’t quite shake. Sure, you weren’t dating Auston—not really. But even you couldn’t ignore how bad it looked. His actions might not have stung personally, but they made everything feel messier, more complicated. You were suddenly questioning whether this whole arrangement was as foolproof as he’d made it seem.

You stared into your half-empty coffee mug, the quiet of your kitchen contrasting sharply with the chaos in your head. By now, the plan you and Auston had agreed on felt more like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest push.

The afternoon coffee with him couldn’t come soon enough. If this ridiculous plan was going to work, you needed to lay everything out on the table and get on the same page—and fast.

The coffee shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon when you arrived, your workday still clinging to you in the form of a slight tension in your shoulders. You pushed open the door, letting the comforting aroma of roasted beans and the soft murmur of conversation wash over you. The café was the perfect midpoint between your home and Auston’s—a cosy, unassuming spot where you could blend in without drawing too much attention.

You spotted him immediately, leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Felix, his ever-loyal best friend, sat patiently by his side, drawing a few admiring glances from other patrons. Auston, as always, looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at once, exuding an ease that made people take notice without realising they were doing so.

Auston caught sight of you as the barista handed him his drink. He gave you a quick nod, that trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted as you approached. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, offering a small smile as you ordered your coffee.

As Auston watched you at the counter, his gaze lingered longer than he’d intended. You were dressed in your workday attire—professional yet effortless, like you hadn’t spent a second longer than necessary pulling yourself together. But it was the way you carried yourself that intrigued him. Even with the slight tension in your shoulders, there was a quiet determination in your movements, a resilience that he couldn’t help but notice.

Once you had your drinks, you stepped outside, where Felix immediately perked up, tail wagging enthusiastically. “He’s got more energy than I do,” you said, watching the dog sniff at a nearby patch of grass.

“Good thing he burns it off fast,” Auston replied, handing you Felix’s leash with an easy confidence that caught you off guard. “Here, you take him for a bit.”

“Me?” You stared at the leash, then at Felix, who was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Yeah, you,” Auston said, his grin widening. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t let him drag you into traffic.”

You rolled your eyes but took the leash, letting Felix lead the way as the three of you started down the quiet street. Auston glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, amused by the way you held the leash like it might bite you. Despite your initial awkwardness, he had a feeling Felix would win you over in no time.

“You’re stiff,” Auston said after a few moments, his tone casual but observant. “Relax. It’s just a walk.”

“It’s not just a walk,” you muttered, glancing around. “There are probably a dozen people ready to take a picture right now.”

“And what if there are?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the weight of being “seen” felt heavier than you’d anticipated.

“You’re overthinking it,” Auston said after a moment. “We’re just two people, walking a dog. Act like it.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, but the edge in your voice made him smirk.

“Try harder,” he teased.

As Felix tugged you toward a nearby lamppost, Auston found himself studying you again. You didn’t fit the mold of the people who usually surrounded him. There was no pretense, no calculated charm. You were genuine—maybe to a fault, given how uncomfortable you seemed in the spotlight. He found it oddly refreshing.

“He’s really into this whole sniffing thing,” you said, changing the subject as Felix investigated another patch of grass.

“He’s thorough,” Auston said with a chuckle. “Doesn’t miss a single blade of grass.”

The light banter helped ease the awkwardness, and soon, the conversation shifted to more neutral topics. He asked about your day, and to his surprise, you opened up with a candid rundown of your work. You asked him about his travel schedule and the demands of his career, your questions more thoughtful than the usual superficial ones he was used to. And for the first time in a while, he felt like someone was genuinely interested in him, not the player or the famous persona.

“You’re used to it, though, right?” you asked. “The attention?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It comes with the job. You get good at tuning it out.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

He caught it anyway. “You’ll get there,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully confident.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

The conversation gradually turned more personal as you walked, Felix weaving between the two of you. Auston told you about growing up in Scottsdale, his early days in hockey, and how he adjusted to life in Toronto. In return, you shared snippets of your own life—your family, your job, your goals.

Yet, as you spoke, Auston couldn’t help but notice how you deflected any kind of praise. If he complimented your work ethic, you’d shrug it off. If he mentioned your ambition, you’d redirect the conversation. It was clear you weren’t comfortable taking credit for your own strengths, and that baffled him. In his world, confidence was currency, and yours seemed to be in short supply.

By the time you circled back toward the coffee shop, the awkwardness from earlier had all but evaporated. Felix was panting happily, his energy finally burned off, and you felt a little lighter too.

As you handed the leash back to Auston, he gave you a considering look. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“The home game?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to be my…” He trailed off, his smirk turning playful. “It’ll look good. You know, for the act.”

You hesitated, unsure, but he pressed on. “Come on. VIP seats, good company. What’s there to think about?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself nodding. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, pulling Felix closer as he grinned down at you. “And don’t forget your game face.”

As he walked away, Auston couldn’t help but glance back, his thoughts lingering on you longer than he expected. For all your insecurities, there was something undeniably compelling about you. This arrangement might have started as a strategy, but he was beginning to wonder if it could be something else too.

“Oh, Toronto. What a tangled web our Ice King is weaving. One moment he’s dominating the ice (or, well, trying to), and the next, he’s walking through the city with his Mystery Queen by his side—dog in tow, coffee in hand, and cameras lurking around every corner.

It’s a scene straight out of a romance novel: casual smiles, shared laughs, and the kind of chemistry that can’t be ignored (even if it’s staged, we see you, Matthews). Yet, there’s something undeniably intriguing about this pairing. She’s poised, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding him, and he? Well, let’s just say he doesn’t seem to mind the added spotlight when she’s in the frame.

But don’t get too comfortable, dear readers. There are cracks in every façade, and this one is no exception. The whispers in the hockey world are growing louder, and if there’s one thing we know, it’s that the truth has a funny way of coming to light—especially when the stakes are this high.

So, what’s the endgame here? Is this truly a strategic pairing, or are we witnessing the beginning of something that neither of them saw coming? Whatever the answer, you can bet your last sip of Tim’s coffee that I’ll be here to spill the tea.

Until next time, Toronto. Keep your eyes on the ice—and the streets. The season is young, and this story is just getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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cultkinkcoven · 10 months ago

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Special reminder to all the new Luciferians that forgot that he is the adversary, yeah, he’s gonna fuck with you FOR FUN.

If you’ve been working with Lucifer for a week or so and have started getting “conflicting” messages, you are not alone ��. Lucifer loves to test us, he loves to see how deep our values go. He will purposely say things you disagree with or it would seem like he would disagree with just to fuck with you. This dude LOVES to debate.

For example, a large part of my relationship with Lucifer involved coming to terms with my neurodivergency. For weeks we were working on accepting my limits, being aware of my disorders and having patience for myself. But during a meditation I got the very strong message from him “People with mental illnesses are just looking for an excuse to be lazy”

and I was like ????? what the fuck???? No they’re not??? You fucking idiot???? Who am I talking to right now???? And he was like “yes and anyone who claims to have a disorder without a diagnosis are just looking for attention. Prove me wrong if you think differently”

and I blew up, providing so many arguments for why he’s wrong and why that stance is so stupid, and eventually after a while he was like “Hm… that’s interesting. I guess you’re right. Now that we’ve established this I guess we won’t need entertain the idea anymore”

and any time after that, when I was having self doubts, maybe I’m just faking it for attention, maybe I’m just lazy, Lucifer has been like “OH! So I guess I WAS right!” and I’ve been like NOOO!!!!!! YOURE WRONG!!! THE ENTIRE IDEA IS STUPID AND I WONT LET YOU TELL ME OTHERWISE!!!

and Lucifer will then be like “Oh, good then. Don’t let you tell you otherwise either”.

He will press your boundaries, even if only to make sure YOU know where your boundaries are. When writing a spell together Lucifer has been like “yes, we will also need to sacrifice a cat”

and I’ve been like “wtf no we’re not sacrificing a cat why the hell would I do that”

and he’s responded “Because I said so. You will obey my order without question.” (again, extremely out of character, this is a test’!)

until I finally put my foot down and say “I don’t care who or what you are, doing this goes against my core values and I will not abandon those for you or anyone. With all due respect I refuse to do this task”

and Lucifer will be like “I’m just fucking with you, I really liked the way you stood your ground against me though, that was very hot”

and for even less obvious things, Lucifer will test you. He wants to know why you think the things you think. We recently had a very long conversation about the concept of Pedophilia. Super uncomfortable, a conversation I didn’t know we’d ever have, but it was important. He starts by asking me if pedophilia is wrong. Um what??? Obviously???

“Why is it wrong? Explain your reasoning.”

Well because it hurts kids.

“What about non offending pedophiles? What about pre offending reformed pedophiles?”

You don’t have to have the answer to those questions, but you must understand that the answers to those questions matter, even though they are incredibly uncomfortable. Are there evil people? Do evil people deserve empathy? What is an evil person? I don’t like thinking about that, that’s the reason why I don’t have an answer. Lucifer will force you to come to that answer.

“How do we conduct a society where we prevent pedophiles from hurting children without creating another form of discrimination? Do you believe pedophiles deserve empathy? Do they deserve to die? How do we deal with murderers and rapists without becoming murderers and rapists ourselves? How do you console yourself with the reality that some people genuinely enjoy evil things? If you were the Emperor of Hell, how would you manage all the most wicked people who have ever lived? Why is incest bad? Why is murder bad? Do racists deserve to die? Do war criminals deserve to die? Who should be allowed to determine who deserves to die? How far does your empathy extend to people who have done horrible things? How does your moral compass navigate these complex scenarios? What is right and what is wrong? Why do you believe the things you believe?”

There will be times when it seems like he’s trying to do everything in his power to just disagree with you. It’ll seem like he’s leading you to argue with him, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’ll ask you questions that should seem like common sense. He’s establishing that not only is it okay to disagree with him, but that at times, he will force you to, to ensure that you are not deriving your own personal values from “whatever God tells you”. He will lie to you, just to see if you’re able to identity a lie. He will say things that he obviously doesn’t believe, only to hear why YOU don’t believe it. It’s important to be firm on your boundaries even if your God is pushing them. You should not be afraid to disagree. You should not be afraid to disobey if it is important to you. Lucifer is not a Shepard and you are not a sheep. You need to understand your own morality alone, without God, without a cheat sheet telling you the answers. and you need to be firm on those. To the point that if God Himself told you differently, you wouldn’t budge.

So if you’ve started working with him recently and are confused as to why he suddenly started saying things you disagree with, investigate what he may be trying to get across. You’ll learn a lot more about yourself.

#pagan #paganism #luciferian witch #luciferism #luciferian #lucifer devotee #theistic luciferianism #lucifer deity #lucifer morningstar #lord lucifer #lucifer #witchcraft #demonology #demonolatry

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xetlynn · 8 months ago

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JJK Imagines- Saturo Gojo

Pink

⚠️Warning🔞: SMUT (My first time writing it so... sorry if it's not the best) Summary: You’re a sharp tongued woman who doesn’t put up with Gojo’s flirting…

[jjk] [main page]

Contains: afab, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, f!recieving oral.

I make my way to meet with Principal Yaga. Gojo is supposed to be there as well but I doubt it due to him just getting back from a mission and that usually means he makes some sort of excuse to miss it.

I entered the room, I’m surprised to actually see Gojo sitting there with Principal Yaga. Both of them look up to me. “Surprised to see me? Hm~” The white haired idiot asks with a smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, sitting on the other side of the table as Yaga was in between us. “What’s the meaning of this?” I immediately questioned, avoiding the area of the teacher who was trying to get my attention.

“There’s a mission in Osaka that needs to be taken care of. Needs two sorcerers to take care of this mess.” Yaga explains, I take in a sharp breath. He knows how I feel about leaving my students. “How long will this take, do you estimate?” I furrow my brows.

“About three days, depending on how you two work together.” He answers, I glance over to my coworker who gives me a small wave. My expression drops even further than it already has. “This is going to take a week.” I stand up, slamming my hand on the table. “Oh, be excited [Name]! You get to work with the strongest! It will take two days I guarantee.” Gojo says after me as I walk away. “You leave tonight!” Yaga shouts loud enough for us to hear.

“I know how much you hate being away from our precious children.” He clasps his hands together striding behind me as I fume with anger. Being stuck with this man for longer than an hour is enough torture for me. “Our students.” I corrected him, “they’re doing amazing. I believe they will be okay without us for a week.” I turn the corner.

“You keep saying a week I think that’s the amount of time you want to spend with me.” He snickers, attempting to lean on me but I punch him in his gut. His infinity stopped me from actually touching him though. Only causing him to laugh even more. “You always try that. Always fail.” He teases me.

“You’re very irritating, Gojo.” I open the door to a lounge, going to sit on the first chair I see. “Mm, I think you secretly enjoy my presence.” He heads over to the fridge, pulling the door open. “In your dreams.” I mutter, I take my phone out to see a message from Shoko. “You do seem to have made a habitat in my mind whilst I sleep.” He picks up something from the bottom shelf of the fridge. Walking over to sit in front of me.

Later in the night Gojo and I stand in front of the school, and Ichiji pulls up, rolling his window down. “Why doesn’t Gojo use his Blue to get to Osaka?” He questions as the both of us throw our bags in the passenger seat since they were only backpacks. “Because he has to be up my ass whenever he can and I don’t like the feeling of being teleported.” I spit out, climbing into the back seat of the car. Gojo follows right behind me.

“I would love to be-”

“Don’t finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you, Gojo Saturo.” I point a finger in his face, clicking my seatbelt on and Ichiji begins to drive. “No need to get hostile, beautiful.” He compliments sweetly, also clicking his seatbelt on.

“Shut up.” I tell him, adjusting myself so I’m facing the window, leaning my head on my hand to fall asleep comfortably but also making sure I get nowhere near the man beside me.

As I keep my eyes shut I finally fall asleep after twenty minutes of being on the road.

When we got to our destination I woke up to Gojo’s hand in the middle of the seats. I glare down at it. It looks like it was expecting to be held. I then look up to him already facing me with a smile. “Was my hand tempting you, beautiful?” He lifts his hand up, wiggling his fingers. “Almost as tempting as punching you in the face.” I got out of the car not before thanking Ichiji. He hands me my bag in response with a short nod.

We were standing in front of a hotel. “I hope they only gave us one bed. How romantic would that be?” Gojo nudges me and I give him an angry expression. “You would sleep on the floor.” I pushed him away from me, surprisingly his infinity was off. We head inside, a lady sitting at the front desk with a bored look on her face.

“Reservation for Gojo and [Last Name].” I give her a polite smile. She looks up to me with the same bored expression. “Hm?” She then eyes me up and down then over to Gojo. I watch as her body language shifts. A grin now on her face, posture straighter and I immediately drop my smile. Sighing.

“What did you say your reservation name was, sir?” She motions for Gojo to answer. His face contorts at first. “I didn’t say anything.” He tells her. He kind of shocked me with his response. Normally he’d soak up any type of attention he got from a woman.

“She did though, didn’t you, beautiful?” He places a hand on my back. I scrunch my nose in disgust. “Gojo and [Last Name].” I grumble out, shimmying away from his touch. “Oh, sorry ma’am.” She types away on her computer. “Ah, room 404. Here you are.” She hands me the keycard. “Thanks.” I take it, walking away now with an attitude because of whatever that interaction was.

“Ouu fourth floor! Hopefully we have a balcony.” Gojo excitedly says, pressing the button for the elevator. “We’re only here to sleep.” I remind him. “Ah, I don’t need much sleep so it’d be nice to have the balcony while you sleep. Unless you want me in the room. I wouldn’t mind either actually. Both would have nice views!” He exclaims as we enter the elevator, he presses the button with a 4 on it.

“I hope we have a balcony.” I mumble under my breath, I hear him quietly laugh to himself. “Glad we can agree.” He says. The elevator dings and we exit. Our room was only two doors down. Not much walking.

I swipe the keycard and open the door. I smile at the sight. Two beds. “Thank you, Yaga.” I put my hands together happily. “Awe man.” Gojo throws his bag on his bed as I jump on mine. “At least you got your balcony.” I motion to the tiny balcony that could only fit two people standing up. “This sucks. I’m going down there and getting us a better room asap.” He grumbles, and I laugh.

“Oh calm down you baby, I made it look smaller than it was.” I snap my fingers and the balcony grows to its actual width. “That was not nice, beautiful.” He wiggles his finger in disapprovement. “Wasn’t meant to be.” I shrug my shoulders before digging into my backpack. “I’m going to take a shower, don't do anything stupid.” I take my pajamas out and head to the bathroom. “Don’t take too long! I’ll miss you!” He calls after me, I flip him off before entering the room.

I shut the door behind me and set my stuff down. I let out a huff, this is going to be a long mission. I can feel it. I turn the water on and stare at it, watching it until I see steam so I can then take my clothes off. I throw the dirty clothes in the corner before getting in the shower.

It was a quick shower, somehow I feel tired all over again even though I just slept five to six hours in the car.

I get dressed into a sweater and go to pick up my underwear but I don’t see it in my little pile. I glance around the bathroom hoping I dropped it in here. “Shit.” I whisper. Hopefully I left it in my bag and didn’t drop it out there. I slip my shorts on and pick up my dirty clothes to put it in a plastic bag I have in my backpack. I swung open the door and Gojo was standing there with my panties in his hand. A large grin plastered on his face.

I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning in embarrassment. “Forgot something, hm?” He dangles it in front of my face and I glare at him. “You’re not funny.” I go to snatch it but he lifts it up higher. “They seem to be brand new, never worn before?” He observes the light pink cotton panties. “Gojo, please.” I reach to grab them again but he just lifts it up once again.

“Answer my question.” He sticks his tongue in between his teeth, genuinely waiting. I give him an “are you serious?” look and he just nods his head.

“I- No, I’ve worn them a few times.” My face heats up, I push past him and put my dirty clothes on my bed. “Can I just have them, please.” I stick my hand out but he shrugs his shoulders. “How badly do you want them, beautiful?” He asks.

“Gojo, this isn’t funny.” I walk over to him attempting to jump up and grab them. “You’re going to have to try a little harderrr~” He snickers. I only brought one other pair because I figured I could use a washing machine if we needed to stay longer. And that was my one other pair.

I get on top of the bed and go to snatch it since I was higher up but it only causes him to pick me up.

As a reflex I wrap my legs around his waist still trying to grab the stupid pair of underwear. “Beautiful if you wanted me to carry you I would’ve done so.” He continues to tease me and I just roll my eyes in response. “I can’t believe I’m feeding into your fantasies you pervert.” I finally grab the pair of underwear and I hold it tight in my hand so he can’t snatch it back.

“Got them.” I grunt, unwrapping my legs and jumping down. His hand was on my back to steady me. I looked up at him and his blindfold was down to his neck now. I didn’t even realize that it fell. “That was unnecessary.” I shove him but he barely moves. “Mm, to you.” He steps closer to me. “I would love to see you in those pink little panties.” He whispers as he looks down at me.

“I’m sure you do.” I whisper back, not looking away from him.

“You’re not wearing panties at all right now are you?” He questions, his eyes traveling down to my legs. My shorts were hidden under my large sweater. “That’s none of your business.” I avoid the stupid question.

“I got my answer.” He snickers, I didn’t even realize how close he was. His nose inches from my own. I’ve never thought of Gojo this way. I mean he just played around with my own underwear from me. I should be wanting to kill him. But I can feel my own arousal…

I pressed my thighs together to get some sort of friction as Gojo Saturo, the man I hated, was staring me down. “Let me help you with your… little problem.” He hesitantly places his hand on my hip, when he sees I’m not going to stop him he gently lifts my sweater up so he can feel my skin. His fingers are squeezing at my flesh. I subtly gasp at the coldness of his fingertips.

“Are you going to stop me?” He tilted his head, his voice was sultry and smooth. A different tone from what I’m used to. I avoid eye contact, shaking my head ‘no.’

His other hand lifts up to my face, his fingers grabbing my chin, forcing me to look back up to him. “I need an answer, beautiful. With words.” He orders.

“Just fucking touch me, Gojo.” I tell him through grinding teeth, not believing that left my mouth. He licks his lips with a smile, his hands pushing me to the bed. “Saturo, don’t call me Gojo during this.” He then finally closes the distance between us by kissing my lips. He guides me further on the bed so he can kneel on the edge, not unlocking our kiss doing so.

His hands grip onto my hips, pulling me as close as possible to him.

After what felt like hours of making out he pulls away, he roughly takes his shirt off, throwing it on the ground. I then do the same thing, just wanting this to happen sooner.

“No bra either? I’m starting to think you left your panties on the ground on purpose~” He satirized me, his hands immediately found my boobs, his mouth on mine once again. “So soft.” He whines in between kisses.

He then kisses the corner of my mouth, going down to my neck. “I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll never have a mean thing to say ever again.” He promises, I let out a shaky breath feeling his lips kiss in between my breasts, trailing all the way down to my shorts. “Let’s see what’s down here.” He smiles to himself, tapping my thighs indicating that I need to lift up. I do so and he yanks my shorts off abruptly. I let out a small yelp due to the coldness hitting me down there. My legs were spread since he was in between them. Giving him an automatic view of my pussy.

“It’s prettier than I ever imagined.” He cooed, his left hand was holding onto my thigh as he got closer down. His stomach now on the bed. His face inches from my core. His other hand traced around my pussy, teasing me. My hole clenching around nothing, waiting for some sort of action. “Oh, you gotta be patient [Name]... I’ve been wanting this for a long, long time.” He bites his lips, admiring me from down there. I hide my face in my hands. “Shut up.” I pull a pillow to me to put my head on it. “Don’t be shy now.” He chuckles, before I even get myself fully situated I feel his lips connected to my clit.

My leg jerks from the sudden contact and his hand grabs my ankle to keep it still. He plants kisses on my sweet spot. “You’re soaking already.” He enthusiastically mutters, his tongue now diving in. I instinctively grab his hair in response. “Go- Saturo…” I moaned out.

He begins to suck at my clit, his little whimpers he let out vibrating causing even more pleasure for me. I hump my hips into his mouth as he practically makes out with my cunt.

My fingers massage into his scalp, taking ahold a handful of hair. Tugging on it as he gets faster. “Saturo, please.. Please keep going, keep going!” I beg, throwing my head back. I heard him mumble something but I couldn’t make it out.

Then I feel two digits enter my soaking, lonesome hole as his tongue plays with my bud. His fingers begin to scissor inside of me, going in and out whilst stretching me out. “Don’t stop, I’m almost there!” I squeal out, not able to say it any other way. My other hand found his hair. I attempt to bring him closer, grinding myself on his face.

“I’m almost there, i’m almost there!” I cry, tears actually brimming my eyes. He hums out loud as his fingers get faster. His head moved side to side, his nose adding extra satisfaction. I feel him try to lift his head but I push him back.

His laugh muffled as he does what I want him to do. My tummy tightens and I feel like I’m about to explode. “Oh I’m cu- cumming! I’m cumming!” I call out senselessly. My hips roll, riding out my orgasm. He pulls his head back but still fingering me, making it even more intense than there being nothing. “Did that feel good, beautiful?” His fingers stop their movement but don’t leave my pussy, his palm now laying on my clit as he comes up to kiss me.

“Taste yourself? Taste that?” He sloppily makes out with me. “Hm?”

“Mhm.” I tiredly respond, feeling slightly fucked out already and it was only the beginning. “I want you to taste how amazing you are.” He pulls his fingers that were once in my cunt up to my lips. “Suck them.” He demands, tracing his fingers around my lips before shoving them into my mouth. My tongue wraps around them and I begin to slurp up my own juices. My eyes never leave his.

His pupils dilated to where I could barely see the bright blinding blue. “What a sight.” He grins, taking his fingers away with a pop after exiting my mouth. “I need to be inside you.” He groans, he gets off the bed to shove his pants off impatiently. I observe him as my hands go to my boobs, my fingers toying with my nipples.

His dick springs out once his boxers go down with his pants, I notice the pre-cum already oozing out making the redness of his tip more prominent. I bite my lip as my mouth waters at the sight. “Like what you see?” Saturo winks, I roll my eyes. “I got so into eating you out I didn’t even notice my blindfold.” He laughs at himself, taking his blindfold off from it being around his neck. “It got some of your juices on it.” He pouts, throwing it on top of his pants. “What a messy girl.” He crawls back on the bed and in between my legs.

I look away embarrassed but he grips my jaw, making me look back at him. “I want you to watch me fuck your little pretty pussy.” He commands, letting my face go to smack my thighs open even more for him. “Just look at that.”

He takes his cock into his hand, smacking it on my clit. I jolt since I was still sensitive from the orgasm I just had. “I need you to watch, remember beautiful.” His hand goes to the back of my neck lifting me to get a better look at his thick mushroom tip entering my desperate hole.

“You’re taking too long.” I complain, wiggling down for him to fill me up.

“Oh yeah? Too needy for this cock huh?” His hand drops my neck and goes to my hip along with his other one. “Yes, please. Come on, idiot.” I frown. “Back to those mean names, beautiful? They really hurt my feelings, you know.” Then before I could spit back he thrusts forward, now fully sheathed into me. I yelp in response, grabbing onto his hands.

“I really have to dick you down senseless just to be nice to me?” He pulls back to where his cock is almost out of me. “I- Fuck you.” I spew out. “That’s what I’m about to do, beautiful.” He harshly thrusts back into me, now keeping a steady pace.

“Have anything to say now, meanie?” He huffs, squeezing my hips to bring them close to him as he’s already maliciously bullying my walls. His tip repeatedly hit that perfect g-spot in the back. All he gets in response is a dumb-ified set of moans that get knocked out from the rough hits.

Skin to skin loudly smacking. Almost sounding like it’s echoing in this hotel room.

I feel stupid with how I couldn’t respond to him. My hands finding their way to his sides, clawing at them from how intense everything feels.

“I- I’m clo-se! Harder!” I wrap my legs around his waist.

I close my eyes, taking in the feeling that’s in my stomach once again but before I get there I feel emptiness in my core. My eyes shoot open. “Wha- Why’d you do that?” I angrily ask him. He laughs, picking me up. “Turn around.” He does a little spin with his finger. I get onto my knees, my ass touching the heels of my feet.

“Say please.” I cross my arms, not liking the way he just talked to me. “Beautiful if you want to feel that orgasm, do as said.” He glances to the spot in the bed of where he wants me. “Say please first.” I argue with him. “Don’t make me force you now.” He pouts, but when I don’t move he sighs.

Seconds later his hands grab my waist, moving where I was to then shove my torso down leaving my ass in the air. His hand travels to my head, pushing it even further into the sheets as his dick re-enters my pussy. I let out a relieved moan.

It doesn’t last long when he begins pounding into me. His hand still pushing my face into the bed, his other grabbing my ass, playing with it like it was a fun toy.

My hand goes down to my clit, rubbing it so I can feel my orgasm. “Saturooo, faster.” I plead. “Faster? He repeats, I nod my head. “I need your words!” He sings.

“Fuck me faster!” I yell out, bringing my ass to meet his pelvis. He lets go of my head and smacks my ass, grabbing onto my hips to fuck me at an unfathomable pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I grip onto the sheet as I also rub my clit. “Almost there?”

“Mhm, keep going.” I fuck my ass back to meet him once again. He mutters out profanities, his thrusts getting sloppier. “I’m close to.” He tells me.

“Move your hand.” He swats my hand that was attached to my clit to replace it with his own getting me closer. “Fuck!” I cry out, arching my back when I feel all the little butterflies in my stomach erupt wildly. I hear my pussy squelch loudly. “Where do you want my cum?” He grunts, as his takes his fingers back from my clit. His dick still pumping in and out of me. “Inside,” I murmur, tucking my thighs together making it tighter for him. “Shit.” He whimpers.

“I’ll give it all to you.” He humps into me at a quick pace once again. I cry out, feeling another orgasm coming. “Gonna fill this pussy to the brim.”

“You want that don’t you? You want Saturo Gojo’s cum filled deep inside that cunt.” He says, never relenting. “I wa-want it, give it to mee~”

“Yeah, here, here ohmygoddd~” His hips connect to my ass, grabbing my hips to pull me as close as possible so his load travels deep inside me. I wiggle my hips to feel his cock massage around my walls. “Fuck, beautiful…” He hovers over me, grabbing my neck to pull me in for a messy kiss before slowly slipping out of me.

I feel a mixture of our cum spilling out of my cunt. He pulls away to watch it. I turn my head to see his expression. He then takes the cum and pushes it back into my hole.

I lay my legs down so he can’t see it anymore. “Awe, got shy again?” He giggles, wiping some of the cum onto my ass. “You’re so weird.” I mumble into the bed, feeling my eyes get heavy. “Let me clean you up before you go to sleep, [Name].” He gets up off of the bed. I hear him in the bathroom and the sink water turns on for a few moments and then he comes back. “Lift your hips, beautiful.” He taps my ass. I lay there for a moment wondering if I should be a smart ass or not but he beats me to it when he says “please.”

I smirk, doing as he told me to and he cleans the cum up with a wet rag before cleaning himself and throwing the cum rag on the ground. I flinch in disgust.

I tiredly sit up as he puts his boxers back on before laying down on the bed. I lay on top of him, pulling the covers over us. “Not even going to get dressed in those pink panties?” He says coyly. “Shhh.” I put my finger to his lips, I feel him kiss it as I doze off.

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monster-disaster · 5 months ago

Note

A) have access to a facility with an unlimited budget and staffed with the most highly trained scientists, geneticists, surgeons, and wizards ( yes wizards as this is a theoretical fantasy) that can change or augment your body in any way you can imagine.( Temporarily or permanently)

B) the same type of facility similarly staffed and equipped, but they can engineer or clone any type of being(s) or creatures(s) you can imagine with the mental instincts to fulfill your deepest desires.

lizardman!Rask x human!Reader Warning: tease but no smut

A/N: My answer is B) and I will bring the smutty second part tomorrow under your other request. :)

"I… I did something." Rask’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in the stillness of your office.

The lizardman stands awkwardly just inside the door, his hulking frame still wrapped in a lab coat. Underneath, his crispy white shirt is buttoned all the way up to his thick neck.

"What did you do?" you ask him, eyes scanning his meek posture; hunched shoulders, head tilted downward, his yellow eyes avoiding yours as they stare at the hard metal floor.

Rask hesitates, his claws fidgeting with the edges of his coat. "I… I tried the cloning machine."

Your brow furrows further. "So?" you ask, trying to make sense of his guilt. "We use it all the time."

"No." He shakes his head sharply, his yellow eyes flicking up for the briefest of moments before dropping again. "I mean, yes, but… I used it on myself."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What?" You lean forward in your chair, hoping that you misheard him, but the way Rask shrinks further into himself confirms your fears.

"But why?"

"I was curious," he admits, wincing at his own flimsy excuse.

"Rask," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers.

"I know," he says quickly. "I was stupid. I shouldn’t have-"

"Where is your… clone now?" you interrupt. His tail flicks behind him at the sharp edge of your voice.

"In one of the cells," the male replies. "I didn’t know what to do with him."

"You should have thought of that before you tried something so reckless. We work by strict protocols, Rask. How am I supposed to explain to the board that one of my employees used himself as a test subject?"

"I’m sorry."

You let out a long breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. What’s done is done. You can’t undo his actions, and while his apology won’t fix the situation, there’s no point in berating him further. You’ve worked in this facility long enough to know that curiosity often walks hand in hand with chaos. Scientists push boundaries, sometimes too far. It’s the nature of this place.

You stand, closing your laptop with a click. "Go home, Rask. And I want a detailed report about your… experience on my desk first thing tomorrow."

His head snaps up, yellow eyes wide with worry. "Will you fire me?"

Shaking your head, you reply; "No, Rask. You’re a good worker, and you’ve proven yourself time and again. But this... this can’t happen again. I’ll figure something out."

Relief flickers across his face, though his tail continues to swish nervously behind him. "Thank you, boss."

You walk him out of your office, closing the door behind you. "Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. And make sure that report is ready."

"Yes, boss," Rask repeats, nodding earnestly.

As you watch him walk away, his shoulders still hunched, you can’t help but shake your head. This job was never going to be easy, not with the kinds of minds you worked with, and now, you had Rask's clone to deal with.

The building is almost empty. Most of the staff have already clocked out, leaving only the guards for the night. The long corridors stretch before you, their silence broken only by the soft scrape of your shoes against the floor. Above you, dimmed fluorescent lights flicker occasionally, following you up to the upper floor, where long rows of cells stretch out before you. From behind the thick metal doors, you can hear the creatures stirring. Some shuffle restlessly, the faint sound of claws scraping against walls or floors reaching your ears. Their growls and snarls are low and guttural, but muffled by the walls of the cells. You catch glimpses of them through the small, reinforced windows set into the doors, sharp eyes watching, shapes shifting in the shadows.

The cell of Rask’s clone lies at the very end of the long, dimly lit row. Through the narrow window, a pair of sharp yellow eyes meet yours, the slit pupils unblinking and focused. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of his door. His posture is unnervingly still, almost statuesque, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unsure of what to do next. What Rask did was reckless, a line no one had seriously thought to cross. And now, you’re face-to-face with the fallout; a creature that is, in every way, Rask and yet undeniably someone else.

How are you supposed to handle this? How can you possibly sweep something like this under the rug?

Damn it, Rask.

You exhale slowly as you reach for the security pad beside the door. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you punch in the code. The soft beeps echo faintly down the hall, followed by a sharp hiss as the door unlocks. Your hand lingers on the handle, your grip tightening as hesitation creeps in. This isn’t a decision you should take lightly. You know better than to step into a confined space with an unknown entity, especially one born of such uncharted science, but as your mind races with all the ways this could go wrong, you push the door open and step inside.

He’s still watching you, his body eerily motionless save for the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest. His yellow eyes track your every move as you carefully step further inside while the door seals shut with another hiss.

Every thought you had about safety, protocol, and caution evaporates as you take in the figure before you. He is Rask, but he isn’t. The shade of his scales is identical, a familiar blend of muted greens, catching the dim light in the same way you’ve seen a hundred times before. His broad shoulders, the line of his jaw, even the way his tail hangs behind him. It’s all unmistakably Rask. And yet, there’s something else. Something off. It’s not just the uncanny stillness or the way his eyes seem to pierce through you. It’s something deeper, something that sets your instincts on edge.

And he is naked.

Your gaze flickers downward before you can stop yourself. His lean, muscular form is undeniably Rask’s, only now seen in a way you never have before. Every ridge, every scale, every taut line of his body is familiar, yet it feels foreign. That dissonance gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you force your eyes upward, meeting his sharp yellow gaze again. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift to cover himself, and shows no sign of embarrassment or awareness of his nudity. Instead, he simply stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost predatory.

"Do you understand me?" Your voice comes out steady despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

For a long moment, the clone says nothing. His eyes remain locked on yours, unblinking, unyielding. Then, slowly, he tilts his head. "Yes," he finally replies, carrying the same cadence as Rask’s but with a subtle, unnerving edge.

You nod, a small motion that feels heavier than it should. "Good." You lick your lips, suddenly aware of how dry they’ve become. "Do you know why you are here?"

His gaze slides over you, unhurried and deliberate, lingering in places it shouldn’t. It sends a ripple down your spine.

"Yes," he says again, his tone measured.

You exhale, nodding as though to convince yourself that things are still under control.

Cloning is still new and its outcomes are unpredictable. It’s why the facility operates in secrecy, why every precaution is taken to avoid the public eye. Clones may appear identical to their originals, but there are always differences. Some emerge feral, untamed and violent, while others manifest traits that were either latent or entirely unexpected in their originators.

But Rask’s clone…

At least he seems to understand you. His speech is coherent, his demeanor calm, calmer than you anticipated, given the circumstances. Yet that knowledge brings you no comfort, only questions.

What are you supposed to do with him? What can you do?

"Are you here to mate?"

The sudden question shatters the momentary silence, making your breath hitch and your eyes widen. You snap out of your thoughts, staring at the lizardman who stands barely a few inches taller than you.

"What?" The word escapes your lips in a rush, half disbelief, half reflex.

"I can feel your desire."

Your mouth opens, but words fail you for a moment. "No, I-" Whatever you wanted to say dies on your tongue when your gaze falters, and you see it: his hard cock emerging from its sheath. Heat blooms beneath your skin as you force yourself to look away.

"Do you want my original?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

"No," you snap as if it could get back the control into your hands.

The slits of his pupils narrow as he studies you, his unblinking gaze like a predator locking onto its prey. "You are lying," he says with unnerving certainty. "You find him attractive… and you find me attractive too."

Your breath catches in your throat, and by the time you force yourself to exhale, he’s already in front of you. You didn’t even register the space between you closing, but now his presence looms, overwhelming and steady. The scales of his chest glint faintly under the dim light. His scent, metal and earth, curls around your senses, making it impossible to focus.

"I’m not lying," you manage, though your voice is quieter than you intended.

"You feel one thing… and say another."

You step back instinctively, but your back hits the cool wall of the cell.

"You can’t hide from me," he says, his breath warm as it brushes against your skin. "I can feel it."

"We have more important matters than-" You try to deflect, the words tumbling hastily from your lips, but before you can finish, they falter into a sharp inhale. His head dips, and you feel him at the crook of your neck. The heat of his proximity is dizzying, but it’s the sudden, wet flick of his tongue against your pulse that sends a shiver rippling through your entire body. You gasp, your breath catching as the sensation floods your senses. His tongue glides over the sensitive skin, deliberate and unhurried, as if he’s savoring every beat of your racing heart.

"You’re thrumming," he murmurs against your neck.

"You need to stop," you whisper.

"Do I?" he asks, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense and unwavering. "Or is that another lie?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and challenging, as you struggle to steady your breath.

There’s a choice to make, and despite how obvious it seems, the words refuse to form. Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

You shouldn’t.

He is a clone. A being created from the mind and body of someone you trust. Someone you work with. Someone you’d even call a friend. But he’s not Rask. Not entirely. Yet, he looks like him, every detail painstakingly identical. The same sharp yellow eyes, the same strong jawline, the same deep voice that carries a hint of warmth and familiarity. But this clone is different. Where Rask is often a whirlwind of restless energy, his thoughts spilling out in frantic tangents, this version is steady. Calculating. Confident.

"Another lie." Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, yet it cuts through the charged air between you.

You can’t deny it. The ache and curiosity you feel are too overwhelming, too raw to deny.

A slow, confident smile curls on the corner of his lips, one you could never see on Rask's face. And his hand settles on your hips like Rask's never would. You can feel his claw grazing over your skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"You don’t need to fight it," he says. "I'm here to fulfill your desires." His breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck. It’s warm, teasing, and far too intimate.

The heat of his body radiates against yours, and before you can react, his thigh presses firmly between your legs. The hard curve of his muscle nudges you through the thick fabric of your jeans just enough to make your breath catch. He moves slowly. He doesn’t rush. Every shift of his body, every subtle press of his touch is deliberate as if he’s testing you, learning you. His sharp pupils narrow, catching every flicker of your reaction, and a self-assured smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m not him, but I can give you what you’ve been denying yourself." The words cut through your hesitation, leaving you exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for. Your hands press against the cool wall behind you as if it could somehow anchor you, but his presence is everywhere, drawing you in despite yourself.

"I can give you what my original can't."

The words are bold, unapologetic, and hit far too close to home.

How does he know? You are sure Rask doesn’t. You’ve never said anything, never let even a hint slip about your silly little crush or the urge to climb him every time he rambles on about something you don't even understand.

"N-not here," you stammer, your voice trembling as the burn in your core spreads, impossible to ignore.

His movements stop, and you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. He is trying not to smile, but his smug satisfaction is undeniable.

"Will you take me out of here?"

It’s a crazy idea.

It’s reckless, absurd, dangerous.

You shouldn’t.

"Yes."

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster fucker #terat0philliac #sweet asks #lizardman x reader #lizardman x human #monster love #monster kink #terato #monsterfucker

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sailorstar9 · 11 months ago

Text

Running Into The Ex-girlfriend At The School Reunion

“Hyoma...” Shika Sotomi, Chigiri's girlfriend for three months, sang. “Let's go together. Aw man, we're gonna be in different classes in 3rd Year. I'm so sad.”

“We're in the same school.” Chigiri reminded, the couple was walking to the Rajitsu Tech soccer club. “We can see each other any time.��

“That's not what I'm trying to say.” Shika pouted. “You're the school's top player, you're gonna go pro when you're older.”

“Sorry, Hyoma.” Shika called out after school some time later. “I promised to hang with a friend today. I can't go home with you.”

“Got it.” Chigiri waved her apologies off and headed off for soccer practice.

“Sorry, I've got a new boyfriend.” Shika called Chigiri out shortly after he tore his ASL. “Let's break up.”

“Boyfriend?” the redhead was taken aback. “You 'have' one, even though we haven't even broken up?”

“Keisuke-kun asked me to go out with me yesterday.” Shika shrugged. “I didn't wanna let him get away because he's got more potential than you. Anyway, now that you're injured, I have no use for you anymore.”

Time passes, in the Manshine City soccer team hostel...

25-year-old Chigiri received an email on his personal laptop, an invitation to the upcoming high school reunion.

After much consideration and discussion with the older Wanima twin, he accepted the invitation.

On the day of the school reunion...

“Chigiri, I didn't think you'll come to things like this, so I'm surprised.” one of Chigiri's former female classmates greeted. “Long time.”

“Listen and be shocked.” Wanima Junichi piped in. “Both Chigiri and myself are players in the Manshine City soccer team.”

“That's amazing.” the women gushed. “I knew you two were great at soccer and I thought you'd become something great.”

“So, are you single now?” one of the braver women pressed. “I'm currently looking for a boyfriend.”

“I also broke up with my boyfriend last year.” another woman added. “Are you free tonight?”

“Hyoma!” Shika called out and everyone turned around.

“I didn't see Sotomi's name on the invite list.” Junichi was confused as everyone took in Shika's rather unstylish outfit.

“I came to see you.” Shika spoke. “I want to talk.”

“We can talk here.” Chigiri stood his ground.

“That's okay.” Shika stammered. “That's great. You're a professional soccer player? You were always great at soccer.”

“How do you know that?” Chigiri asked.

“Junichi-san is always in contact with his younger brother, so I confirmed it with Keisuke-kun." Shika answered. "Hyoma, let's start over.”

“What?” Chigiri echoed in disbelief. “Now, with me? You were the one who said Wanima Keisuke had more potential than me.”

“Sorry, I was wrong.” Shika wailed. “I learned that it means nothing to just have potential in high school.”

“So, it's all about money?” the other women realized that it was all about.

“I didn't say that.” Shika protested.

“Didn't your last boyfriend see you only as an ATM? He made you spend money on him and then tossed you away after he drained you dry and leaving you with all his debt.” a female classmate explained. “Money is indeed important, but it's a little too good to be true to change your mind about a person you made fun of right after they make money.”

“You were saying that?” Junichi snapped. “Now you want to get back together because you have no money. It's too coincidental.” he moved the entire party to another table. “Shika still hasn't gone home yet.” he noticed the lone Shika drinking in the corner. “She hasn't given up on you yet.”

“I'm going to the restroom.” Chigiri excused himself.

“Hyoma.” Shika cornered the speedster outside the men's toilet. “You were in front of everyone else, so you couldn't say how you really felt, right?” she snuggled up to Chigiri. “I know you well. That's why I wanted to talk alone. You still like me, right? I'll go out with you. You've always been relaxed, so your feelings aren't obvious.” she continued, despite Chigiri slapping her off him. “But in high school, I felt that you liked me. You just can't express how you feel, right? It's okay. I get you.”

“I struggle to understand why you think I still like you.” Chigiri retorted. “First of all...”

“Hyo-kun.” F/N called out, a two-year-old toddler in her arms.

“You just came?” Chigiri walked over. “How did you know I was here?”

“Keiichi woke up from his jet-lag and started wailing for his daddy.” F/N replied. “Wanima-kun told me you were in the restroom. And that Satomi-san had chased after you.”

“Hyoma?” Shika splattered, seeing Chigiri's arm around F/N's waist

“I'm already married to F/N.” Chigiri explained. “And as you can see, we have a son.”

“What?” Shika exclaimed. “What's so good about that plain wallflower? I'm... my skin is a little dry right now, but if I go back to my normal lifestyle and work on myself, I'm beautiful. I'm so much better than her.”

“You still talk like that.” Chigiri sighed. “Before she went for that Germany scholarship after I tore my ASL, she made me a senbazuru; there's no way you can beat F/N. She wrote an encouraging quote in each and every origami paper. Also, I don't choose people based on looks. When we were going out, I liked you because you were honest. But, you changed. Those who can only look at people's qualifications will attract the same type. You brought this upon yourself. We're leaving.”

“So cute...” returning the reunion table, all the women cooed over Keiichi. “I knew F/N had all of us beat when she left that senbazuru to Chigiri.”

#bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri x you #chigiri x cheater!female oc #Wanima Keisuke x female oc

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seokizaten · 16 days ago

Text

The Gold He Holds [Zhongli] —⋆｡°✩

Chapter 1 [previous] [next]

Series Introduction: How shameful it is to be a mortal, falling in love with an Archon who had eyes for someone even before you were born?

Shi Y/N, the young lady who lives with her adoptive mother at Liyue Harbor is one of the most respected history enthusiasts in their class during her time at the Akademiya. Reaching the age of twenty, she swore to approach the knowledgeable man of history to uncover her past.

However, even before her said research, she had eyes on the man for the longest time. That mysterious, intelligent, and good looking man from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is how most of the people described him.

Everyone knows him as that man who takes the contracts seriously. However, she knows no one who ever broke the deal so she knows nothing about the consequences at all. Either way, she is not the one to run away from responsibility of such anyways.

“I am aware that this potential contract of ours wouldn’t exactly give me the answers I needed, but I would be able to receive at least a fragment from the past.” Y/N explains, in front of the man.

Being asked to speak more of the proposed contract, she was asked to sit by the other side of Zhongli’s table. “If I may ask, what exactly is your motive in this research of yours?”

“I would like to write about my bloodline’s history like I mentioned, for those in my future generations to hear about. Technically just a hobby of mine, sure, but I see no faulty side of this activity.” Y/N shrugs. Zhongli’s mind is fighting thoughts against one another— this lady speaks a lot with confidence considering the fact that she is a historian, and that’s an indication that she knows a lot of things. Why does it seem like she is missing a lot of things?

“I have… no idea about my origin. My mother, who adopted me, told me that I was left by her doorstep twenty years ago. Fortunately, she is a woman of heart. She gave me whatever I must have, including the privilege of education, something I’d love to have in every universe.” Y/N smiled as she spoke more. “Due to that reason, I uhm, gained an interest with my heritage. I don’t know where I should point the pin, actually.”

Zhongli figured it out, “Then why wouldn’t a very educated lady like you think about linking yourself to your parents instead of someone from thousands of years ago?” He asked and that sent her into a state of shock.

“I–uhh…”

“You’re a fraud, aren’t you? Are you sent by someone who has daggers pointed at me?” Zhongli asked again, and Y/N immediately got offended.

“E-Excuse me?!” She asked. How can such— highly respected man accuse someone out of nowhere? “Why would you say that? I am presenting myself here as a historian with a personal interest, I have no ill intentions. Besides, what would someone gain from you by sending someone like me?”

Zhongli glared at her, surely in his long life, he would know exactly when something is odd with someone. For some reason, this lady is showing hints of that but he can’t exactly state why. She seems like a genuine young lady who just wanted to know about her past.

“Then respond to the first question.” Zhongli said, intimidating her. “And how do you know that a stranger to you, is acquainted with the God of Dust?”

It seems like Zhongli really is an intimidating man, even before these questions. That’s why Y/N decided to show up with confidence in order to somehow trick him into thinking that she knows what she’s doing. She does, of course, it’s just that she’s missing a lot of information yet she proposed a contract instantly.

Y/N sighed for a moment. “Alright, I lied.” She admits. “I have no evidence that the man is my long lost relative. I was reading Liyue’s history from a book and eventually felt a spiritual connection upon reading his name— intuition, if I may say. It felt like I’ve met that name before, that’s why I immediately thought that he is somehow my ancestor.”

Zhongli held his forehead before sighing. So that’s the reason why he’s unsettled, she lacks proper information and she’s just relying on her intuition? He must’ve overreacted on things this time, accusing her of very odd things. Besides, who would even be angry with him that they’d send this woman?

“This— this sent me into a spiral of doubts and confusion, my apologies.” He said. It seems like her proposed contract is so odd at first and— surprising to him that it gave him headaches. “So, your intention is to find out whether this man is related to you at some sort?”

Y/N immediately nodded in response. “Uh-huh. He is one of those who lived under the Guili Assembly, leading me into an assumption that he is acquainted with Guizhong.”

Zhongli hummed in response. “And how is this contract going to happen, if I may ask?” He asked another question.

“I would like to request at least two months of you being my companion and my guide, and I’d pay you mora in return.” She said,

“I have no need for your mora.” Zhongli briefly said and stood up. “Do you have an interest in gardening?”

That’s such a random question. “I do, why do you ask?”

Zhongli handed her a small pouch, which she immediately opened, revealing a rather unique seed. “Since our contract deals with interest and reliving the history, I would like you to make a long forgotten variant of glaze lily come back to life.”

Y/N then made a face on that. “Are you serious, Zhongli?”

“I mentally asked the same question when I heard your proposal.” He sarcastically said, making Y/N look at him angrily. “We both have our spiritual bonds within our benefits in the contract, if I may say. Although, a favour so in depth from me shouldn’t need a story behind it.”

Oh. So this seed must be a very important flower from Zhongli’s past that he remarks it as that spiritually relevant, like what she felt from the name from the history book she read a few weeks ago.

“I am eager to know the story behind this seed, I apologize in advance.” Y/N said.

“It is called Yongheng, which means eternity. But like I said, the story behind it has no relevance to why I am asking you to give it a try.” Zhongli said, but Y/N was trying to hold her laughter. “Is there something funny about what I said?”

Y/N cleared her throat in an instant. “I’m sorry, I just find it odd that such is called eternity yet it is long forgotten.” Zhongli just stared at her in disbelief. “Well… maybe it is eternity for a reason then.”

Zhongli sighed, looking away. “Alright, then. Since you’ve already arranged papers, I’d be writing about our contract.” He said and sat back down, analyzing the paper provided by Y/N.

Y/N excitedly pulled out another page. “And this one is a copy, to make things sure of course.” She handed the paper out with the widest smile ever.

As Zhongli starts writing, she can’t help but think about her future interactions with the said man. Who knew that approaching the man you like would be this easy? She is mentally thanking the Geo Archon for answering all her prayers right now with the widest grin on her face.

Somehow, she noticed a rather odd thing back then. As someone who worships the Archon, she visits the statue a lot to pray and lend her offerings. Looking up at the Geo Archon, he somehow resembles Zhongli.

Quite a funny thought, she used to say. But as time clocks out, she just came up with the idea that maybe he is that gifted of a man to the point that the Archon painted himself on him. What a strange thought, well, she is a woman who thinks a lot.

“Alright then, I will be needing your signature.” Zhongli said, handing her the papers. She didn’t really read what’s written as she is already informed of what they spoke about, she just directly signed and handed him back one of the two copies. “Then that’s settled, two months of contract. If we may discuss further about what lies under the papers, feel free to reach out to me.”

Y/N paused for a moment… So that’s it? She finally successfully recruited Zhongli to assist her in her little hobby?

Zhongli was about to stand up, but she spoke. “H-Hold on, Zhongli. How would we begin my research then?”

He gave her an odd look, hinting that she should be the one to know where to begin. But somehow, he realized that this is a favour asked by her. “We can begin right away, show me what you’ve found so far.”

Of course, as someone who studies a lot, Y/N has her own place dedicated for workspace right above her childhood home. Her mother usually stays indoors to read as well, making them share the same interest.

Y/N brought Zhongli to her lounge, his eyes began wandering in an instant. Loads of shelves only filled with books, about three desks with many papers and ornaments that resemble relevant history, a huge chalkboard behind one of the desks with several written notes, and a cork board by the only wall visible.

“I apologize for the mess, I haven’t been able to clean my place since I started this research.” Y/N said, grabbing some documents from a shelf.

It seems like she spends a lot of her time studying, nothing shows a different hobby in this room. Zhongli immediately approached the chalkboard, analyzing what’s written there. Upon reaching a certain sentence, he immediately erased it.

“Z-Zhongli, don’t do that.” Y/N said, shocked that the man tampered with her studies.

He did not respond, he just grabbed a chalk and began writing. Is he correcting her data collected? That’s how confident he is with his knowledge? “Morax defeated several gods during the Archon war, relocating his people upon building the Liyue Harbor. This information of yours is false.” He said, then read another statement.

Y/N stared at the man who’s currently playing puzzles with her studies.

“Wrong.” He said, erasing the written information again and grabbing the chalk. “Those statues around Liyue are mortals who plead to Rex Lapis to be turned into stone, they weren’t cursed by the Archon.” He says, rewriting the information written by her. “You worship Rex Lapis like a novelist going through the books, but you have false information.”

Y/N gave him an offended look, “Are you sure? I’ve read so many books and all the sources gave me the same answer.”

Zhongli dusted the chalk off his gloves. “I am sure.” He said, walking past her to check her cork board next. “I assume this is your findings about that man?”

Y/N hummed in response, walking towards him and began explaining each and every segment. “His name is Zhang Yuchen, he disappeared a few months during Rex Lapis’ establishment of Liyue Harbor.”

Zhongli felt a shock inside him in an instant… “Zhang… Yuchen?” He asked and Y/N immediately looked at him in excitement. “The man you’re looking for is Zhang Yuchen?” He asked.

“Yes, have you ever heard of him somewhere in your studies?” Y/N asked, and Zhongli took his time to think about this man.

“He-” He paused. “He is indeed acquainted with Guizhong like you stated.” Zhongli said and eyed another piece of information.

“So you know him!” Y/N excitedly said. “So, what do you know about him?”

“I have no specific information, to be honest.” He paused. “I just find the name familiar as someone who knows a lot about the Guili Assembly. He is indeed one of those who lived under the establishment before the Archon war.”

Y/N looked at him in amazement. “Zhongli, you are very impressive! You remember names upon just reading them?” She excitedly asked. “I am encountering difficulties with that, I always have to write them down.”

She immediately sat down and grabbed a paper, writing the information Zhongli stated, confirming that some of her theories are correct. She is smiling widely, she is right about making a contract with a certain man.

While Zhongli analyzed the information on the board, he noticed a tiny piece of paper by the corner of it. It is an illustration of the Geo Archon’s statue, which he assumed was made by her. That is the first hobby outside history studying he saw in this room.

Darting his eyes elsewhere, he noticed that Rex Lapis is just everywhere. A small statue of him, various books about him, more illustrations, and basically just everything that resembles him.

“Y/N, are you at that level of being religious?” He randomly asked. “You seemed to be very fascinated by Rex Lapis.”

Y/N nervously looked at him— those obviously weren't all about Rex Lapis, but Zhongli. Just like what she thought, Zhongli resembles the figure of Rex Lapis in every way. The historical posters of Rex Lapis look a lot like him, they have the same build and hair, making her keep them for some reason.

Of course, Y/N isn’t that much of religious. She sees Rex Lapis as a respectable person, an Archon who wrote their history and worshipping him is a sign of respect to her as someone who studies history.

“Uhm, what do you mean by that level?” She asked and Zhongli just shrugged it off, analyzing her board once again. “I have high respect for our Geo Archon, that’s why. I believe that showing that would be best in worshipping him. What do you think of Rex lapis, Zhongli?”

Zhongli paused for a moment. “A remarkable Archon who protected his people, indeed.” He stated in a low voice.

Y/N smiled at that. “Indeed! I however have no clue whether your corrections on my previous studies are correct since you have no evidence of them, but they surely made Rex Lapis sound even greater.” She said, standing up and placing the paper on the cork board. “There we go, my theories are now fully backed up by the great Zhongli. I trust that.”

Zhongli looked at her, she had her hands on her hips confidently as she looked at the board. He immediately sighed, shaking his head.

“Zhongli?” She called. “You mentioned that you know a lot about Guizhong, and the Guili Assembly in general, didn’t you?”

He hummed in response.

“Since you’ve confirmed that our target is somehow related to her, I think it will be very interesting to dig deeper in that topic, don’t you think so too?” She asked and Zhongli agreed. “Great! Let’s get seated.” She immediately headed to her seat, offering the one in front of her for Zhongli.

Once they sat, she immediately grabbed a massive book, and a piece of paper. “I mentioned that Rex Lapis is related to this research because he is one of those known to have the greatest bond with the God of Dust.”

Zhongli hummed, and nodded.

“Since you know a lot about both Rex Lapis and Guizhong, could you tell me more about it I am unsure about my whole studies in those topics now that I saw how you confidently corrected them.” Y/N chuckled,

Although, nothing seems to be making him laugh with her. It seems like he is troubled by something but he isn’t choosing to speak about it.

“Zhongli?” She called out and he immediately looked at her. “Are you alright?”

He exhaled loudly, “Pardon me, I just have a… memory entrapped with the name you mentioned. Anyways, I’d be willing to share my knowledge of those topics.”

However, Y/N doesn’t seem to be interested in proceeding unless she is certain that her partner in this project is alright. “Which name? I only mentioned three; Rex Lapis, Yuchen Zhang, and Guizhong.”

Zhongli did not respond and just grabbed the paper, starting with his writing. It seems like he is avoiding something, but Y/N didn’t want to poke in his personal life. She just spoke to the man for the first time, she didn’t want to leave a bad impression.

She worked hard to gather this much courage to be this near to him, she must be careful not to shatter all of that. She is lucky that she had an interest in this person she started a research for, she had an opportunity to have an interaction with Zhongli.

“Haha! I’m sorry for asking! However, we’re now basically friends so I think it’s alright for me to say that you can always say something that’s bothering you.” Y/N said, trying to ease the awkward silence between them.

“Thank you for viewing me as a friend. However, I have no plans to be more than acquainted with you, I’m sorry.” He directly rejected her statement in an instant without looking at her. That immediately sent her into an even more awkward situation.

Her face went red upon hearing his voice. “Well— we’re friends, whether you like it or not.” She joked and Zhongli immediately gave her the look of venom, making her laugh awkwardly.

Well, Hu Tao surely lied to her about Zhongli. She said that Zhongli is a very open man in friendship with people, why is he rejecting her? Now, she’s fated to think that Zhongli and her would surely part ways one day.

After all, contracts don't always guarantee a friendship unlike the previous ones she had with others around Liyue. A connection, maybe. But not everyone is on the same level of her friendliness so she must understand that. After all, one of her goals was to have the opportunity to make her name known to the man.

Like everyone said, he is the man who doesn’t forget. There’s no catch for her to give it a try, at least, right?

“Alright, friend. What did you write about?” She asked, still nagging him about the friendship she wanted. Zhongli just sighed and handed her the paper, “Huh? What is this you wrote?”

“It is the location we’re heading tomorrow morning, and I recommend you not to carry any unseriousness with you.” Zhongli said and stood up.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” She asked and Zhongli hummed in response. “Hold on, I want you to have this.” She said and handed Zhongli a charm with an engraved geo symbol on it.

“What is this, if I may ask?” He asked.

“A fragment of my new mechanism.” She stated and showed another pair that’s tied on her necklace. She shook it with a smile, hearing a bell inside. “See? Did you hear that? Isn’t that very interesting?”

Zhongli sighs. “What is the purpose of me having this?” He asked, the charm laying flat on his hand.

Y/N immediately tied it on his coat. “Since we’re going to be friends for two months, contact is most relevant.” She explained and pressed the stone, making Zhongli’s pair lit up. “See? Isn’t that amazing? We can use this for communication if we couldn’t be vocal, or maybe just a way to announce something if we’re far from one another.”

Zhongli did not respond and just looked at the charm on his chest.

Y/N immediately sensed the awkward sensation in between them. “Ah, haha! Worry not, if you do not like them, you can return them after our project.” She said with an awkward laugh. “Alright, I will send you off now.”

She accompanied him outdoors and began waving like a happy woman. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” She bid her goodbye, watching his back figure walk away from her place.

Y/N spent her afternoon reading a book about the seed Zhongli gave her. “Yongheng is such a complex plant.” She sighed, standing up by her window. Her book is open by the desk underneath, and a pot of healthy soil is by her window.

She plans to nurse it before planting it outdoors, next to the nearest statue of Rex Lapis, near the Luhua Pool for an even better soil quality. She placed her chin on her palm, leaning on the desk below the window while standing up.

Why does Zhongli want this to go back anyways? Surely, they’ve been gone long ago. Everyone in Liyue probably has no idea about its existence. She sighed, putting the seed in the pot and burying it with the healthy soil she collected.

Will this even grow in two months? And only one seed means only one trial in this experiment. What would happen if she failed to make it grow like Zhongli asked? What will be her consequence for violating their contract?

“I’ll take care of you, Yongheng.” She said upon watering it.

Also, something just came out of her mind… Did she leave a very bad impression on Zhongli earlier? It seems like he is someone difficult to be close with, unlike what Hu Tao told her.

Zhongli on the other side reached his place, it’s just near the Wangsheng Parlor. He immediately sat down and removed the charm given by the lady. He placed it on the table and stared at it.

Strange creation, he thought.

He then opened a small compartment by his deck, getting a small bag and closing it after. He immediately removed the object off the bag and placed it next to the charm given by Y/N.

It is identical, same figure, same style. However, the one he kept is very old. How can a human like Y/N have such a thing that’s identical to what he had from ancient times? He sighed upon thinking, is this some sort of organization that’s still active to this day?

But that seems to be impossible, he handled hundreds of generations in thousands of years, there is no way he missed this kind of charm. For the first time in almost 4,000 years, he saw this stone again, but it looks good as new.

“Guizhong…” He whispered under his breath. “Why do you still linger?”

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This is a fanfiction based on Genshin Impact’s Zhongli, all made with my imagination. Please do not copy, translate, or repost to another platform without my permission!! —⋆｡°✩ Thank you so much!!

#genshin impact #fanfic #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #rex lapis #genshin morax #genshin liyue #liyue #genshin fanfic #geo archon #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n

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