#spirit x ing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astonmartinii · 1 month ago

Text

day four: rock(ette)ing around the christmas tree

pairing: pierre gasly x fem rockette reader

high kicks this, high kicks that, pierre is ready to kick off because his job is getting in the way of his festive wag duties

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 238,044 others

yourusername: back in the concrete jungle wet dream tomato for another round of rockette duty !!!

view all comments

user1: how does it feel to live my dream

user2: its not fair that 1. she’s a literal rockette 2. looks like that and 3. is with a whole ass f1 driver ???

user3: everyone saying that she’s lucky to be with him but have we considered that he’s massively batting above his league?

user4: real …. i hope their babies have her hairline

pierregasly: HUH???

yukitsunoda0511: i make sure to remind him everyday 🫶🏻

user5: obsessed with yuki’s need to humble pierre all the time

yukitsunoda0511: he bagged a queen and has made it everyone else’s problem since

yourusername: can you blame him?

pierregasly: don’t answer that yuki

charles_leclerc: please please please come back right now this whiny french man won’t shut up

yourusername: … it’s my job

charles_leclerc: well i’d also argue that wrangling this oversized puppy with attachment issues is also your job

yourusername: no it’s my passion! there’s a difference

pierregasly: seeeeeee !!!! i am loved :(

yourusername: you are! but please cool it on the texts, i got so many going through the TSA that they thought i had a vibrator in my carry on 😭

pierregasly: WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: babe can we not read?

pierregasly: oh! lol i was ready to fight the world of battery operated sex toys

estebanocon: you need help

pierregasly: LEAVE ME ALONE

user6: smile guys i think we’re in the original

user7: bro is crashing out

user8: tbf i’d give my left ball to have a chance with y/n

pierregasly: i will castrate you for free if you even think about her!

yourusername: so romantic <3

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 524,087 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: engine failures got me missing my girl :(

view all comments

user10: my one dream this christmas is to get a man this in love with me

user11: really waiting for my grapes to kick in

user12: any second now i swear...

yourusername: mine took three years to come true so hang on

pierregasly: as if i wasn't manifesting you

yukitsunoda0511: bro retired but still hasn't caused any damage this year damn

pierregasly: told them to give me the projected damages for the season as a bonus so i could treat my girl

yukitsunoda0511: ... and nothing for the guy who is actually at all of the races ???

pierregasly: that is your job?

yukitsunoda0511: and i just comfort you after the races for the love of the game?

pierregasly: yes?

yukitsunoda0511: well it looks like i'll be looking for a new boyfriend this christmas

yourusername: what the hell, sure

user13: y/n just giving up against yukierre

yourusername: sometimes you gotta just sit back and let them get it out

yourusername: and also i do actually get invited to pierre's house in milan (i do also live there)

yukitsunoda0511: THAT IS A SORE SUBJECT Y/N WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE

yourusername: you're calling my boyfriend your boyfriend in public instagram comments?

yukitsunoda0511: PLEASE STAY IN NEW YORK FOREVER

pierregasly: yuki ???

yourusername: that's not very christmas spirit of you yuki

user14: y/n is thousands of miles away but still pulled into the scraps

pierregasly: i'm glad she loves me and puts up with it

yukitsunoda0511: why are you both being so mean to me today :(

yourusername: it's the christmas presents that keep me around (jokes, OBVIOUSLY)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 2,109,778 others

tagged: pierregasly, danielricciardo & landonorris

charles_leclerc: i've stolen his phone so he won't see this but @yourusername he's scarily easy to kidnap

view all comments

user15: so we're on kidnap now... i think the season needs to finish now

user16: no we gotta see how far they are taking it

user17: there's no race in qatar because half of the grid have been arrested lol

francocolapinto: please manifest it i need one of their seats

user18: so real

charles_leclerc: i hate to break it to you franco but you're also on the plane

francocolapinto: don't be dumb charles, i know that, i'm just too pretty to go to jail

charles_leclerc: if anyone is too pretty to go to jail on this AIRPLANE IT IS ME NOW PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN PIERRE IS GETTING SUSPICIOUS

user19: FRANCO IS THERE?

user20: are they all there ???

maxverstappen1: when all is done i don't wanna hear from ANY of them that i don't do anything for them

charles_leclerc: sorry good sir but not all of us have a private jet we can use at the drop of a hat

maxverstappen1: oh i know, i will just hold this over all of you (especially pierre) for as long as i can

charles_leclerc: it's pierre's surprise, why would you hold it against him

maxverstappen1: because i can 👌

yourusername: so on a scale of 1 - 10 how worried should i actually be?

maxverstappen1: very.

charles_leclerc: MAX

charles_leclerc: all is under control y/n do not worry

yourusername: i gotta go warm up for my show tonight i better not finish the show to news reports that my boyfriend is dead

charles_leclerc: he will be alive!

yourusername: and well?

charles_leclerc: i don't want to make that guarantee

yourusername: EXCUSE ME?

charles_leclerc: what? my lawyers told me to never make promises i can't 100% deliver on?

yourusername: well consider me worried

user21: they're defo doing what we think they're doing right

oscarpiastri: if you've got more than two brain cells and the ability to read context cues you will know, it's not the craziest surprise ever

charles_leclerc: we're not in a country rn, maritime laws and all that - THINK

user22: .... riiiiiiiiiiiiight

yukitsunoda0511

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 489,205 others

tagged: pierregasly & yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: using this love sick fool as an excuse to visit new york

view all comments

user24: they took him to nyc to see y/n !!! that's so cute i can't

user25: are they going to go to y/n's show ???

maxverstappen1: they weren't allowed my jet without the assurance that we were going to that damn show

yourusername: you were very happy to see me as someone who recently publicly told me to stay in nyc forever ...

yukitsuonda0511: obviously i said that so we could come visit you !!!

yukitsunoda0511: it was all a part of the plan

charles_leclerc: ummmm you had no part of the plan

yukitsunoda0511: i clearly seduced pierre into not asking questions

yourusername: you're very close to successfully seducing my foot to your ass

yukitsunoda0511: pierre !!!!!!!!!!!!

pierregasly: i am not helping you here bro

user26: someone get yuki a girlfriend before he gets his ass high kicked out of radio city

yukitsunoda0511: at this point i am just doing it to annoy them

yourusername: whatever you want to tell yourself girlypop

yukitsunoda0511: you're just scared that i'd look better than you in the costumes

yourusername: oh really?

pierregasly: okay girls there's enough pierre to go around

pierregasly: but it is all going to y/n, sorry yuki

yukitsunoda0511: you're scared you'll find things out about yourself

pierregasly: is it time to go home yet y/n ???

user27: fuck george vs max i need y/n vs yuki

user28: instead of crash threats it's just yuki threatening to steal rockette outfits

user29: surely there's someone who can make this happen? @f1 @yourusername

yourusername: noooooooo chance

yukitsunoda0511: cough, cough SCARED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen and 303,277 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: heard my frenchie missed me <3

view all comments

user30: my god they're so cute

user31: i love when a man is so shameless about his love

user32: the matching outfits !!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thanks charles!

charles_leclerc: you're a great friend

charles_leclerc: you're an amazing person who knows us so well and DOESN'T try and seduce one of us

charles_leclerc: how can we ever repay you

charles_leclerc: oh well, no worries guys i love you

yourusername: nurse he's out again

charles_leclerc: i'm giving you ten seconds before i lose my shit

yourusername: i jest !!! thank you for bringing my lover boy to me charles

pierregasly: thank you charlooooo i guess all my complaining was worth it, i'll make sure to keep it up

charles_leclerc: no no no no no no no No No No NO NO NO NO

user33: charles got major friend points for reuniting them (after like a week away from each other lol) and now will be stuck with pierre complaining full time

alexalbon: and this kids, is why we're not nice to each other

user34: the grid being so done with pierre is so funny

charles_leclerc: the change from him being a slut to a lover boy is too much for my head

pierregasly: can we tell radio city to push back your performances to the second week of december so we don't have to be apart

yourusername: babe i don't think i'm important enough to be making those kind of demands

pierregasly: I THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT ENOUGH

yourusername: thank you baby but being a rockette is my dream so you'll have to deal with a couple weeks without me

pierregasly: so you don't miss me :(

yourusername: you're on my mind all the time, i love you xx

pierregasly: i love you more xx

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 673,298 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: only two more races until i can become a full time christmas wag xx

view all comments

user37: the grid are so cute 🥰

user38: the way y/n's dressing room was full of flowers omg she's so loved

user39: the videos of them just being flabbergasted by the show, so personal to me

yourusername: thank you all for coming to see the show !! i promise everyone else were a lot less chill about you guys being there than they let off

pierregasly: no thank YOU for being the star you are 🌟

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: are qatar and abu dhabi really that important?

pierregasly: unfortunately they are :( (i am also contractually obligated to be there)

yourusername: boooooooooooooo

alpinef1: but we're paying him to buy you christmas presents

yourusername: ... okay i guess

user40: christmas came early with all this grid content

user41: this is what i wanted from drive to survive not the fabricated drama

yukitsunoda0511: although i still think i'd look better in the costumes... i don't think i'd slay the high kicks like you y/n :(

yourusername: i'll take it !

yukitsunoda0511: but you guys will let me come to the milan house in the new year right?

yourusername: you'll have to ask pierre ...

yukitsunoda0511: PIERRE PLEASE

pierregasly: i guess... only if you stop saying you're prettier than my girlfriend. NO ONE IS PRETTIER THAN HER

yourusername: that's crazy coming from the handsomest man in the world

charles_leclerc: let's not get too crazy here y/n

yourusername: look who isn't getting a christmas present this year now ...

charles_leclerc: i mean last year you gave me a "this candle smells like max verstappen" and a max cardboard cutout

maxverstappen1: sounds like a great gift to me ...

pierregasly: well the presents she gets me are great

charles_leclerc: i don't want to know about those presents

user42: even christmas isn't free from them being horn dogs

yourusername: why do you think i learnt to high kick babe ....

charles_leclerc: shut THE FUCK UP

pierregasly: heheheheeh

fin.

note: oh gosh it's been a busy busy busy week. i haven't written for pierre for like a year lol - enjoy!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 #pierre gasly instagram au #pierre gasly instagram edit #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfic

695 notes · View notes

joeyfranchise · 4 months ago

Text

no one’s ever had me (not like you)

joe burrow x reader

description: after a tough week 5 loss in overtime, joe comes home to you angry and confused. you try to make him feel better and comfort him, letting him know you’ll always be there.

warnings: nothing too bad, but still MDNI. (makes me uncomfy.) lots of angry joe, a bit of fluff, semi-spicy kiss. mostly angst.

word count: 1.8k

note. hi hi! this is my first joe fic/blurb so i hope you guys enjoy it. sorry in advance that lowercase is my aesthetic. i used to get yelled at for it in elementary school. i love you guys. who dey!! (title & plot are lyrics from so high school, i love u mother taylor.)

pacing. you were pacing back and forth in front of the television in joe’s living room, watching the seconds tick down to end regulation time in the game. it took everything in you not to turn it off.

you watched as the minutes, seconds, milliseconds in overtime ticked by, hoping and praying your boyfriend and his team could pull out a win.

you felt your heart lurch as mcpherson went for the field goal and the ball wasn’t in the correct place. wide left. you knew it was over. you continued watching, frozen in place, as baltimore did everything they needed to do to score. they made it to field goal range, kicked, and won the game. your heart was hammering against your chest. your breath was coming out in short puffs.

after valiant efforts from joe and the rest of the team, the bengals once again took a loss at the very end of the game, something that kept happening to them this year. you knew joe would come home upset.

watching the post game interview was going to be something you dreaded today. joe took his seat and began talking to the interviewers, answering their repetitive questions and talking about what needed to be done to fix the team, what could use work next week.

you rested your head in your hands and blew out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “oh, joey…” you whispered, seeing your boyfriend’s clearly upset glare on the screen. you couldn’t wait to see him when he got home, but you were unsure of what his mood would be.

after the interview was done, you turned the television off. ‘i could start some laundry’ you thought, at least that’d keep you busy until joe’s return home.

you made your way to his bedroom, which honestly felt like your room too, and gathered all the clothes that needed to be washed before taking them to the laundry room. you tossed the laundry into the machine and then added in your favorite scent beads and detergent before turning it on and closing the lid.

‘i can tackle dishes next’ you thought, heading for the large kitchen. of course you could’ve loaded them into the dishwasher, but something needed to keep you busy and washing dishes was always strangely cathartic to you.

you popped your earbuds in and started listening to your favorite playlist before tackling the chore. once dishes were complete, you vacuumed, watered a few plants, and made yourself a snack. finally the washer beeped, so you went to switch the clothes over.

as you were switching them, joe arrived home, pulling his sleek black car into the garage before locking it up and heading into the house. listening to your music and keeping yourself busy helped lift your spirits some, which you hoped would aide you when joe finally made it back.

when he didn’t greet you upon entering the house, you knew tonight would be a tough night.

you peeked your head out of the laundry room to check for a clear coast, and it was. tiptoe-ing your way down the hall, you made your way to the kitchen where joe still was, his back facing you.

you cleared your throat softly to get his attention, but he didn’t move. you could see he was scrolling through his phone, you worried he was reading negativity that was being spewed about himself and the team.

“joey?” you called, your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

“what?” he snapped, turning to face you. you flinched at the tone of his voice, taking half a step back. internally he berated himself for scaring you, but his post-game mood was too foul to turn off now.

“i know it’s silly to ask, but are you okay?” you question, looking up at him from across the room.

he ran his hand through his short blonde hair before blowing a snarky chuckle through his nose, scoffing at you.

“am i okay?” he snarked, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket. “what a great question! you sound like the post-game interviewers!”

the bite in his tone was starting to affect you, but you didn’t want to leave him alone just yet. as much as it hurt, you knew what he needed in this moment was to let this anger out any way possible.

“talk to me about it.” you pleaded, walking toward him and placing a hand on his forearm. he rolled his eyes as a response. “c’mon joey, i know you’re mad but you can—“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before joe groans out in response, a loud “UGH!” before lobbing his water bottle at the wall. you’re shocked it doesn’t bust a hole through.

“what is there to say, hmm? what do you want me to tell you that the world doesn’t already think or know? we aren’t looking like a championship team right now. everything we’re doing is never enough for success, and here i am, 27 years old and being called washed up.” he chides, looking down at you. his voice booms across the room, making you feel only inches tall.

your expression drops, and you turn your gaze toward the wall as tears well up in your eyes. joe takes a small step toward you, his hands flexing at his sides. you can tell he wants to reach out to you, touch you, apologize to you for scaring you.

“i’m sorry.” he says softly, hanging his head. you’ll let him make the first move. he steps toward you again, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, testing the waters. when he sees that you’re still receptive to his touch, despite his atrocious attitude, he moves his hand to the back of your neck before pulling you into him for a hug. you instinctively reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you.

both of you stay like that for a few moments, just holding each other and feeling each other breathe. joe’s face is buried in your neck and your hand is scratching slow soft circles into his hair. you hear him sniffle and you pull away slightly, trying to get a view of his face. he looks up at you with red eyes, tears falling down his cheeks.

“joey, baby,” you comfort him, “it’s going to be okay. you’re going to be okay.” your heart breaks seeing him so upset.

he says nothing, but leads you out of the kitchen and to the living room so you can sit down together. he plops onto the couch and pulls you into his lap, burying his face again.

“i just feel like i’m failing them. i’m doing everything within my power, and it doesn’t seem like enough.” he rasps, muffled into your neck. you say nothing, knowing he needs to get this out. you run your hands down his biceps as a gesture for him to keep going, that you understand.

“the whole world thinks i’m a fluke. they think my play-calling is shit, they think i had one kick-ass college season and that i made it to the nfl and choked. when does it end, you know? we took our team to the superbowl and what happened? we lost. it just feels like i’m stuck in this rut and i can’t get out.”

you sit for a moment, processing what he said. his words hurt you, just as much as you know the thoughts hurt him.

“i hear you joey. i really do. but i have some things i’d like to say, if that’s okay.”

he nods, expectant eyes raking over your face. “i’d love to hear it, baby. please.”

“first of all,” you start, playing up your sass in an attempt to make him laugh, “you aren’t washed up. people who think you are most likely sit on their couches and rot all day long while you’re out here training and conditioning your body for the physicality of your job. i think you’re in your prime.” you pause, squeezing his biceps for emphasis.

“next, you can’t take all the blame. sure, you’re the leader of the team, but it doesn’t all fall on you. it’s very noble of you to do that, but you don’t have to shoulder it. you played your heart out today. you all did. i’m so proud of you.” you move your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“lastly, fuck what the world thinks, joe. you know how good you are. i know how good you are. your parents know, your teammates know. other players in the league know. you’re incredible. you’ve got this, and after all is said and done i will be here. win or lose, i’m here, and i’ve got you.”

his eyes soften as you finish speaking. you don’t get a verbal reply. his hands reach up to cup your face, pulling you into him for a long kiss. his lips are soft against yours and it doesn’t take long before his hands are slipping up the back of your hoodie and rubbing along the exposed skin of your back.

your hands stay on his cheeks, loving the feeling of him being so close to you, his body pressed into yours. “i. love. you. so. much.” you tell him between pecks, feeling him smile into the kiss. one of his hands returns to your face and then tangles into your hair, tilting your head slightly as his tongue drags over your bottom lip.

he slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, gliding it against yours. after a moment, you pull away for air.

“thank you for that,” he smiles, stroking his hands down your arms, “for all of it. i needed that. i love you too. and i’m sorry for scaring you with my temper.”

“it’s okay, mine can be worse.” you jest, poking him in the ribs.

he pulls you down so you’re both laying on the couch before pulling his large cable knit throw blanket over you both. “let’s put it out of our minds, get takeout, and watch a movie.” you suggest, and he smiles in agreement. the two of you get cozy and pick your movie and dinner, remaining snuggled up on the couch as you watch and eat.

“you’re right, you know.” joe finally speaks again, as the movie nears its end.

“i usually am, but enlighten me.” you laugh, slipping your hand under his shirt and resting it on his abdomen.

“you’ve always had me. every turn, every bump in the road. every time i feel like i’ve made the biggest mistake, the biggest failure of my life. you’re there. you talk me through it and you put me in my place. no one’s ever had me like you have. i love you too, by the way.”

a soft smile spreads across your face as you reach up to stroke his hair again. “ditto baby, no one’s ever had me, not like you.”

he leans down and presses another soft, sweet peck to your lips. everything was going to be okay. you always had each other.

tags: @slimshiesty if you wanna be added, or if you have requests pls send me asks or dm’s! 💗

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader fanfic #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

693 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 9 days ago

Text

『♡』 Caught Under the Mistletoe

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: alone on christmas, you spend the night with your equally lonely coworkers. of course, your office crush nanami kento wants to party, too. he's a mystery, yet you can't help wanting to be around him. with a little help, can you beat the odds and finally confess?

♡ wc: 8.0k

♡ tags: fem! reader, jjk au, office au, misunderstood nanami, friends to lovers, corny gojo (as usual), praise, switch nanami, whiny whipped needy nanami, lots of overstim, manhand|ing, öral (f!receiving), mäting press, nanami cums quick, multiple órgasms, basically vanilla

notes: im almost a month late for my christmas fic i am sooo sorry! hope everyone had a happy holidays. did i finish this fic or did this fic finish me? who knows :P comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

“Hey, watch your step!”

Gojo barely catches your calf before you trip off the chair you’re dancing on. You fail to realize your heels are sinking into the fabric. Fortunate for him to be there—the tipsy girl isn’t doing herself any favors twirling on a spinning office chair, but liquid courage has its perks. You’re narrowly balancing a drink in your hand—plain whiskey—while Gojo attempts to keep his swishing in the short glass. His efforts must’ve looked like a game to you, because you’re giggling and patting his arm as if he were an exaggerating child.

The rest of the office is in an uproar, loose paper scattered about and documents gone unfinished. Some dancing, others chat over burgundy wine or dark liquor. There’s an awful Christmas song playing in the background, but most are too drunk to hear it. You can almost listen to jingle bells above your belligerent assistant manager addressing his qualms about the boss in a haughty manner; ivory shirt unbuttoned, gut spilling out of his too-tight pants as he raises his glass in protest for a pay raise. The two usual troublemakers you seldom speak to are having a concerning amount of fun with the copy machine and their bare rear.

You’re not without fun though, pencil skirt straining on your thighs while you jump and sing an unrelated song bouncing around in your head. If your boss were here, heaven only knows the trouble you’d be in. Luckily, he isn’t here. Every year, your boss took paid time off to spend time with family during the holidays.

The other losers with nothing to do spent their Christmas at the office.

Sometimes you spent so much time at the office you began to consider it home. And so you’d bring a little piece of home with you, holding a high spirit for the holidays. Red and green festivities kept the joy alive, regardless of the depressed groans and sighs you became accustomed to during shifts. You’re still young, still somewhat hopeful about your future career. You put your heart into decorating the department.

Well, you and Nanami, of course.

“Santa’s little helper” is what you called him, to which he adjusted his glasses and begrudgingly agreed. He agrees to most of your plans, unless they involve outrageous pranks or a possible HR violation.

When he first arrived to the building, he exuded such a quiet energy you sometimes didn’t notice him on the clock. When the lights dimmed for the day, and you strolled past his cubicle, a bright blue light casted long shadows. His silence was almost intimidating, and though most people made it a point to avoid contact with him, it felt unfair to you. You made it a point to get to know him, even if it were sometimes overwhelming or tedious—popping your head in during crunch time or offering him a snack. He eventually responded in kind. Not the kind that spoke out of obligation, but genuine respect. You haven’t learned much about him since you met him, and he won’t openly indulge, but you make attempts anyway.

You’ve been messing with him the entirety of December. More ‘elf-on-a-shelf’ like, leaving mysterious Christmas trinkets for him to find in his cubicle. A tiny Santa here, a gnome there, gag gifts hidden in his metal drawers. You still remember him opening his briefcase to find a small porcelain reindeer standing up on his folders. And let’s not forget when he sat down after a water break and instead of a whoopie cushion, a traditional Christmas song reverberated across the hallway.

You’ve both done well, spending too much time after hours putting a tree up, blossoming with multicolored ornaments and shapes in no particular theme. Garlands with waxy red berries hang from the fluorescent ceiling lights and removable winter decals are stuck on every wall, next to the inconvenient rainbow bulbs.

Nanami denied the addition of a mistletoe, to your utter dismay. He truly embodied the little helper role, tending to your every request with an accompanied sly comment or concern. Unfortunately, it didn’t subdue the increasing feelings you already have for him. Within your delusion, you’re even starting to believe he might be flirting with you—ridiculous, right?

If stone-cold Nanami were flirting with you, you’d probably die on the spot. There’s no chance though, and you’re fine with crushing from a distance. At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself to maintain a friendship.

He makes it hard, though—incredibly hard. It’s difficult right now, as he leans against a wall away from the crowd, teal button-up taut against his torso, wearing a Santa hat at your request. Nanami, who regularly keeps up with his appearance, looks somewhat disheveled from the alcohol.

You’ve finally learned something about him; he can’t handle his liquor.

He won’t show it, but while he maintains the same stoic expression, strands of hair hang over his somber eyes, and his glasses aren’t perfectly perched on his face. The buttons pull at the fabric, and he heaves heavy with his sturdy arms folded underneath the chest, bunching his spotted tie. The light makes it worse, catching on the veins peaking from his skin. You could trace every tendon corded around his forearms, thick hands swirling a shot glass. It��s smaller in comparison to his palm, and you watch his fingers trace the rim of the glass. They look delicate and manicured, but equally rough. How they’d study the curves of a body, snake around a lovers head as he pulled them close. Wrapping his fingers around-

“You’re drooling” Gojo blurts. You snap your head to him, and he laughs heartily before smacking your back. “Shhh-tt!” You wave a hand over his mouth, but the wide grin he’s sporting goes beyond your reach. He gets in close, not bothering to cover his mouth for the gossip.

“Go tell him.”

“Wha- hell no” you shake your head, stepping down from the chair nursing your dwindling drink. You refuse to hear the absurdity he’s proposing. “Why not? Perfect night, ain’t it?”

You throw back what little is left in the cup and set it on a random coworkers desk. “How so?”

“Christmas Eve. Lots can happen, y’know?” He presses his hand to the sides of your head and turns your attention back to Nanami.

“Lotsss.” You swat him—luckily Nanami was engrossed in the contents of his glass. “Fuck you” you whisper, semi joking. He laughs. “Cmon, me and the guy are cool. Let me wingman.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I ever let you wingman when you can’t even get a date yourself?” He clutches his chest, feigning pain, “Ouch!”

“I’m fine with us just being friends, okay?”

“Pfft, clearly not. I just caught you eye-fucking him.” You roll your eyes, shooing him off mid-conversation. Gojo may be right, but it couldn’t happen today. It wasn’t worth confessing, especially with his gift tucked away in your bag. Life would become too complicated too fast.

You’ve sobered up some from the harsh reality of your situation. Being sober sucks. However, you’ve neglected to check on Nanami since the party started, and now might be a great time. You walk in his direction, steering your eyes from Gojo’s smug expression.

Nanami catches you approaching and nods, sleeves busting against his bicep. His brown sugar eyes are half lidded, and a light glow dusts feverishly over his ears and neck. His chiseled bone structure appears gentle with a pinkish blush. You hold your breath, afraid you might divulge the thoughts searing your tongue with sin.

“How’s my little helper doing?” you ask, leaning against the wall beside him. Your bodies ghosts against each other, never fully touching, always in two separate worlds. You don’t expect his gaze to follow you, and you’re slightly surprised when you turn to him and he’s staring.

“Pretty good,” his voice permeates like fine bourbon, deep and intoxicating to your hazy ears. He speaks in his usual rigid manner despite the drink. You could listen to him talk forever—embarrassingly so, as you got written up for talking frequently in his cubicle. “All thanks to Santa.”

“I’m glad. Did he get you everything you wanted for Christmas?” you smile.

“Yea. She did.” She. You brush it off—a slip of the tongue. It’s hard to trust what a tipsy person says, anyway. You press your nails to the corners of your mouth and pull upwards.

“Then be happy!”

“I am” he responds. Blunt. You sigh dramatically.

“Hmph. But you never smile.” He watches you close, and your nerves cause you to fiddle with the paneled pattern on the glass. So much for wanting his attention.

“Would you like me to?” There’s no humor in his tone. Did you want him to smile? Of course. But you desire the genuine satisfaction of a pure, unfiltered smile. It means nothing if you have to force it out of him.

You turn your head from him with a pointed nose. “Nope. I want it to be genuine when you do.”

Facing him again, you accept the challenge, “I’ll get you to smile!”

There’s a subtle perk in his brow, and faint creases form at the corners of his drooping lids.

“Oh yeah?” he drawls, an octave lower. It spurs a feeling within you that crumples your resolve too fast. Breath catching in your throat, the air is suddenly stuffier than before. You grip the glass for dear life, attempting to compose yourself, but you can’t when he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in existence. You watch the way his eyes flick across your face; your eyes, then your nose, down to the curve of your lips, moving quicker as they travel down. You swallow thick, unable to avert your gaze, unable to stop the heavy rise and fall of your chest. You must be imagining it. Or maybe Gojo’s right, what’s the harm in-

“(Y/N)! Get over here and drink with us!” your assistant manager yells from another section.

It breaks you out of your trance, and you turn on your heels towards the sound, just enough to hide the blush pooling over your cheeks. “Comin’!”

•••

The night has simmered into occasional chatter, with most of your coworkers leaving to go barhopping or get a head start on their hangover. The stragglers—a few employees, you, Gojo, and Nanami—packing up to leave.

You’re throwing your coat over your shoulders, running to your cubicle to hopefully catch the last bus. Before you can grab your briefcase, a flicker of something shiny draws your eye. You pull your drawer open; a miniature snow globe with two fluffy penguins inside wearing festive hats and scarves, flippers stretched as they gather snow. You shake it up and watch the artificial flakes spin in the liquid. A smile unconsciously beams on your face, even more when you notice a yellow note tucked on the underside. You peel off the tape and unfold the post-it note.

“Your turn

-Nanami”

A bland note from a serious man. Even so, your heart feels full to the brink of bursting. You reread the note over and over. You wish you could’ve witnessed big, intimidating Nanami buying the minature from a toy store. Unintentional poker face pointing at tiny penguins. The image sends you into hysterics. Once you’ve had enough of gushing over the same two words, you tuck it in your wallet, a place you won’t forget, and gently put the gift in a safe compartment in your bag.

You can already hear Gojo from the elevator; he gets loud when he’s drunk, and unfortunately he’s a lightweight.

“Cmon, you’re taking too long!” he drones, holding the elevator.

“Okay, okay!” You shuffle inside. You’re a bit sad that Nanami left before you could say goodbye, but you still have the opportunity to give him his present on the next shift. Gojo leans on handrail, button up popped to his stomach.

“So, no one’s gonna make a move, huh?” He pity’s you in his smug, know-it-all attitude, “it’s so embarrassing watching you two.”

You have half the mind to refrain from reminding him about when he broke down midday in front of Geto’s house, begging him to take him back. He gets emotional about it. “It’s not as easy as just saying ‘hey, I’ve liked you since I’ve met you. Please don’t think I’m weird’.”

“Whatever. Guess this must be the life of people with no game. I feel sorry for you, y’know?” You scoff. If anyone has game, it isn’t Gojo.

“I don’t see you getting laid tonight.”

“Spoke too soon, sweetheart. I’m fucking a pretty girl after this. And you’re going home,” he peers under his glasses, “dickless.”

“You’re such a little-“ The elevator dings, opening into the company lobby. Some people are mingling by the sofa. Nanami’s at the front door, putting his beige trench coat on with his briefcase at his side.

You’re about to step out when Gojo intercepts you, walking ahead first.

“Na-Na-Mi!”

“Satoru.” you angry-whisper, trying to grab him. But he dodges your attack effortlessly and glances behind, mouthing ‘shut up’.

Nanami turns to Gojo, not exactly peeved but surely not happy to see him. They’re two opposites, and you could tell that Gojo quickly got on his nerves. “Hello.”

Gojo puts an arm around him, and you watch him visibly clam up. “So formal! The boss isn’t here, you can speak normally.”

“This is how I speak. Also, happy holidays.”

“Mhm, mhm. By the way, my friend (Y/N) here wants to-“

“Also wish you a happy holiday!” you chime in, speaking through your teeth. More like screaming, as you try to grab the attention of Gojo’s massive ego, to no avail.

“Riiight. Anyway, Nanami-“

“Shouldn’t we all start heading home?” you add, itching to run from the situation. You zip your coat, but Gojo won’t let you go that easily.

“We should! In fact, Nanami, (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone to walk her home. She lives far, and you know how dangerous it is for a woman to walk alone at night.”

You feel your eye twitch. You might actually kill him tonight.

“I’ve got a date tonight so I can’t do it. And I know you have nothing to do so-“ Nanami side-eyes him, then turns to you. For a second, his gaze seems to soften. You smile, mostly as a silent apology for Gojo’s rambling.

“Would you like me to walk with you?” he asks kindly.

“…If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all” he’s quick to retort.

“Great! No time to waste then!” Gojo proclaims. He brings his other arm around you, guiding both of you out the sliding doors and into the cold darkness dotted by frosted streetlamps. He steps back from the throuple and brings Nanami close, practically smushing you together by the arm.

“See ya!” he waves.

Nanami surveys the path, giving you ample opportunity to glare at Gojo. He never cared, dopey grin on his face as he mimics a sexual act with his hands. Then he walks in the other direction, leaving you to deal with the situation he created. The bus is long gone.

“Are you ready?” Nanami says, directing you to the inside of the sidewalk.

“Yea, let’s go.”

Snowfall cascades in blooming white sparkles amongst the icy sky. It drapes the parked cars in sheets of powder, and the tips of your shoes in frost. The solid breeze through your pantyhose creeps into your bare legs. Cold, but not uncomfortable. You luckily brought earmuffs, but Nanami isn’t as fortunate. Checkered scarf draped around his coat, you can’t tell if his ears are red because of the chill or tipsy after effects. He looks at you, unaware of the red patch on his nose.

“Sorry about Gojo” he says.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

“If you’re too cold, I can call you a taxi, instead.”

“No worries, I’m fine. Are you cold, Rudolph?” you snicker.

He unconsciously touches his nose with pinkish fingers. “Is my nose red?”

You stop in your tracks, “Come, I can fix it for you.”

Nanami obeys and kneels down to your height, eyes fixed to the concrete gradually collecting more snow. Flakes dance around you, towering amongst his hair and sinking in the woolen scarf. You gently bring your hands around the fabric and loop once around his neck. Your knuckles graze his winded jaw in the process—soft and cool, a bit of stubble you barely noticed. You tuck the fringed end pieces into the loop, close to his nose where hot breaths warm your hand. The back shimmies over his head in a balaclava style to hopefully shield him from the icy onslaught.

“Done. You should get warmer now.” He stands straight with a soft mien. Nanami always shared an easy stare. Yet the same easygoing stare now causes your face to burgeon unimaginable colors.

“Thank you.” The ghost of a smile sweeps his lips, so quick you can’t decide if it’s a fluke or not.

You continue treading through the snow, hands stuffed in coat pockets, legs stiffly shuffling together to preserve any heat. It’s quiet for some time—you’re afraid you’ll overstep. In-depth conversations weren’t often had, and you’re unsure of how to proceed without being pushy.

“Is work getting easier for you?”

“Yes. The workload is manageable and I’m making good progress with reports this month. I can get ahead of next month’s fiscal documentation.” Refined and straightforward. A natural born salaryman.

“You’re always talking about work” you glance at him, “I’m curious, what are your hobbies?”

When he doesn’t speak, you immediately go into damage control. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“I bake…” he mutters, a discovery that persists in the space. Nanami is the last person you’d expect to enjoy baking. You half expected him to reply with something mundane like filing taxes. It warms your heart to imagine him in an apron pressing cookie dough through gingerbread molds. He had that endearing quality about him.

“Really? What’s your favorite thing to make?”

“Double chocolate chip cookies.”

Your mouth gapes, “Wait…remember when I stole those cookies from you on your break? You made those?” You recall the confectionary treat and the way it melted in your mouth. You practically stalked his lunchbox for days hoping he’d bring more.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, they were so good!” you chirp, “why didn’t you say you made them?”

“…I’m not too confident in my abilities yet.”

“They were amazing, you should be proud” you say, gazing up at him. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the lack of space between you two—arms brushing, shoulder leaning on him a bit. You’ll tell yourself it’s because of the cold. Just this once.

“If you enjoy them so much, I’ll bring some next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He gives you a faint nudge, calling your attention. He doesn’t seem bothered by the extra weight on his body. “And what do you like to do outside of work?”

“I read a lot. I write occasionally.”

“Any specific genre?”

“No, not really. I’ll read anything if it interests me.”

“I’d like to see what you write sometime. You have a creative spirit.”

You recognize it clear as day. The upturned curve of his dry lips, wrinkled eyes sweet and gentle in the dim amber lighting of a street lamp. Freckled by the reflection of steady snow, they appear sparkling as they bore into you.

“Thanks” is all you manage to choke out.

“I didn’t know you walk this way.”

“‘Cause you’re always doing overtime”, you hesitate before you add, “you should give yourself a break once in a while. Take care of your health more.”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” But I’m worried. It’s meant to be reassurance, but reassurance can only go so far when there’s noticeable eye bags. You step in front of him, spinning to make eye contact.

“Before we split, don’t go. I want to give you a present.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Nanami sighs a laugh. “Yes, we are.” He holds the sides of your earmuffs, pressing them tight to your head. Almost as if he’s ensuring you don’t get too cold. “I feel bad now. I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“That’s okay. Walking with me is enough.”

“Then could I walk you all the way home?”

The answer leaves your mouth before you can think, “Sure!”

You pause, deliberating on your urge to extend the invitation. Nanami regards you closely, watching the minute muscles in your lips twitch as your words come to fruition. You avert your eyes. If only he knew the effect it had on you.

“It’s p-pretty cold out here. Maybe if you want, you could come inside. Just to like, get warm, y’know?”

Something flashes in Nanami’s gaze. Brief like other times, yet this one feels darker—full of incomplete emotions you’re not ready to decipher yet. He’s generous with smiles tonight.

“If you’ll have me.”

Back at your apartment, you’re fishing for the key in your never-ending purse. You’re somewhat thankful for its disappearance since it gives you time to compose yourself. You’re hoping the state of your home is acceptable to his standard. You hook the key ring under your pinky and pull it out.

The door, embellished with a Christmas pinecone wreath, creaks open into the narrow entryway.

“Please come in.” He obliges, following after you as you drop your bag on the cluttered hall tree. You’re too distracted tucking your shoes properly in the rack, aligning them meticulously where it doesn’t count. Then you notice his footsteps came to a halt.

Unlucky for you, you forgot about the shiny object you’ve had dangling at your entryway since December arrived. It slips your mind sometimes when it’s so out of reach, inches above you. But for Nanami’s height, it draws his attention instantly.

A pine and cedar mistletoe sprouting red berries hangs from the ceiling by a red ribbon. Meant to be a joke for Shoko when you smother her in excessive love. Meant to complete the other holiday decorations littering your apartment.

What it wasn’t meant for, was the impulsive invitation to your crush. You stare at it, to which your eyes wander to Nanami, also staring at it. He’s lingering, then he looks at you, amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Uh, ignore that!” you stammer, a nervous tick in your tone.

“Were you expecting someone?” He’s already removing his hat and scarf.

“No, it’s just a silly joke between me and Shoko.” He watches you intently. You have to get used to the laidback version of Nanami, for the sake of avoiding a heart attack.

“I can take your coat!” you divert, but he dodges your grasp. “No need. You’ve had a long day.” He places it on one of the pegs.

“Well, make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m fine for now, thanks.”

You quickly scuffle to the kitchen. A tall glass of water to subdue your pounding heart. It’s the fault of your own body, psyching you up to believe that for a second, Nanami might be reciprocating your interest. In a way, conversing with him was easier when you had no expectations, no indication of “like” on his end. You aren’t even sure what like means from his perspective.

When you leave the kitchen, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread with an arm resting on the back of it. He shifts in his seat, beige slacks taut on the fat of his thighs. You run to grab the cyan felt gift box from your bag and return to the living room.

Plopping down, it’s pretty cramped for the span of two people. It's not this crowded when Shoko comes over, but what did you expect when Nanami’s wingspan is twice the size of yours. With your back on the armrest, your knees are inches from his.

You hold out the box towards him. “Here you go, I hope you like it.”

He grabs it, feeling the material. Then he glances at your giddy face before opening it. It displays a polished gold chronograph watch with brown leather trim. The ivory velvet interior contrasts against the gold-toned dials, and he marvels it with shock.

“This was expensive” he says, examining the sub dials like fragile glass. It definitely was, and you did a few overtimes for it, but you won’t tell him that. “I hope you didn’t go through any trouble to get this.”

“You deserve it. You do a lot for everyone. And you’ve tolerated my nonsense all month.”

“Thank you isn’t enough for something like this. I’ll do what I can to repay you.”

You splay your palm. “Aht aht, don’t even think about repaying me.”

“I’m covering your lunch for the rest of the year” he states, matter-of-fact. You don't correct your touching knees.

“I won’t let you.” A chuckle escapes through his nose, features softening along the edges of his chiseled cheeks.

“Then how about those cookies?”

“…I’ll take that” you beam, “and, I want to be your test subject for any desserts you make in the future.”

“Whatever you want.” He slides the watch out of the display and gives it to you. “Would you like to put it on?”

You unlatch the gold buckle and align the brown straps on his wrist. Fine blonde hair covers his forearm and you couldn’t fit your hand around his wrist if you tried, but you manage with two. “It fits perfect.”

“How’d you figure out my wrist size?”

“Remember when I asked for your help with a friend’s surprise gift?”

“Ah, so that was a lie?” he grins.

“Just a little one.”

“Lying's bad for company morale.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not at work right now, huh?”

“Mhm.” Nanami reaches for his tie, drawing it loose with a finger. “Very good.”

You slide your shoes off, perching your foot on the other one before sliding that one off, as well. There’s a numbing pressure eating at your heels. You rub the balls of your ankles, persistent aches from the nonstop dancing you’ll sooner feel tomorrow.

“Does it hurt?”

“I should’ve taken my shoes off when I danced” you sigh.

He pats his thigh. “Let me help.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Does he want me to...? You don’t have the heart to question it. Not when it’s working in your favor.

“If...that’s okay.” You’re startled a bit when he immediately scoops your leg and hikes it over his thigh in a single motion. You stare at his solid, vein-woven hands encompassing the surface of your ankle.

“By the way, I don’t ‘tolerate’ you. I had fun when we were decorating.”

“Oh, really? It didn’t seem like it, haha.” You’re nervous laughing. Between the small confession and the affectionate thumb swaying back and forth, you’re flustered beyond belief.

“I look forward to our conversations. I’ve never thought of you as a bother.”

You’re sure he’s talking at this point. You know he is. Yet, the series of firm, delicate touches along your ankle dull your ears to everything besides the sound of rough pads moving rhythmically along nylon.

“…Do you give massages often?” Nanami doesn’t look at you, transfixed on catering to your calf. He’s passed your point of soreness, traversing up your leg for the massage. His kneading sends your skin aflame. It’s a fervent intensity that starts at your trembling voice and ends in an embarrassing mess between your thighs. You can’t bear to meet his face. A pinkish tint to his knuckles, brushing the back of your thighs and scaling higher.

“No. I’m practicing for you” he says, breathy and caught in a sharp wind. That’s when you notice his wrinkled collar, buttonholes straining from his tight breathing, and a burning glow poured over his ears and neck. His touches grow impatient, out of sync as if he’s trying to dig under the material to palm raw skin. “I’ll owe you more in the future.”

The watch reflects bright in the headlights of your Christmas tree. Like you’ve laid claim to him. He’s wearing you on his arm.

“You look great.” He pauses, finally turning to gaze at you. His glasses are off center, and his eyes—blooming and almost black—crave a certain unsatiable hunger, gnawing at his stomach with a feast just out of reach. He wouldn’t dare eat without permission.

“It looks great…on you.”

“You look great too” he whispers through a clenched jaw. Your breaths mingle in the space, thoughts going unsaid while somehow tainting the air with insistent need. You can't stand it. Can’t stand the way your thighs clench, searching to stave off desire.

Nanami parts his chapped lips, then closes them. He swallows nothing, Adam’s apple bobbing. Restless.

Every little action he performs elicits a sense of longing once buried in an unattainable sector of your heart.

“Hah…please don’t look at me like that” he says, tense and on the verge of begging.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me.” It leaves his mouth. Another confession, syrupy and coated in a deep desire, pulsing in the very core of you. He relieves a shaky breath, a ticked jaw struggling to relax.

“I do.”

Nanami’s restless demeanor shifts fast, and the air he’d been saving escapes him entirely. He smoothly tucks his grip under your knees and pulls you close. You settle on his lap, chest to chest, hovering over him. Noses ghosting, threatening to concede. Boiling heat coils in waves in your gut, and your heart skips across your ribcage. He’s equally flustered, if not more. You feel the heavy bulge prodding your tights, enough to earn a muffled sigh.

“You’re giving me false hope.”

“I want you.” He places a hand behind your neck, another trailing up your curves.

“Say it again” he mouths into you. They’re soft, languid with your own. You caress his face, enduring the way he tests your lips, nudging just to pull back.

“I want-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he crashes onto you. The well-mannered Nanami you knew stalks your tender lips with unbridled yearning. Chasing your mouth as if you’d vanish if he released. His lips turn slick from a succession of sloppy, uncoordinated kisses and you’re nearly suffocating. He doesn’t falter, though, choosing to devour your moans, your body, anything relating to the idea of you. He attempts to be gentle with the pace of a lover—but judging by the way he hurriedly hunts your mouth when you part for air, he’s missing the mark.

His hands snake over your waist to the fat of your ass. Fondling through your clothes, you feel the true nature of his grip as pillowy indents fill the space between his fingers. You’ve found purchase in his golden locks, carding through his hair to pull him impossibly close. You’re light-headed, drunk off the pressure of his kiss, his touch refusing to leave your body. The only thing separating your embrace are the tiny moans and whimpers that follow them. Your body betrays you, clenching around nothing like a virgin having her first kiss.

You’re both huffing once you break. Nanami licks his lips, savoring the taste, a crude groan beneath it.

“You give me mixed signals” you pant.

“Then allow me to make it clearer.” He throws his glasses to the side, skittering somewhere on the floor.

Nanami dives back into your mouth, gliding his whiskey-singed tongue against yours. Unrefined, messily exploring your mouth in a manner of wet smacks. The sound goes straight to your sticky underwear, and you’re shifting uncomfortably in his grasp, to which he holds you sturdy on his lap.

“Don’t go” he whimpers, drawing a fleeting breath. Blown-wide pupils bore into you, “I need you.” He licks a stripe up your tongue, allowing a trace of drool to slip amid you as he smothers you in French kisses. His mouth is hot, laden with a dizzying mix of alcohol and zeal, yet he cups your cheek lovingly. You’re slinking under his shirt, fumbling with the fasteners until they pop. Your one-minded focus ignores the buttons scurrying across the rug to enamor his ample pecs, flushed and plump in tandem with his husky build.

You’re alternating against each other’s tongues, neither one of you willing to depart. Gorged on the whimpers you evoke as you cradle his plump chest.

“Darling, please” he whines.

He guides your ass along his aching bulge, stealing a satisfied moan from the depths of your mouths. You’d mistake it for a thermal water bottle if it didn’t twitch. Back and forth on his slacks, the seam bumps your clit each time you roll your hips, smearing the dribbling mess from your pantyhose. He leaves you to oscillate on the tensing fabric, pursuing a semblance of relief, jolts of frisson enveloping you.

You withdraw from him to occupy the space on his neck. Splotching rough, spit-soaked kisses in blurs of red to match his tumid lips. He has a pretty, desperate voice, cracking when you suck on his pulse point. “Uhn, just like that—god.” He lets his head fall a little further, steering you in cycles. “Want more of you.”

When he pulls you up, an evident gloopy trail follows the score of your tights, and you shy away from the scene. He kneads your plush thighs as he spreads them apart, pecks dotted on your cheeks. “Don’t be shy. You’re gorgeous.”

Nanami supports your lower back while picking the buttons from your blouse. Or at least he’s trying to—his desperate limbs can’t latch on properly, and he inevitably snaps it down the middle. You discard it and he’s instantly on your breasts, licking and biting as he reaches for the bra clasp. You take it off yourself in fear of him breaking that too.

His kisses linger on the swell, even when he talks through it. “You don’t know how long”, he gradually raises your skirt to your waist, “I’ve been waiting to touch you like this.”

Nanami takes a nipple in his mouth, circling it recklessly. He indulges in the parts he’s desired for months, indecent with the tug of his teeth on your bud. A lewd stare, misted and still greedy for seconds. And it’s overwhelming; the constant pounding in your cunt, slobber coating your mound with him groping the other. It’s like he has multiple ravenous hands surrounding you, dancing over every crevice he can manage. Consuming you.

And when the soft moans begin to leave you again, it’s driving him crazy. He picks you up and flips you to lay on the couch. He doesn’t back off for long, only to shimmy his shirt off and rend the belt from its loops. You forget to remove your own clothes, too busy gawking at the remaining attire—a loose tie, sock suspenders, and black briefs drenched in milky precome. He drops to his knees in a heartbeat, sharing a warm smile. Nanami really is adorable, and you’re facing a whirlwind of emotions from the contrast of his brimming underwear, and the hold that manhandles your legs on either side of his shoulders.

His brows furrow, agitated with the nylon clinging to what he's lusting after. He grabs the front of them and easily tears it into elastic shreds. He doesn’t apologize this time. You aren’t bothered by it—if anything, it removes some of the pressure from your throbbing muscles. He promptly soothes it, wrapping around your inner thighs to feed his hands into the rips.

“You’re so soft” he moans against the surface just as he paws it. A sigh and he’s immersing his face in the groove of your pussy, smudging open-mouthed kisses over your sensitive clit. The unfiltered contact sends a thrum through your body, though clamping your legs proves futile.

“Ah, be patient” you joke, playing with his hair. He doesn’t spare a glance, webbed mess coating his lips, a thread from him to you.

“Can I eat you? Please?” It comes off more like a formality than an actual question as he nuzzles into you, breathing in with a guttural groan. He slides the soaked cotton halfway, full range to admire your dribbling slit. You can tell he strives to pamper it slow, but Nanami doesn't possess the strength to tease or be composed.

He treats your pussy as if it’s a separate entity from you, indulging and dragging his tongue in long, flat stripes. Nanami eats you for his own enjoyment, eager like a man starved. Slurping and swilling in loud, gratifying squelches. Low mmf’s vibrate against your arousal, but it’s hard to hear when you’re anchored to his face and he refuses to let go. A desperate tongue drinking your heady scent, oblivious to the honeyed fluids sluicing down his chin. He repeats small, calculated licks and continues to treat your squishy flesh like a pliable stress ball.

“Fuck, it’s s'good—so, so good.” You learned something new about Nanami today: he can curse.

Nanami embeds his fingerprints in your skin. Toying with the taste of you, stopping to swirl the relentless appendage around your swollen clit. The tip of his nose does part of the job for him. Your utmost efforts rely on the yank of his scalp, knot after knot collecting in a burning surge through your quivering abdomen. Cries croak in your throat, unable to emerge while he’s having a personal, filthy make-out session with your pussy. He fits perfect sandwiched between your juicy folds and he’ll make sure you know it.

“’M so close” you moan. That’s something he does hear, because he instantly holds tighter, all attention directed to the trembling bundle of nerves. Pleasure builds quick, and when your legs start to shake, he takes that as a sign to delve deeper, sucking aggressively through the shudder. Your body caves and you’re reduced to ecstasy, rutting against his mouth with no control. He gladly accepts in kind. “Nanami.” You’re calling for him, and he hums inside, satisfied as he laps at the spasms.

He comes up for well-deserved air, sweat sheen from his matted hair to the blonde tufts sitting below his bellybutton. Dopey, glossy grin on his face, he shirks out of the tights and places a kiss on the lips he missed so much. You taste yourself on his tongue. Then you feel a finger glide against your syrupy entrance.

“Nanami, wait.” He peppers kisses down your torso where he returns to his knees.

“I have to make sure you can take me, baby.” Another grazes, soaking in your essence with a few languid drags. One dips inside, quickly finding a home in your gooey walls. Tiny aftershocks mimic the slow drawl of a curling finger and you’re keening.

“Mm, too much.”

“I’m sorry.” He pumps a tolerable, sopping stretch. Adding a finger, “Be a good girl, okay?”

You’re clinging to him, sucking him in hopes for more. Your pussy greedily eats it up despite the overstimulated smolder, a melting thump thump that contracts around him. He’s twisting his fingers in a c-shape, looking for little hints that he’s in the right direction, and you’re giving him everything he needs.

His tender, loving stare settles on you. Lapping at your clit and pumping your g-spot while you succumb to the hazy pressure thawing your head. You’re melting in a frenzy of cries, simultaneously reeling and pleading for him. Nanami’s determined; imbibing the juices gushing from your vulva and tailing the frenetic buck of your hips.

“Uh, oh shit, right there” you moan, and he speeds up.

“Yeah? Right here?” You’re nodding nonsensically, whine peaking. Your back arches and he moves to your breast. “Let it out, darling. I got you. Come on my fingers baby.”

The second he latches onto the nub you’re rendered silent, mouth shaped in an ‘O’ as you come hard around his fingers. He slows, milking your orgasm for all it has, careless of your shaking legs and tears gathering on your lashes. He pecks the corner of your eye, and you’re too caught up in your own sobs to see him lick his lips.

“Such a good girl for me.” You’re showered in kisses and he rubs circles on your waist. You blink back the tears, meeting tongue and teeth in a carnal exchange. But you’re craving more, him and nothing else. You palm his erection and he groans. You can see the painful print of his entire cock through his briefs, angry tip peeking out ever-so-slightly.

“Take it off” you whisper. You watch his eyes flicker, a moment of hesitation—you won’t let him. “Stand up.”

Nanami obeys your command and quickly stands. You hook under his waistband and yank them off. His thick cock stands at attention, nearly smacking you across the face. It’s a bashful red to base, glazed fat head dribbling precome down his heavy balls. He looks like he’ll unravel at any second. You bring a digit to his balls and it twitches. Dragging it up the veiny shaft, gathering his salty mess to spread it over your held out tongue. He stifles a faint shudder.

“Baby, let me put the condom on.” At least you didn’t have to worry about bringing your own. You wrap your hand around his head, enough tension to be sure he doesn’t find comfort. You rub a thumb over it and his breaths yield shallow.

“Hm? Why?” you ask, batting your eyelashes as you deliver a small lick. He hitches.

“D-don’t.”

“You don’t wanna feel my mouth?” He bites his lip, probably thinking about your pretty face gagging with a mouthful of him. You know the real reason why he won’t, and it’s rather cute that he’d save his release.

“I-I do. God, I really do. But I-”

“But what...?” You swirl it once, and he can’t even handle that.

“C-condom” he whimpers, almost pleading. “Condom...what?”

“Condom please. Please.”

“Go get it.” He makes sheepish haste to his coat, returning with a gold wrapper. He’s about to rip it but you stop him.

“Give it to me.” You tear it open with your teeth and position it over the head. Rolling it over, pursuing it with tantalizing, soft kisses. You feel him pulsing against your lips until you’ve secured the condom at the base. He swallows dry and his stomach recoils on nothing. You enjoy his needier display.

“C’mere sweetheart” you tempt, luring his body to loom over you. He pushes your legs back and spreads you wide. “I’ll take it slow.”

His brows crumble, jaw wedged, angled at your pussy. It’s already soaking him and he hasn’t put it in yet. You do your best to make him ease up, a hand placed over his. But as it dips into you, Nanami’s chewing his lip, going haggard before it ever started. He stops completely, an effort to compose himself even when he’s growing stiff and melty at merely the tip.

“Just g-give me a second” he stammers, and you stay still while he slides the first inch into your creamy, chubby cunt. Stretching and clenching around him in a sappy sluice, he has to pause again, quivering in place. “Fuck-“

Nanami moves a few inches and his hearts beating out of his chest. Foggy, sensual weight sticks to the edges of his brain and coils in his leaden sack.

“I-I don’t know if…” A mouthwatering, snug fit, pulling him deeper. He’s grinding the rest in, but every time he gets a little further his throat bobs and he tenses. You’re molding to his length, encapsulating him in squelching fire, and he’s never felt anything like it in his life. Once he’s flush with you, he sighs, beating a fraction of the battle.

He starts at an agonizing pace. It’s not doing him any favors—now he has to suffer through every sloppy drag, walls committing his veins to memory in a tight, addictive grip. He caresses your face.

“I’m sorry. Bear w-with me” he whines, and you hold your hand over his. You’re not doing it intentionally, but watching him fall apart is truly a sight to behold—strands glued to his forehead, pussy-whipped fawn eyes lost in your warmth. You guide his fingers to your mouth and deliberately suck on them. Cruel of you, but it’s worth it for his wobbly whimpers, his delirious, thrumming cock. You know he won’t last.

“No- Haaah, I can’t yet.” His hips lurch, and he holds back yet again. You lock your ankles around his back, giving him no room to fight it. He’s buried deep. “It’s okay, Ken. You can come.”

Ken. Nanami loses it on the spot, coming instantly in a string of curses and delicate moans.

“Shit- oh my god. Baby- oh, haa-ah-“ he cries, but his other thoughts spill out of him in soupy babbles. His movements stutter and you still milk him dry. He’s throwing his head back shaking and you gently massage his waist until he comes down. It takes some time.

“You okay?” You feel him half-flaccid inside, and he’s panting on the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry” You brush the hair from his face.

“Don’t be sorry about anything.” You kiss his forehead when suddenly your legs are being forced back.

“Wanna keep going” he says, a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Take a breather first.” He’s stuck in the irrational corners of his thoughts—every waking idea engulfed in the thought of you. He’s mumbling to himself, beginning to swing his discordant hips again. His voice cracks, body pushed past overexertion.

“Call me Ken” he whimpers, sticky squelches meeting your bodies in a tangled, milky net.

“Ken” you whisper, a flirtatious tint in your tone. He’s entranced by you. You’re touching foreheads, and he shamelessly mewls like a slut in your ear through every gooey plap.

“How long have you liked me?”

“Since we’ve m-met” he drones, finding a sopping rhythm. “I was scared. I thought- ah- you might not like me.”

“So, you’ve been waiting for this?”

“F-fuck, yeah. Ah- feels so good. Even better than my dreams” he prattles.

You cup his face. “You dream of me?”

“Uh-huh. Makin’ a mess of this pretty pussy. It’s so much better. So, so fucking good.”

“Hold on.” He leans on the couch, legs bent on either side of you as he positions you like a pretzel.

“Need it” he moans, slathered in your cuddly embrace. He’s hardening again, quick, and already skirting an addictive torture.

He pulls out and drives his sack flush. It knocks the wind out of you, and you claw his back as he fucks with reckless abandon.

Slurring a plethora of unhinged ‘more’s, he pistons inside, base to head, ass rippling against his savage thrusts. Every vast, violent stroke sends an intoxicating burn to your sweltering cervix. A while film bubbles at his sack where he’s pummeling, jaw slack and doe-eyed.

Your toes curl, hypersensitive nerves teased and flipped, ruined by his adamant cockhead kissing your g-spot. You’re stretched past your limits, fluttering helplessly around him. His corrupted smile curves against your neck bursting with need.

“Taking me so well, darling. I might come. C-can-hah-can I baby? Can I come for you?” He’s impossibly fast, funneling whines and nasty slaps. The rabid force bangs the couch against the wall and you’re at his mercy.

“Mhm, g-go ahead Ken.” Waves of white-hot pleasure fizzle and spark on your skin, and you’re putty with the weight of him bouncing you.

“Thank you, t-thank you-you’re so good t-to me.” He’s ragged, plummeting to the hilt. Your spasms sap him as he trembles, succumbing to your own orgasm. He grapples heavy, mean strokes, sticky laces bonding his tightening balls. Then he sobs, quaking until he comes.

He doesn’t pull out. You’re both quiet for a while. On a descent, simply delighting in the comfortable silence. You join in another smooch.

“(Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You glance at the time; way past midnight. He meets your gaze. After everything you did, you’re worried over one question.

“Can we get to know each other?”

He smiles, a kiss to your neck.

“I would love to.”

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen au #this fic finished me tbh #i havent wrote smut in so long #srry if its scuffed lol

276 notes · View notes

latenightdaydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Homeless reader pickpockets König and gets caught? Instead of taking her to the police he takes her home? She's a spitfire, and he likes it.

🌶

König x Thief (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master Lister

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, unprotected, breasts f-ing

2.5k word count

💳

König walks late at night along the busy city streets to blow off steam. People watching is something he enjoys doing, curious how others live their lives so…simply. There is a heavy weight on his shoulders, the lives of other people in his hands to protect or to take. In a way, he envy’s these people to live without true knowledge of what the world's governments do behind closed doors.

A woman in a black baggy shirt and jeans catches his eyes, you. You move as if you’re trying to blend into the darkness, your eyes darting to everyone studying them the way he is. Who are you? Why are you acting so odd?

As he walks on, his icy blue eyes move from you and continue to people watch. Your eyes fall on the tall man in what looks like a basic black shirt, but you have a keen eye for designer things. The watch on his left wrist hinting at the gold mine inside his wallet. When he gets close enough, you turn out of the storefront you were lingering in, passing König.

The feeling of your smaller body bumping his snapped his eyes in your direction. You look up at him with a warm smile. “Pardon me.” Your voice and demeanor are extremely bubbly, different from the vibes you were previously giving to him.

König looks down at you with no emotion and ignores your words. A few steps later, he stops, putting his hand in his pocket. Empty. He quickly spins around to see you trying to blend into the crowd. A smirk plays across König’s lips as he realizes he’s been robbed. He quickly turns, following you at a distance.

Thinking the man was none the wiser, there was a cocky arrogance in the way you moved. The wallet was safely secured in my satchel. You quickly turn to an alleyway that leads you back towards your tent.

König stalks closely behind without you noticing. For being a thief, you lack spatial awareness. Someone could easily follow you, come up behind you and grab you. Such easy prey. He reaches his massive, calloused hand out, grabbing you by your arm, and spinning you to face him.

“Wallet. Now.” He towers over you by well over a foot, his eyes piercing into your own. One hand extended to accept the wallet back.

“Let me go! I don’t have your wallet.” You struggle as if you’re truly innocent, hoping he will just think that he is mistaken and go away. What you don’t know is that you picked the wrong target.

“I’ll demand nicely once more. My wallet. Now.”

Once you realize he isn’t buying your innocent act, you try to stomp his foot to run away. It worked countless times before. You lower the heel of your boot down as hard as you possibly can and prepare to run. The man didn’t even flinch, his eyes still gazing deeply into your own when you look up.

“Let me go!”

“Give me my stuff!” He shouts, his booming voice causing you to give up the hold on his wallet.

You dig into your satchel for his dark brown leather wallet. With an attitude, you slam into the palm of his hand. König feels a heat growing in his loin. This tiny little feisty thief isn’t scared of him? He looks at the defiant look on your face and takes in how attractive your features look this close up.

“You have your wallet, now let me go!” You try to pull your arm away from his hand but his grip is unpleasantly firm.

“You know I could have you arrested right? You just robbed a military Colonel.”

“I gave you your shit back!”

Even with the knowledge of his status, you’re still disrespectful. A deep laugh rumbles from König’s stomach as he looks down at you. “I like you. You’ve got spirit. How about I make you a deal?” König walks into you, forcing you against the brick wall behind you. “I won’t report you if you come home with me.”

A playful smirk pulls at your lips. “You want to fuck me?”

“Is that a problem for you?” König’s voice is low and sensual as his eyes drop to your pillowy lips. “Just one night. I’ll even pay you.”

“I’m not a whore.” You say defensively.

“I never said you were; I’m just offering a gift. A gift for allowing me to have you… if you will.”

“How much?”

“More than you would have gotten from my wallet.” König’s tone is playful as he sees in your eyes that you’re actually considering doing this.

“Fine. You’re not going to try and kill me, are you?” You ask half joking.

“I don’t hurt innocent delicate creatures such as yourself.” König moves his masked face to your neck, slowly breathing in your sweaty musk. “I’ll return you safely, and a few thousand dollars richer.”

Thousand piques your interest. You take a few seconds to think about it before looking around you. “Fine. I’ll entertain you for the night.”

“Perfect.” König smiles down at you. “Come with me.” His hand slides down from grabbing your arm to intertwining his fingers with yours. He turns away from the alleyway and begins to walk towards his home.

“What’s your name, Liebling?”

“Y/n. You?”

“I’m König.”

It takes about a twenty-minute walk to get to König’s home. You gaze around at his home, simply decorated but you can tell it’s all high-end luxury. This man really is wealthy. You feel König’s hand on your lower back as he guides you to the staircase, up to his bedroom.

“What are you wanting?” You ask him, unsure of how to go about this transaction.

“Just a normal night. As if we are truly lovers.”

You stand and watch as he undresses. He takes his boots off, pulling down his snipper mask, exposing his face to you. His blonde hair is messy with an angular face scarred and aquiline nose. Taking in his rugged appearance, you admit to yourself that he is quite attractive. Your eyes follow his hands to the hem of his shirt, his body sculpted and powerful.

König drops his pants last, stepping out of them as they drop to his ankles. “Come here.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to him. His free hand reaches for the hem of your shirt, putting his hand underneath to feel your soft skin. Your muscles tense at his touch, his tenderness surprising for you.

As his eyes meet your, he pulls up your shirt. You lift your arms up as he slides your shirt off of your body, his hands quickly wrapping around your waist, caressing your silky-smooth skin. His hands gently glide up your back until he feels your bra, unhooking it and slowly guiding it off of your body. The way your breasts naturally fall when your bra comes away from your body is simply perfection.

König’s leave a trail down your neck to your breasts, holding each one in his hands as he drops to his knees in front of you. His mouth hungrily latches to your nipple, sucking a licking, taking his time on each one. “You have such lovely nipples.” He groans into your skin.

Slowly, his hands drop down from your breasts, caressing your stomach before undoing your jeans. He pulls them down to your knees, moving one of his hands between your legs. There is a wet patch on your panties already forming.

“Mien Gott, you’re so wet. I have to taste you.” In almost a rush he pulls down your underwear and drops lower on your body. He shoves his face between your supple thighs, flicking his tongue out against any part of your pussy he could reach. Once he got a small taste of your sweet creamy cunt, he needed more.

König pulls back, grabbing at your shoes and tossing them to the side before pulling your jeans off completely. He grabs one of your legs and pulls it over his shoulder. You fall off balance, reaching out for him to stabilize yourself. His hands reach behind you and grasps your ass, squeezing as his tongue flicks over your cunt again.

Tiny moans flow from your lips as your head drops back. Your hands hold his head to your pussy as your feel his tongue move in circles and twist around your clit. You allow yourself to truly relax and enjoy the pleasure you’re receiving.

“I want to feel you, bury myself deep inside of this pussy.” He groans as he pulls back to gaze up at you. His eyes portray how in lust he is with you right now. It’s been nearly six years’ since he’s touched a woman and here you are; an angel from heaven simply fell into his lap.

König stands with your leg still over his shoulder, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, his hands holding you firmly by your rear. A surprised gasping giggle leaves your lips as he walks you to the bed. He places you down gently onto the bed, pulling down his boxers once his hands are free.

With your body pulled towards the edge of the bed, he grabs your thighs and pulls your legs back. He moves his hips to line his cock up with your vagina. His cock next to your cunt make you look so small. The rush of excitement that flows through him is unmatched by anything he’s felt in a long time.

Slowly, he pushes forward. His eyes focused on your face, watching the way your eyes widen slightly as the head of his cock parks your folds and slips into your tiny little cunt. A soft moan escapes you as your hands grab your legs, assisting in pulling them back.

König’s eyes watch your stomach and breasts before going back up to your eyes, watching as the pleasure floods your body. Your pupils expand, covering the color of your irises almost completely. Such a beautiful sight.

His hips roll slowly into you at first, letting you get adjusted to the size of his cock. He’s aware that he’s above average and doesn’t want to push you too far. Dropping his gaze, he watches the way his cock stretches your pussy lips apart, your walls hugging his cock tightly.

“König, yes.” You moan as your fingers dig into your legs, struggling to keep it together as he fucks you.

“Such a pretty voice.” He says breathlessly as he begins to pick up his pace, the small slapping sound of skin on skin being added to the beautiful melody of your moans. The feeling of you clenching around him drives him mad. “If you keep that up, I won’t last long.” König warns.

“Please don’t cum yet, your cocks so fucking good.”

König looks down at you with a low groan, his eyebrows pinch together, and he shakes his head. “Your cunt’s too tight, so fucking wet.” His hips move more rapidly as one hand moves to cup your breast, pinching your nipping between his fingers as he squeezes.

The fat on your thighs ripple as he slams into you. Your stomach and breasts look soft and inviting. You can feel your own wetness drip down from your pussy to your ass, wetting the bed sheets beneath you. König closes his eyes and drops his head back; a strong buildup of ecstasy takes over and he can’t ignore it.

He pulls out, to your disappointment, and pulls your legs more so that you're almost off of the bed. Grabbing your breasts, he rests his wet cock between them and begins to thrust forward. You spit on your breasts to add lubrication for him. His hands squeeze your breasts almost painfully tightly together.

A loud growl leaves his throat as he looks down at your breasts, completely swallowing his cock. One of your hands drops to your pussy to rub your clit in quick small circles. “Fuck!” König groans as he picks up his pace.

“Open your mouth.”

He steps back, jerking his cock quickly, focusing on the tip of his cock. A few small moans leave his lips before a spurt of his warm cum shoots out and lands in your mouth, dripping down your bottom lip. A few more land across your breasts and on your face.

You lean forward and suck the tip of his cock, swallowing the rest of his cum. König’s muscles twitch as your mouth wraps around his head, your tongue circling it and making it clean. “God, y/n. You’re driving me crazy. Get on the bed, bent over.”

An excited look appears in your eyes as you realize he isn’t done with you yet. You stand, cum still on you, and bend over his bed. König walks up behind you, gazing at the heart shape your ass makes when you bend over like this. His large hand caresses the plumpness before he lines himself up with you again.

“I want to feel you cum on my cock.” König says before shoving his cock back inside of you.

The next morning you are waken up by the sun peaking through the curtains. You feel König’s muscular arms holding you close to him still, his head resting on your own as he breathes deeply. From where you lay, you can see his expensive watch resting on his dresser, you slowly start to take in everything in the room and think about how much money you could get from pawning all of it. But then your eyes land on König peacefully asleep and feel guilty for wanting to take form him. He’s been surprisingly…kind.

Your eyes go back to his watch, then back to him. With a deep sigh, you push his arms away from your body gently and sneak out of bed. Still naked you wake to his dresser and grab the watch to look at it more closely.

König feels you move so he opens one eye slightly to watch what you’re doing. He sees you holding the watch, inspecting it. His heart sinks slightly at the fact that he’s trusting you in his home and yet you are doing this. Instead of stopping you, he just pretends to sleep still, seeing what you would do.

He can feel the weight of your small body joining him back in bed. You move slowly so as to not wake König up, but his arms grab you, pulling you back to him. “I can buy you your own Hermès, if that’s what you’d like.”

You can feel your stomach drop, he saw you looking at his watch. “I wasn’t going to take it.” A lie, and you know he knows it’s one.

“I’m just letting you know; I can take care of you. You don’t have to steal anymore.” His sleepy voice is low and raspy. He reaches out and caresses the side of your face as you gaze at him with a guilty look on your face.

“We can go shopping before I drop you off.” König insists as he stretches, sitting up.

A small smile spreads across your lips as you realize you’ve landed in the lap of luxury. König is happy to share his wealth with you and you’re happy to accept it.

Part 2

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #könig x reader #konig smut #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig cod #konig x y/n #cod smut #konig x reader smut #smut #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #cod konig

428 notes · View notes

iheartmapi · 5 months ago

Text

Norwegian Holiday

Ingrid Engen x Reader

Summary: For the first time, you and your girlfriend go on holiday to her country.

Fluff.

TW: none expect probably kinda shitty depiction of Norwegian culture (I’ve never been there don’t @ me)

Word count: 968

“The charm’s hidden in the small towns, kjæreste”

The brunette beside you remarked as your train slowly approached it’s destination.

“Well, I’m gonna have to trust you on this one, Ing…”

As the vehicle came to a stop the two of you raised from your seats and gathered your bags, there wasn’t a lot of commotion, after all why should there be when you picked out a tiny town to visit…but well you were enthusiastic about this holiday anyways. Ingrid lead you, though she haven’t been here before she could actually read the signs you passed by.

You fished out your phone from your bag, “Uh babe we rented the hotel on your phone right?” She turned to look at you, as the two of you managed to navigate into one of the towns streets, “I think so, let me check, can you get my phone for me?” You listened and then started the tumultuous act of searching for Ingrid’s phone in your guy’s travel bag, finally you handed the mobile to her.

As Ingrid searched for the reservation, or rather the hotels name so that google maps could help you out, you stood by her, observing the buildings that littered the street, and the might mountains that surrounded the town…this place was almost like a very cozy fairytale “Aha!” Ingrid beamed, were supposed to gooooo…” she turned and turned before pointing in the correct way “We’re supposed to go there” the brunette took hold of your arm and lead the way “So hasty..” you chuckled, “We’ve got no time to lose!” Ingrid beamed.

Thankfully, you didn’t get lost and got to register at the hotel, your rooms were nice, the mattress was the perfect balance between hard and soft, and the decor? Well there wasn’t really much to say about it, it was regular, kind of genderless and beige really.

Of course the moment everything was checked off the two of you got dressed and left the hotel to go exploring, this time leaving google maps behind to just see the town for yourself.

The first thing you and Ingrid thought was necessary to see, was the town’s square.

From the very middle; there was a nicely carved stone fountain, really just plain space, some benches and then the building that surrounded it…shops, cafes, restaurants the likes. “Stand there, I wanna take your picture, pretty girl” Ingrid smiled, you cheerfully pranced around to pose in front of the fountain for Ingrid’s phone’s lenses, after a couple clicks the two of you continued on strolling around.

“Feeling the Norwegian spirit already?” Ing playfully nudged you, you smirked “Definetily, oh I need to get me some kitschy Viking souvenir!” At that comment she scoffed “So stereotypical of you” you just winked at your girlfriend and said “Whatever you say, Viking lady” to which she just nudged you again and you laughed.

Trying Norwegian food was a must have on your list, so not too soon after you made your way to a restaurant, your eyes skimmed across the menu, trying to pronounce the foreign to you words as Ingrid had a laughing fit at your butchered words.

Then with some help from Ingrid you chose a dish called “Kjøttkaker med brunsaus”, a seemingly simple recipe. The waiter soon brought your orders to the table and left you to live this delicious moment.

You stick your fork into the meat on the plate and took a dramatic breath “Here goes nothing…” you munched on the meat cakes, wanting to savour the taste..after a moment of thoughtfulness you decided on “This is quite good actually”

Ingrid’s mouth curved upwards “I’m happy you like it” before continuing on eating her own meal, “You’ll have to make this for me when we get back home, Ingy!” You remarked joyfully, “Alright alright” she laughed at your liveliness “Calm your horses and finish eating first”

Towns square, restaurant and now a souvenir shop because you begged Ingrid to see it when you spotted it…you scanned the Viking-y souvenirs, from hats to cups, there were many things to choose from…Ingrid herself paced around the building, observing the assortment of the shop before returning to you, “So?” She asked “You getting anything?” You turned to Ingrid with a comical seriousness “I’m torn between the Viking hat and the Viking cup” Ingrid raised an eyebrow “I’m assuming you’re expectantly waiting for me to say you can get both?” You nodded “There’s no limit for what you want babe, if you want it buy it” you reached for the “viking” hat and put it on your head “I was afraid the amount of kitsch I wanted would annoy you” Ingrid just rolled her eyes and patted your now covered head “It’s you, I couldn’t get mad even if I wanted to.”

So you bought the things you wanted, put them in your bag for walking around and went on with your exploration of the small town. The rest was really just you two appreciating the views and architecture, or entering places you thought looked interesting..

The day flowed smoothly and soon you found yourself sitting on a bench with a view of the lake by the town, waffles in your and Ingrid’s hands.

“This is like…so pretty it’s crazy” you said as you munched on your waffle

“Chew before you speak babe…” Ingrid sighed at your childishness (but with a smile on her face)

“fine fine!” You finished the piece and swallowed “Now as I said, the views are crazy here”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying Norway” your girlfriend smiled even wider, her eyes crinkling “You know I care about your happiness the most”

“Oh don’t you make me blush…” you added “You’re already outshining this landscape” you winked before getting back to devouring your waffle

“You’re such a dummy…”

#barca femeni x reader #woso community #woso x reader #barca women #wlw #woso appreciation #woso fanfics #fanfic #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #fluff

207 notes · View notes

kaysithekoolest · 4 months ago

Text

Remy LeBeau x Autistic Reader

I don't think any disability or neurodivergence would deter his charismatic spirit.

Remy doesn't mind your quirks and special interests.

He'll listen to you go on for hours about your new favorite hyperfixation. He will most definitely sit through every hour long slide show on your new favorite piece of media, only butting in to ask questions.

He definitely felt bad the first time he scared you with his mutation. When he first met you, he tried to impress you with a fiery hot pink explosion. He didn't know the noise would frighten you.

Nowadays, Remy always gives you a heads up on when he's gonna explode something.

He is always the king of naming things. Bring him a stuffed animal or figurine without one and within seconds he will have found the perfect title.

This also goes for when he forgets the names of certain behaviors you have.

"Mon chére, why are you... What are ya conundrum-ing about?"

In English, he was trying to figure out why you were stimming.

On another note, he had a terrible memory (probably due to all those lobotomies...)

And you tell him to remember something for you and you will never hear it again. He won't even remember if it was written on his face.

He will have to set a timer/reminder on something to remind himself what you had told him to remind you. It's a whole thing

Despite his forgetful memory, he remembers all your favorite things, like your favorite color, show, animal, ect

And Remy still loves to get you things. Occasionally "Getting" something from somewhere for you to play or fidget with. If it's something really important to either you or him, he'll buy it

"It reminded Gambit of his favourite Belle mutante..." Remy purred against your ear as his slipped a mysterious trinket into your open hands. When you looked down, peeking at it. You saw it was a soft fuzzy mochi toy of your favourite animal.

Remy also struggles to read the room, often cracking a joke at an inappropriate time. So that he can't help much with either.

But he can read you well. Even if you aren't speaking. He's able to tell if you're uncomfortable or confused.

Over all, Remy tries his damn hardest to make you feel welcomed and happy at the X-Mansion and wherever you go with him. He doesn't mind your quirks or behaviors. He's just happy you're you and with him. 💜 🃏🖤

@mushroom-stand

#gambit #remy lebeau x male reader #gambit x reader #x men #x men 97 #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau #gambit x male reader #Kool Kid Kreations 🦇🧛

139 notes · View notes

reiniesainyo · 11 months ago

Text

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

269 notes · View notes

spinxeret · 2 years ago

Text

+ @spirit-x-ing liked for a starter !

+ " Honestly, I love how everyone seems to think that it was PETER'S fault this took so long to happen . " Mary Jane said, shaking her head just a little bit. As much as everyone seemed to think the HOLDUP had been purely a result of her fiancé, in truth, she'd been the one to say ' NO ' twice . How she'd managed to keep him REIGNED in enough for a third go around was still a MYSTERY , even to her . None of it really MATTERED now, given the engagement ring squarely on her finger . " I swear people's HEADS just explode when they find out it was all on ME . "

#spirit x ing #verse: tbd #( blog event. the wedding )

4 notes · View notes

elodee · 8 months ago

Text

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 23

TangoTek x Yu-Gi-Oh

For Tango I picked Yu-Gi-Oh!!

Most people know Yu-Gi-Oh! as a cartoon and card game, but in the original story the pharoah spirit who possesses Yugi is known as the King of Games, as in, all games. So who better to represent Yu-Gi-Oh! than the creator and dungeon master of Decked Out, the ultimate game within a game?

To learn more about Yu-Gi-Oh! and see my style references, continue below the cut.

@hermitadaymay

(The King of Games would definitely donate to Gamers Outreach)

Yu-Gi-Oh! is a manga and anime series about a boy named Yugi Mutou who solves a cursed puzzle from ancient Egypt and is then possessed by the spirit of a ruthless Pharoah who has lost all his memories.

"Ruthless?" I can hear fans of the anime saying. "The Pharoah is a good guy!"

Incorrect! He only becomes a good guy later. Early on he is literally Ancient Egyptian Jigsaw.

In the manga, the Pharoah takes over Yugi's body whenever Yugi is in danger, whether he wants it or not, and manipulates people into agreeing to rigged, high stakes Shadow Games. Once they inevitably lose, he traps them in a Penalty Game (a poetic justice torture scenario) for the rest of their lives or possibly all of eternity depending on the situation. It's really messed up! Highlights of early Yu-Gi-Oh Penalty Games include:

Lighting a guy on fire

Blinding a guy

Telltale Heart-ing a guy

Driving a guy so crazy his rips out his own eye

Blowing a guy up

Envenomating a guy with his own pet scorpion

Electrocuting people

Forcing a guy to endure an illusion of eternal zombie attacks

Trapping people in hell forever

...and more!

The show is way more family friendly and follows a significantly mellowed-out Pharoah and his friends as they battle bad guys with card games that summon monsters to fight on their behalf. It's pretty fun an campy!

However, Yu-Gi-Oh! the show is fairly well known so I also wanted to take this opportunity to introduce everyone to season 0 manga Pharoah, who is literally a serial killing ghost with a gambling problem that's possessing a 16 year old.

If you had an Egyptology phase as a kid, give Yu-Gi-Oh! a watch. If you watched Yu-Gi-Oh! as a kid, go read the early manga.

Style references:

There he is, the King of Games. The heart of the cards guides him but he also full on just, like, cheats too.

Malik, on the left, and Bakura, on the right. These two are villains from the show who are also teenagers possessed by (evil) Egyptian spirits that were trapped in cursed metal knick-knacks. Everyone in this show has Hair with a capital H.

The Yu-Gi-Oh! title design.

#I will never forget opening the manga as a kid and being absolutely delighted at how unhinged the Pharoah is #he'd see Hannibal kill and eat a guy and be like #well they WERE pretty rude #anyway for Tango I used the anime version #who is all noble and stuff #and still the king of games #which tango also is #the king of games I mean #not an amnesic serial killer #tangotek #hermitcraft #hermitaday

182 notes · View notes

gravehags · 8 months ago

Text

smitten by the blackest force

Pairing: Mary Goore x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: witch reader, cemetery sex, deals with the devil, rough sex, devil's marks, mary goore being some kind of supernatural being...?

Words: 2,861

Summary: If this is your Mephistopheles well...just call you Doctor Faustus.

a/n: mary please return my calls i desperately need to get fucked in a cemetery. mary are you there? mary?

~~~

You like this cemetery.

It’s old. Quiet. Set back in the oak trees off the dirt road with ivy entwined in the wrought-iron fencing. You liked to come here often - even on the occasions where you weren’t conducting rituals - sometimes packing a sandwich and an Arizona tea and just sitting on the grass - keeping the spirits whose names have long worn off the headstones company. You’ve never seen anyone else visit but somehow the grass is always trimmed back, never overgrown. Even the local teenagers don’t fuck with this place, your little hideout, and for that you’re extremely grateful. There are some rumors among the townspeople about devil worshippers in the area but considering the questionable nature of your own practice, you aren’t too worried about them (if they even exist at all.)

Right now you’ve got a blanket spread out to sit on, a knitted shawl around your shoulders, and your various bottles and crystals surrounding you. You hauled out a few camping lanterns from your car to keep the spot well-lit as the sun dips down below the forested horizon. Sighing you lay back against the blanket beneath you, breathing in the evening air and the quiet.

Snap.

The sound has you shooting up, clutching your shawl and eyes darting. The only thing you can hear is the sound of nature around you - crickets and cicadas. You open your mouth with the intention of asking if anyone is there before you promptly close it, thinking better of it. You’ve been out here at night before - countless times - and never encountered anything sinister but you’re not stupid and inviting anything in. Besides, you think as your shoulders sag, it was probably an animal. You scoot back on your blanket until your back is flush with the tall mossy headstone behind you, feeling more secure with its protection. A few minutes pass and you yawn, watching the blink of fireflies in the distance. You slump against the stone, and you feel so cozy and content as your eyelids slide close you only vaguely register the low chuckle coming from somewhere behind you. You’re in the beginning stages of drifting off when a teasing whistle winds its way through the gravestones. You jolt upwards, head whipping around but neither seeing nor hearing anything. That is, until a soft tsk-ing sound comes from behind you and you watch as thick, beat-up boot soles stroll into your line of vision. You crawl away from the person, heart thundering in your chest and your anxiety thrumming through your veins reminding you that you’re probably going to die. When the figure stops at a nearby tall headstone and leans back against it, crossing their legs at the ankles, they speak.

“Kind of a shitty witch who falls asleep in a fucking cemetery,” they smirk, crossing their arms. Thanks to a nearby lantern you’re able to get a better look at them - skinny, but not tall, wearing torn up jeans and a ratty band shirt with the sleeves cut off. Most of their face is hidden by the messy black lock of hair that hangs down over their forehead but you swear they’re wearing some kind of face paint and was that…blood?

“Who the fuck are you?” you snap, eyes darting around for anything you can use as a weapon.

“Oh she’s a mean little thing,” they crow, pushing off the headstone and stepping towards you. The panic is really starting to set in and you wonder if you’d be able to make it to one of the lanterns and hit them in th–

“Relax, sweetheart,” they say, crouching into a squat a few feet from you, “if I wanted you dead you’d be dead one of the other dozen times I’ve seen you alone out here.”

Your blood runs cold as you remind yourself there are things worse than death.

“You’ve been watching me? W-where there’s never anyone around–”

“Forest is big,” they say casually, dropping to their knees and sitting back on their haunches. “Lots of spots between the trees. And I’m real quiet.”

All of this is…troubling information to say the least but their first words stand out to you.

“How did you know I’m a witch?”

They nod, large pale hands resting on their thighs.

“We’ve been watching you for a while. Kind of a…local weirdo in this area, aren’t you? Small town shit seems a little beneath someone like you.”

You snort.

“I like the quiet. And most people mind their fucking business out here. Sorry, did you say ‘we’ve’ been watching?”

“Oh yeah, y’know, the uh,” they bring their hands up to their head and make horns with their fingers, “devil worshippers.”

Huh.

Intriguing.

You scoot a little closer to them and notice the way their full lips twitch in a minute smile.

“The old folk of the town talk about you guys but I never gave it any credence. Thought it was just leftover Satanic panic horseshit from the eighties.”

“Mmm well,” they begin, “we’re not your typical uh…Satan worshippers. It’s kind of more of a big deal than that. Actually, a lot of a big deal.”

“Oh yeah?” There's something magnetic about this slender creature whose green eyes glint in the lantern light. While you’re not necessarily soothed by their presence you cannot deny that you are drawn in.

“Yeah,” they confirm, “I’ll tell you more about it later but uh, let’s talk about you, huh?”

“What about me?” you ask, some of your caution returning.

“Well we’ve seen what you do. Got eyes on you. And we’d like to offer you a place at the Ministry. Our practices aren’t so different, are they?”

No, you think to yourself, no they’re not. You’re no stranger to demon work and after all what is Lucifer but the demon to end all demons? And all your dealings with them have always led to successful rituals and outcomes.

“So what do I get out of it? And why didn’t you just come to my house or my work to ask me all this?”

The slightly sinister chuckle that comes out of them stirs something within you.

“Protection. Power. The ability to do whatever you want, whenever you want to. A home.”

That last one hits you hard but you stay silent.

“Are you interested?”

A moment passes.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I want to live deliciously or whatever?”

They tilt their head back and laugh, slapping their thighs with their palms.

“Haven’t told you how we seal the deal yet, sweetheart.”

“Oh? And that would be…?”

“A surprise. Which you’ll find out about when you answer my question. Are you in?”

You were supposed to be charging your crystals in the moonlight and collecting cemetery dirt tonight, not making a fucking deal with the Devil. But, you think as you look at the figure eyeing you intently, everything happens for a reason.

“Yes. Yes I’m in.”

They give you a wide, sharp grin.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, gorgeous. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Before you can ask what they mean, they’re crawling towards you like some kind of spindly cryptid. You’d be lying if it didn’t arouse you even as you back up against a headstone with nowhere else to go.

“C’mon sweetheart,” they purr, wrapping their fingers around your ankle. “Time to give the Devil his due.”

You yelp as they yank your body towards them, their hand sliding along the curve of your calf and up to your knee.

“And you’re the Devil are you?” you breathe, watching them slither up your body and settle between your legs.

“Me? Nah. I’m just the poster guy who gets to reap all the rewards.”

“And what do I call you?”

They lean in to inhale deep at the juncture of your neck and shoulder and you have to bite back a moan.

“Wanna know what name you’ll be screaming out tonight, huh?”

“Think pretty highly of yourself,” you murmur, bringing a hand up to drag your fingernails along their back. When they growl and grind their denim-covered cock against you, you grin.

“You’re awfully mouthy, aren’t you?”

“Thought you wanted to hear my voice?”

They’ve got their hands on the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing the skin of your belly, when they look at you with a wicked smile.

“Take this off before I rip it off,” they growl, raising the fabric insistently. You gleefully acquiesce, watching their eyes boggle as your bare breasts sway in front of them. Leaning back on your elbows you blink innocently up at them, watching their tongue dart out to smear the paint near their lips.

“Fucking finally,” they grouse before falling upon you and taking your pebbled nipple in their mouth.

“You–ah–never answered my question.”

They slide off your breast and grin up at you.

“Call me Mary.”

There’s no softness in their attentions, all hard sucking and teeth nipping but fuck if it isn’t exactly what you need. It’s been a while - much longer than you’d like to admit - ever since you moved to this podunk little town. The selection wasn’t exactly uh, bountiful. You’ve got your head tilted back as they suck pretty dark bruises into your flesh but when they give your unattended nipple a sharp pinch your eyes fly to theirs.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want you to remember exactly who fucked you this good.”

You laugh.

“Haven’t done any fucking yet, have you? I’m withholding my judgment.”

Instantly, they pull away and sit back on their haunches.

“You little bitch,” they crow with a crooked grin, “Oh you’re gonna be fun to have around.”

You’ve propped yourself up once more, watching Mary as they rub the bulge in their jeans.

“Drooling a little, huh baby?”

Maybe. But you’ll be damned if they know it.

“Yeah, out of boredom. Are you gonna sit there rubbing one out all night?”

They squeeze their cock, grinning down at you.

“Maybe I should fill your mouth instead of your cunt? Stuff you so full of me you’ll really be drooling. I’ll shut you up then, huh?”

You’re not totally opposed to the idea but the ache between your thighs needs attention before any other extracurricular activities occur.

“I’ll be good–” you say, reaching down to wiggle your joggers and underwear off your hips. When the heat of you is exposed to their gaze, you slide your fingers between your folds to gather the slick that has accumulated. Satisfied, you raise your hand to your mouth and slowly slide the digits between your lips onto your tongue, “--I promise.”

Mary’s panting now, the heavy rise and fall of their chest hypnotic as they drink you in. They’ve still got their hand to their bulge, lazily squeezing their cock through the fabric. Suddenly their fingers are viciously unbuttoning and unzipping their pants and you both sigh as they take their cock out. It’s a pretty thing, all red and swollen and dripping, and you know it’s going to look even prettier inside you. They stroke it, smearing the pre down the shaft with their lips curled into a grin.

“That’s all it takes to make you pipe down? A nice dick?”

“Who said anything about it being nice?” you say, but your breathy tone gives away your true feelings. They look altogether too pleased with themselves as they scoot forward and drag the tip through your wet folds. When they nudge your clit with the head your hips buck up and you whine.

“Now that’s more like it,” they smirk, pressing against your entrance. “Beg for it,” they snarl, pushing in the tip.

“Fuck Mary, please. I need it, need your fucking cock to fill me up, please, please, please.”

They laugh, the sound jarring in the near darkness.

“Damn, could’ve stopped at the first ‘please’ but you sounded so pretty doing it, think I’ll give you an extra good ride tonight.”

You’re about to say something caustic but before the words can even leave your mouth, they slam their cock into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. True to their word, they set a brutal pace, gripping your thighs and eyes flicking between your bouncing breasts and where they disappear inside of you.

“B-been awhile, huh?” they pant, hips snapping into yours. “Almost like you’ve been w-waiting for me. Saving it up.”

You don’t have it in you to be snarky anymore, too stuffed dumb. So you nod frantically.

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, “all for you Mare, fuck right there.”

“Shoulda done this weeks ago,” they growl, “Instead of jerking off in the–augh–fucking woods. Never–fuck–never thought you’d be so easy.”

You’re not sure if they mean your deal with the Devil or the fucking but honestly you can’t bring yourself to care about anything right now that isn’t their cock pounding into you at a furious rate. They’re relentless, wrenching noises out of you you didn’t even know you could make. When they drag their hand to where you’re joined and dip a thumb in to rub at your clit your body arches off the grass.

“Fuck, Mary!”

“Know you’re close,” they grunt, “can f-feel you. Come on baby, let go. Give yourself to me. Give yourself to Him.”

The entire situation - the damp slide of the grass under your fingertips, the thick night air, the deal you just made, the cock currently hammering inside you - hits you all at once and your hips spasm.

“Don’t stop, Mare, please holy fuck yes, right there.”

Your hands fly to your breasts, cupping the weight of them and viciously pinching at the taut buds, making your lover groan and their hips stutter against you.

“C’mon yeah, play with those pretty fuckin’ tits, sweetheart. Oh fuck.”

You’re clenching around them now as they frantically rub at your clit and piston in and out of you, your moans increasing in volume and pitch. You feel as if you’re levitating, mouth hung open in a silent scream as you come undone, chanting their name.

“That’s it baby,” they snarl, gritting their teeth, “Cum for me, cum all over this cock–ah!”

You’re still riding your own high when you feel their cock twitch inside of you, flooding you with their seed. Their hoarse moans nearly send you into your second orgasm and your eyes slide shut, enjoying the feeling of them emptying inside you when–

They’re gone.

You heave a gasp as if taking a breath after being held underwater, hands flying to the ground beneath you. Mary’s gone–just fucking…gone. The only remnant of them currently dripping out of your used cunt onto the grass. You’re trembling while simultaneously being flooded with warmth as if you’ve been overcome by an awful fever. You ease yourself onto your side and curl into a fetal position, watching a ladybug crawl over the stone next to you. You’re not sure how long you lie there, shivering in the dark, but when your mind finally comes to you see the rosy planes of dawn stretching out through the trees. With great effort you push yourself off the ground - using the headstone for stabilization - your knees nearly giving way when you finally manage to stand. Sluggishly, you pull your underwear and pants up and spot your t-shirt a couple feet away crumpled in a pile. All your little vials and crystals stand as silent witnesses to the depravity that occurred last night and you hastily snatch them up and pile them into your tote bag. Your mind is a haze - too much of a haze to gather the blanket and lanterns - so you stumble out of the gate and head towards your car.

You don’t remember driving home but when you push the door open to the old house you rent, you feel…filthy. You’re not sure if it’s from your encounter with Mary or something else but you know one thing - you desperately need a shower. Your bags get dropped in the living room and you mechanically strip as you head to your bathroom. The shower is just what you needed - the firm stream of scalding hot water on your hair and body rejuvenating. When you step out into your steamy bathroom, you let out a deep sigh. The further you got from the events of last night the more they felt like some kind of wild dream, and you would be content to convince yourself of this were it not for the purple bruises peppered across your breasts that you spotted in the shower. You drop your towel and pad out into your bedroom to look for something clean and comfy to wear when you walk past your full-length mirror and stop dead in your tracks. There’s something on you - you think maybe it’s a tick or mud - so you turn the bedroom light on. High on your thigh, right in the center is a perfectly round mark, the size of a pencil eraser.

You don’t have any birthmarks.

Your stomach floods with panic and you fall to your knees on the rug, still naked and damp.

There’s a knock at your door.

#mary goore x reader #mary goore x female reader #mary goore #rachel writes

112 notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 2 years ago

Text

Pure Math 171

choi seungcheol x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)

synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)

masterlist

(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg

It takes a lot to surprise you.

It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face.

You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick.

Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.

You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course.

You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.

What on Earth was so funny?

Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—

“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill.

You knew that voice.

You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table.

And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol was your professor.

Your boyfriend was your professor.

How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code?

Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does.

Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk.

Oh, he thinks this is hilarious.

His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?”

It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out?

If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke.

But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression.

You might have committed murder that day.

You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.

“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.

“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.”

His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.

“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…”

Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.

You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well.

You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could.

Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself.

“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.

Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee.

Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”

“So did he know?”

“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man.

Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board.

“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”

You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up.

It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible.

You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.

But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline.

It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics.

“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.

There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students.

The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room.

It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.

He remembered quick.

His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row.

You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.

“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.

“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.

“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor”

“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being.

You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap.

Bastard.

The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight.

“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”

“What the fuck.”

“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit.

It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt.

No, you're mad at him.

“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.

“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.”

“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!”

“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—”

“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.

He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?”

Wait, what.

“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.

“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.

You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about?

Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around.

The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours.

“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”

“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall.

Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.

There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.

“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.

“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.”

“Does your girl get premium access?”

“Hm, maybe.”

Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest.

There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold.

Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.

“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.

Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?”

“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows.

His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder.

You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him.

You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time.

700 notes · View notes