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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

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young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…”

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

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“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.”

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom.

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?”

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?”

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.”

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.”

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd.

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch.

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner.

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.”

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries.

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again.

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height.

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp.

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well.

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach.

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder.

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor.

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into.

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone.

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you.

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown.

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step.

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself.

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing.

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways.

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear.

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...”

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed.

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin.

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core.

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further.

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you.

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner.

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare.

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–”

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.”

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.”

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you.

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…”

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder.

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour.

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear.

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth.

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin.

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear.

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound.

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you.

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?”

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?”

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

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witchywithwhiskey · 19 days ago

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ok so i'm still thinking about the concept of ✨sugar daddy dr. jack abbot✨ but i had some thots (maybe i'll write something longer idk we'll see) 18+ content ahead!

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who pays you extremely well to always be available for when he calls—and he always calls at weird times of the night. you don't mind so much, though, because you're a night owl, and he pays you well enough.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who calls you to come to the hospital sometimes, then sneaks you into a supply closet or an empty room and bangs you against the wall. your hands pressed up against some shelves or the wall, his arm wrapped around the front of your throat, holding you in place while he takes out all his frustration from the night on your tight hole. and all you can do is make soft little 'uh uh uh' noises while he hisses furious, filthy words in your ear.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who calls you when he needs help winding down from a tough night shift. he sits on his couch, the police scanner crackling softly in the corner, while you kneel between his spread thighs, taking your sweet time worshipping his cock. nuzzling his bulge through his pants, pressing soft kisses along the growing shaft before taking him out. then you lavish him with your tongue, tracing the veins and swirling around the tip, trailing back down to suck on his balls. by the time you finally take him in your mouth and work his length as deep as you can take him, jack's shoulders are relaxed and his head is reclined against the back of the couch. he lays a heavy, comforting hand to the crown of your head and guides you to the speed he likes most.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who likes seeing you in pretty pinks, soft purples and pastel blues. so much of his life has been spent in a monotony of earthen camouflage and drab, solid-colored scrubs that he likes seeing you in floral dresses and other pretty clothes, your makeup done to highlight your beautiful face and bright eyes. if he had his way, you'd be clad in nothing but lace and flowers and ribbons—all the prettiest things on the prettiest girl, and all for him.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who doesn't like to go shopping, but he'll take you if you ask (so you don't ask him too often). but he wants to see every single thing you try on. he'll sit in the dressing room, thick arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes devouring your body while you parade around in pretty dresses with flirty skirts, giving a twirl and teasing him with a sneak peek of your panties. he'll be patient, taking you to all the stores you want, but when he gets you home, he's bending you over the nearest available surface before you can do more than drop all the bags full of all the clothes he bought you, sliding inside you and making you cry out, "thank you, dr. abbot!" until he's satisfied.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who loves eating you out so much, he'll do it for hours. at first, your body would writhe and squirm beneath his strong, calloused hands, fighting the pleasure he offered with his lips and his tongue. he'd pin you to the bed, devouring your cunt like a starved man, wringing one orgasm after another out of you, until you're a limp, sated mess. but he wouldn't stop. when you'd reach for him, weakly trying to push him away, he'd lace his fingers with yours, holding your hands hostage while he kept right on eating you, a glint in his brown eyes and a raspy, "c'mon, baby, you can give me another, can't you?" murmured from between your thighs. you'd huff and whine, your fingers twisting in his curly silver hair when he freed your hand to plunge two fingers into your dripping pussy. he'd pull at least another orgasm from you, making you come until your legs are shaking and you're sobbing your pleasure for him.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who isn't the type to buy you flashy gifts, or take you on exotic vacations, but he takes care of you in other ways. he buys you a new phone or laptop when you complain about yours acting up. he keeps his home stocked with all your favorite snacks and drinks, and he'll cook for you when you don't want to—though he likes having you sit on the counter while he does, because he wants you close. he's slowly filled his home with more blankets and throw pillows, because he's noticed that you like to snuggle and be comfortable, and he wants you to be comfortable when you're with him.

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who has a bit of a breeding kink, and gets off on the idea of knocking you up—even if he'd never, ever do that without your permission or while your relationship is what it is. but he loves fucking you raw, pressing his cock deep inside you, until the tip is right against your cervix and spilling his seed into your womb, a part of him desperately wishing it would take. he'd murmur in your ear about making you a mommy, how he'd take care of you while your belly grew with his child and how he'd be the best damn daddy a kid could ever have. it would be enough for you to start thinking there could be more between you and your sugar daddy...

sugar daddy dr. jack abbot who takes you as his date to the hospital's annual fundraiser. all the doctors and nurses get dolled up, bring their partners, and have to make nice with donors at the behest of Gloria. Jack doesn't mind it too much, he's happy enough to talk about his background as an army medic, and the ways the donors' money could help the hospital, particularly the ER. but he finds it so much more enjoyable with you on his arm, looking prettier than he's ever seen you, charming his colleagues and the donors with kind smiles and friendly chatter. all night, Jack gets ribbed by the others, asking him when he's going to put a ring on your finger and wife you up. and when the comments make you laugh, shooting him teasing, secret smiles, instead of making you uncomfortable, he starts to think maybe he should do something about making your relationship more permanent...

#dr jack abbot #dr abbot #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot smut #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot smut #sugar daddy dr jack abbot #sugar daddy jack abbot #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot fanfiction #dr jack abbot fanfic #dr jack abbot fanfiction #witchywithwhiskeywork #shawn hatosy #shawn hatosy fanfiction #shawn hatosy characters

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kxsagi · 1 month ago

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aged up blue lock men of your choice where they already perfected their skills in every aspect with their girlfriend who wants to try soccer for the first time so the blue lock men jokingly tried to show off their signature move and then reader thinking he might be asking her to replicate it, did exactly that except they didn't expected their gf to execute it perfectly (it took them years, it took her a glance)

“𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫”

a/n: the header is everything

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, mikage reo, niko ikki

itoshi rin

he was just trying to be funny, okay?

you'd asked him to teach you how to play, and he just... showed off a bit. a simple top-corner shot – full sprint, perfect form, sharp angle. you clapped.

“so you want me to do that?”

he snorted. “no, not unless you’re secretly a prodigy or something.”

but then you jog up. barely even take a second to aim. and the ball swerves – a perfect curve into the same damn top corner.

he just stands there. arms crossed. blinking.

“… did you google my entire playstyle last night?”

you: “no?”

rin: “are you possessed?”

he’s so irrationally offended, but also stunned and a little in love because what do you MEAN you just felt like it???

itoshi sae

you ask for help and he stretches dramatically like he’s being forced to tutor a child.

“fine. observe a prodigy.”

he lines up, slow-walks to the ball like a diva, and hits one of those cheeky no-look chips into the goal. smirks.

“okay, now you.”

you mimic everything – down to the posture, the lazy half-step, and then bam, the same result. ball lands in the net with that same crisp curve.

“… huh.”

he walks up to you and pokes you in the forehead.

“how did that come from you?”

you stick your tongue out. “you said observe a prodigy, right?”

he’s lowkey smiling the entire time and won’t admit it.

“okay, whatever, prodigy #2. try dribbling next, i bet you suck at that.” (he’s bluffing. he knows you’re about to humble him again.)

isagi yoichi

you just wanted a basic lesson. but your sweet boyfriend enters meta vision.

“okay, okay, watch this. it’s my direct shot. this took me years, okay?”

he explains angles. timing. leg strength. strategy. he’s so passionate you almost feel bad.

until you try it.

and the ball flies – same angle, same power, right into the net.

he’s speechless. like, “did you just… wait what???”

you: “was that it?”

him: “was that it?? LOVE, THAT TOOK ME YEARS OF DEVASTATION AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.”

he's so happy and offended all at once, like this is not how shonen arcs work 😭

but he also makes you recreate it ten more times while filming it for proof. his screensaver is now you landing a direct shot.

nagi seishiro

this man literally yawns before showing you his “signature” trap-and-volley. it’s so clean it looks fake.

“alright, try it. but it’s kinda hard.”

you look at him. “you mean like this?”

and you trap it mid-air and volley it in one fluid motion.

he blinks.

“whoa.”

you: “was that right?”

him: “um, i think you just stole my whole flow.”

nagi’s not mad tho. he’s excited. now he has someone to do lazy genius duos with.

he immediately suggests skipping the rest of practice and just going pro together.

bachira meguru

he’s full of sparkles and spins the ball on his finger before juggling it in a zig-zag pattern across the field like a circus act.

“okay cutie, your turn, but don’t stress if it’s messy the first ten years.”

you blink. “you want me to do that?”

him: “LOL nooo… unless???”

you try it. and by some miracle or muscle memory from dance or gymnastics or whatever divine chaos lives in your body, you nail the dribble.

he screeches.

like full volume. picks you up and spins you like a helicopter.

“you’re possessed by a soccer god!!! teach me!!!”

he’s immediately calling you his monster twin and demands matching cleats and jersey numbers.

training is now just the two of you goofing around and inventing new flashy combos.

kaiser michael

he was only demonstrating. not asking you to compete.

“watch and learn, liebling,” he says, tossing you a wink.

then he pulls off his signature kaiser impact like it’s casual.

you clap. “so… you want me to do that?”

“obviously not. unless you want to destroy your feet.”

you attempt it anyway.

and somehow, your shot is smoother. it hits the net harder. and you land with zero effort.

kaiser’s jaw is on the floor.

“did you… did you just out-kaiser me?”

you blink innocently. “i thought i was just copying?”

he is in his villain arc. he stares off dramatically and mutters “she’s my greatest rival” under his breath.

but he’s also holding your hand the entire walk home like you just saved his life.

shidou ryusei

“alright baby, this one’s hot.”

he launches himself into a wild, mid-air scissor kick like an absolute maniac.

lands on his feet, smirks, and flexes.

“that was sexy, right?”

you raise an eyebrow. “i can try.”

he laughs. laughs. “what are you gonna do, cartwheel and break your nose?”

and then you scissor kick it perfectly.

not only that, you somehow make it look graceful.

he’s silent.

then bursts into laughter and tackles you into the grass.

“BROOOO you’re cracked!!! marry me again!!!”

he now insists on being your hype man every single time you breathe near a soccer ball.

“watch out, my girl’s got hops and precision. she’s a menace.”

karasu tabito

karasu, the king of cool, casually rolls the ball up with his foot and does one of his famous elastic cuts followed by a no-look assist shot.

“kinda difficult. probably too fast to pick up on first try,” he smirks.

you try. you nail it.

first try. no hesitation.

the ball glides into the net like you’ve been doing it since birth.

karasu slowly removes his imaginary sunglasses.

“… are you a government experiment?”

you: “is that your way of saying good job?”

he’s lowkey impressed and also mildly panicked that he might not be the slickest one in the relationship anymore.

but he gets over it quick and says, “cool. we should do duo trick shots and make money.”

mikage reo

reo is SO dramatic about teaching you.

he plans a whole lesson, brings cones, makes a playlist.

“this is gonna be our bonding day, babe! you’ll learn from the best.”

you: “okay, show me something fancy.”

reo: “say less.”

he dribbles between cones with lightning footwork and ends with a clean nutmeg-shot combo.

then turns and bows.

“good luck topping that–”

you do it. all of it. smoother. faster. even add a little spin at the end.

reo’s soul leaves his body.

“HOW???”

you shrug. “i just… watched?”

he is clapping like a proud stage mom but also spiraling a little.

“okay, but i still look better doing it, right? right???”

he makes you wear matching jerseys and calls you his "soccer power couple" for a week straight.

niko ikki

you ask him for soccer tips and he gets all shy but serious.

“o-okay… just, uh, follow my lead.”

he does this intense, stealthy feint he’s known for, disappearing around your blind spot and curving it in.

he’s proud. it’s his baby move.

then you do it. perfectly. with the same footwork, the same angle, the same curve. first try.

he stares at you in disbelief.

“was that… did you just read my blind spot?”

you: “i mean… yeah? it made sense.”

he looks at the ground.

“am i�� obsolete?”

you immediately shower him with praise, telling him you learned it because he made it look so cool.

he softens.

“… okay. just don’t start covering your forehead, too. we can’t both be mysterious.”

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darnell-la · 9 months ago

Note

Logan in a rut has me brain rotted. I’d love if you could write something about this. I think he would try and isolate himself not matter what but it gets to the point where he can’t hold back anymore and needs relief. Idk if he would be more possessive and rough or if he would end up whiny and desperate almost subby.

note: this is a younger Logan Howlett who ends up a bit subby. he would 100% beg the reader to help him because he would be too embarrassed and shy to just man up and dominate her (we have different thoughts of Logan almost every day).

we will be worrying more rut!logan once we get caught up with our college work. we wanna make bro nasty…

———

Logan’s time has come. He hoped it wouldn’t show, but every day that passed, it gets worse. The first day, all he had to do was rub one out, but after the second, he knew he was fucked.

He couldn’t help himself. He fucked his pillow. The man was beyond fucked up that night. He had ripped his pillow open with his claws and buried his cock inside, moaning the girl's name like he’s never before.

Y/n and Logan had been friends for years. A little flirting here and there happens. They might even get a bit touchy but never have they sat and talked about what they were. Especially since the man was known for keeping his flirt up with Jean.

Logan wasn’t surprised when the only person he could think of was y/n. She was pretty, her body always sent a shock through his own, her eyes would have him lost in seconds, and she was the only one around here with common sense.

At times, he hated all those good things about her. Like now. He’s sitting across from her in the kitchen, watching her sip on her drink and watch YouTube on her phone.

All the innocent things she does, makes him so damn hard. He can’t help himself. “G-Goodnight,” Logan said as he got up to leave. He needed to rub one out again. Maybe he’d sneak into her room and cum on her sheets. He needed something that was close enough to her.

“Aw, I was gonna ask if you could walk and get some wood with me, but I’ll get it myself. Goodnight, Logan!” She smiled at the man before he turned the corner, needing to get out of there.

He hoped he could get himself to go upstairs without struggling. Without turning back around to beg Y/n, he couldn’t hold it after her thought of her saying she’d be getting wood tonight.

It’s been almost an hour, and Logan is sitting on the stairs, cock pulsing through his thick jeans. He swore his balls were blue already.

He almost got up to get this over with and grab y/n, pulling her somewhere to at least cum on her face, but he heard the lights cut off in the kitchen.

He peaked around the corner, seeing y/n walk down the hallway and out of the mansion to do her night walk for some wood.

“Fuck,” the man groaned, already thinking of how good he’ll be feeling once he gets his hands on her. He needed to touch her. It’s only been a few short days, but he can’t control it anymore.

The man stalked behind y/n, making sure she wouldn’t sense anything behind her as she walked through the woods with a huge bag to carry back a few dry sticks.

Logan shook his head at the sight of her headphones, knowing she couldn’t hear a thing around her. This was a safe place, but now that he was going through this feeling from hell, it wasn’t anymore. At least for her.

Y/n placed her bag down and took her headphones out before picking up thick and dry wood that she could use for the fire tomorrow night. The way she sang, only made the man want her more. He needed her now.

“Hey, y/n?” Logan spoke, making y/n jump from the unexpected presence of someone else. “Oh, god! Hey, Logan,” the girl smiled up at him as he walked towards her, looking down.

“I-I know this is kind of a weird time, but I need to ask you a question,” Logan said, feeling nervous now that she’s right here. “Yes, ask me anything,” she smiled as she shifted her body towards him.

“Fuck, I — Y/n, I’m going rough a rut,” the man blurted out. This was not a part of his plan. He was going to turn y/n around and shove his cock in her mouth before carrying her back to the mansion, but now he’s stuck.

“Oh — I-I don’t really know what that means, but I can still help you,” she said. “Y/n, it hurts,” the man spoke. His voice came off as a beg which made y/n feel sad for him, even though she had no idea what hurt.

“What is it, Lo? Tell me, and I’ll help you,” she went to get up, but Logan stepped towards her and placed a hand on her head, softly pushing her back down. “It hurts,” the man shifted her head just a little, making her realize his print was right in front of her face.

“Logan,” she said, loss of words at the sight of how hard his cock tried fighting through his jeans. “I-I don’t know what to do about that. Maybe take some pills. Cool it down?” She suggested, but he shook his head.

“Need you, y/n. I need you,” the man said low, needing her to touch him. “I-“ the girl cut herself off, taking a deep dive into her thoughts. The man sounded like he was in horrible pain. He was a friend, so this wouldn’t be bad, right?

“Okay, but I don’t know if it’ll help,” she said, not knowing that this would be more than enough. Y/n slowly reached up to unbuckle his belt. She could see his legs shaking a little from how nervous he was.

He had no idea what came over him. At first, he was going to get what he wanted. Use her like an animal, but now — Seeing her like this and willing to help him, made him feel better. She was going to take care of him.

“P-Please hurry,” the man begged as her hands slid down his clothes cock through his boxers after his shorts fell to his knees. “Did you cum?” Y/n asked, confused but the wet patch was only pre cum. A lot of pre cum.

“P-Please, y/n, fuck,” the man balled his fists, trying to keep himself from crumbling right then and there. He needed to leak in her mouth. No place else. Only her mouth.

“Okay, okay,” y/n worried as she finally pulled his cock out, and god, was he hurting. The veins that covered his cock, showed like crazy. His tip was sticky. His balls were stiff and ready to explode.

“Baby, please!” The man begged louder. Y/n quickly wrapped her lips around his cock and sunk down to take him all in. Well, as much as she could. He was very big.

“G-God,” the man breathed out as his head tilted back. “Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so fuckin’ much, baby,” Logan covered his face with his hands as his heart raised, feeling himself close.

“Oh, fuck, baby — yes,” the man moaned as she quickens her paste, slurping and coating his cock with her spit as she sucked a big roughly.

“Baby, please, let me cum. P-Please, I need to cum,” the man begged, wanting her to decide what he could do. Y/n nodded her head, not knowing what else to do, but she wanted him to cum. Have wanted to make him feel better.

“T-Thank you,” Logan moans loudly as his col twitched, spilling down the girl's throat. Y/n continued, sucking the man as his eyes crossed from the feeling of her emptying his sack.

“G-God,” he couldn’t keep himself together. She was so good at this. He wished he could have this every night before he went to bed.

“S-So good, y/n. So fuckin’ good,” the man let the woman know how great she was. Y/n’s glossy eyes looked up at him, feeling herself grow wet, but she knew she could deal with it herself.

“Get up, baby. Needa takes you back to my room,” Logan pulled y/n to her feet. Confused, the young lady allowed him to throw her over his shoulders.

“I can smell you, and I don’t want to leave you leaking for the night,” Logan said as he walked back towards the mansion. “I’ll be fine, Logan. I-I need to head to bed,” y/n spoke, a bit nervous about this all.

She thought that after she did him this small favor, that would be it. He had other plans. He wasn’t letting her go.

“You’ll sleep with me tonight. Tomorrow we’ll move your stuff to my room so you can sleep there every night,” the man thought way further than she thought.

“I don’t know if we can do that. We’ll have to tell Charles about our shared room, meaning everyone has to know, and I don’t know-“ she tried saying, but he cut her off.

“Baby, please. I’m fine with everyone knowing about what happened tonight. I can’t ignore how much I need you anymore,” Logan admitted.

“What if this happened again? What if I couldn’t walk to you from how hard I was? You do this to me, baby, so I need your help — I need you,”

Y/n sighed to herself then accepted what he wanted. Logan gave the girl a small peck on her side as he continued walking towards the mansion.

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zorosangell · 2 months ago

Note

HII! I have zero clue if your requests are open if they're not ignore this ask. but let's pretend it's totally summer time and it's vacation to a 5 star resort time ok? ok!!!!! i just had this random thought of the strawhats going to an extremely luxurious resort w/ a shit ton of pools and the reader ending up losing their top of their bikini while hanging out in a shallow pool with her girl bffs n having to call for bf zoro to be her savior.. sorry. i miss zoro he needs to be disturbed with every miss inconvenience ever

⛥ﾟ・。 hibiscus

synopsis: after a wardrobe malfunction at the pool, you're left soaked and topless... luckily, you have a hot boyfriend to come to your rescue.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a bit emotionally constipated, reader's better than me, girl talk, the bikini top isn't specified so imagine whatever you want.

a/n: look at my man's abs <3 oml

"No way!" you gasped, eyes wide as they flicked over each boy, completely taken aback by the similar look of them.

The little girl—who you learned to be Pasha—nodded, letting out another sigh as she grabbed another wildflower from her stockpile, tucking it into your hair.

"You have so many brothers! How big is your family?"

"Really big," her twin sister, Iza, answered, tying off another small braid she'd made. "There's twelve of us all together."

"Twelve?!"

Just the thought made you lightheaded, your mind somehow unable to comprehend one woman doing all that.

'Big Mom oughta watch out...'

"Wait 'til you learn most of us are twins..." Mila—another sister—chuckled, tossing some grapes into her mouth.

"Twins?!" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Don't scare her off, Mila! It's not that bad," Pasha assured, carefully placing another peony in another section.

After getting cornered by the Navy, and nearly capsizing while trying to escape, Nami decided the crew was well overdue for some rest and relaxation.

Luckily, the executives at nearby Elysia Resort were more than eager to welcome you into their facilities—on the consensus that nothing would be stolen and no fights would be started.

So, while the others fooled around on the beach, or did some daytime reading, or made their fifteenth pass at the buffet, you hung out at the resort's impossibly large, impossibly luxurious pool.

Where you seemed to have attracted the local population of tween girls.

"Wait, but I thought pirates with braids were cliché?" you asked, confused, as you skimmed through the magazines some of the new girls brought over.

"Cli-what?" Maya cocked her head to the side, scrunching her nose as she adjusted her floaties.

"Old news," Leona clarified before turning to you, pulling a few of the braids Iza had finished toward your cheekbones. "And they're making a comeback. Like feather earrings."

"Please," Pasha scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Feather earrings are not making a comeback."

"Tell that to Kaizoku Style," Iza grinned, holding up a magazine that read LOOTING CHIC in bold letters right above a head-shot of a woman wearing feather earrings.

"They don't look too bad," you nodded, gliding your feet through the crystal blue water of the shallow end.

"See," Leona smirked, crossing her arms in triumph. "If they're not the new thing, then what is?"

"Bangles," Pasha answered, matter-of-factly.

"They've been in fashion!"

"You were the one that stole them out of momma's jewelry box, weren't you?" Mila teased.

"I did not!"

"There," Iza smiled, tying off the very last braid before giving your shoulder a soft pat. "All done."

Carefully, you leaned forward, taking a peek at your reflection through the clear water and smiling brightly at what you saw.

Your hair was adorned with all different flavors of bloom, the vibrant colors only enhancing your natural beauty.

And the braids added depth to your curls, giving it a majestic and earth-woven look.

"Oh, girls, I—"

"DOG PILE!" a random boy exclaimed, an army of them seeming to follow as they all let out a unanimous battle cry, quite literally canon-balling right on top of you.

A chorus of screaming young girls echoed throughout the pool as boys of varying ages rained from the sky—one in particular jumping on top of your head and shoving you underwater.

"NO, WAIT MY—!"

Shhrip!

Your eye twitched, and underwater you let out a sigh of frustration as your hands snapped up to cover your chest.

'You've gotta be kidding me...'

Once the assault was over, you stood from the pool floor, glancing at the ripped bikini top floating on the chlorinated surface as you turned to the girls—most of which too busy chasing down their brothers for ruining their hair.

"You all okay?" you asked, suddenly incredibly tired.

"We're fine," Pasha sighed, shaking the water out her ear. "They always do stuff like this."

"All right, then. I'm gonna go find something to cover... this..."

Turning around, you stepped out the pool and started the trek back to the cabana, moving at a brisk pace as you kept your hands firmly pressed against your bare chest.

Even though you loved children, you had to admit that you were less than pleased to see a bunch of teens had broken your top.

And even less so that they had failed to apologize.

But, if the boyish cries of "Uncle! Uncle!" from the far end of the pool were anything to go off of, then you were sure the girls had fought to avenge and defend your honor.

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eye dragged over your body, almost analytically, gauging your situation and gathering his response.

"The kids broke your top, didn't they?" Zoro asked, his hand sliding down into his pocket.

"How'd you guess?" you sighed, slightly hanging your head, now thoroughly regretting you didn't wear a one piece.

"Was doin' some strength workouts on the beach when I heard a bunch of kids screamin'. Remembered you were hangin' out over here and decided to check it out to make sure you were all right."

"Well—"

But before you could even say anything, he tugged his haramaki over your head, carefully securing it over your chest before scooping you up in his arms.

"Zoro!" you flushed, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, managing to brush past his strong deltoids in the process.

"M'tired. You're comin' to nap with me," he stated, completely serious and leaving no room for argument as he started the trek back up to your room.

In the moment, he didn't mean to be so curt.

It wasn't you he was upset at, but rather all the creepy, on-leave marines he'd snapped at on his way, who were laughing and leering at your body like what happened to you was funny.

Pinnacles of Justice?

Pinnacles of Justice, his ass.

You'd think the defenders of the people would show a little common decency and look away when a woman's trying to cover herself.

"You have fun?" he asked, gruffly, wanting to switch the subject before he got mad all over again.

"The girls did my hair," you reported, resting your head on his chest. "Braided it and decorated it with flowers while they asked me questions about being a pirate... and fashion."

A sheepish smile crept onto your lips, excitement and worry spreading through your chest as you fiddled with a curl.

"How's it look?"

The adorable expression stretched across your face sent a sharp pang of warmth straight through the swordsman's heart.

Of course it looked good.

It was on you.

With the dewy droplets of water in your hair, along with the array of flora, you looked like some sort of sea nymph.

Discreetly, his eyes flicked down to your chest, his dick stirring slightly in his trunks at the sharp contrast of green against your tanned skin.

His haramaki was stuck to your wet body like a second skin, your pebbling nipples making it abundantly clear that it was the only thing keeping him from you.

The real you.

The bare you.

'Fuck.'

Giving your thigh a soft squeeze, he nodded with approval, a small smile settling on his lips.

"You look beautiful... you always do," he stated, as if it was a fact. "Don't need flowers to see that."

Freeing one of his hands, he fixed a particularly large hibiscus, tucking it behind your ear along with a flyaway.

"I—"

He was interrupted by the sounds of your soft snores, looking down to see you were already out like a light, cheek smushed against his pec and hand resting softly over his heart.

Like boyfriend, like girlfriend.

His chest roared with admiration at the sight, along with the sudden, violent urge to protect.

The swordsman wasn't one for beating up children, but if he ever ran into the little hoodlums that snapped your top...

Let's just say he'd have a few choice words.

#zorosangell #one piece #roronoa #one piece x reader #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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ode2rin · 1 year ago

Text

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

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blue-lights-to-dreams · 5 months ago

Text

Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of.

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant.

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them.

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty.

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of.

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped.

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself.

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing.

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your -

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered?

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time.

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick.

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room…

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

part 2!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles #hs1 #hs2 #hs3 #one direction #harry #haz

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lix-ables · 1 year ago

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his fingers find their way to settle on your ass, giving it a squeeze. you're perched on his lap, his stomach to be exact, your fingers teasing his cock in front of you. you somehow managed to get free during the night to meet him, and he comes over, only to lay in your bed and suggest eating you out. nothing too out of the blue, you've been playing this game for a while now. the whole friends with benefits, him coming over to relieve his tension by getting you off, or you going back to his place with him ( where you don't even make it out of the car because of his oh so many thoughts of railing into you while his hands grip onto the steering wheel in front of him ).

"let me see you," he manages to let out between breaths, his voice getting low when your nail 'accidentally' scrapes along his length, making him groan – that delicious sound leaving his lips whenever he gets frustrated with your teasing. "fuck, let me see you, baby." his face is so dangerously close to your centre, and he can see you playing with yourself, teasing yourself and torturing him, while touching him slowly. every time he tries to lean forward to get a taste, either your sleep shorts are in the way, or you keep inching forward, rubbing yourself against his body, feeling his movements under you.

"do yourself a favour, and sit on my face yeah?" he calls out, and at the corner of your eye you can see his hand stroke circles onto your skin, while his other hand grips the sheets below. his hips buck up into your hand as you play with his tip, pre-cum ready to be licked off. "stop fucking with me, sweetheart."

"mmmmm, but look at how pretty your cock is in my hand," you whimper, stroking his length as your tongue darts out to lick a long stripe of his cock. "it's going to look a lot more prettier fucking your mouth," he grunts when you take in the tip of his length, while your fingers cover the rest of it, playing with his balls. "that's it, fuck that's good. do that again, baby." you pull away just when he's damn near close to letting his whole cock in your mouth, and his fingers land on your ass once again, grabbing it. "fucking brat."

note. we're ok 👍🏽👍🏽 this man is just ,, wrecking me and my brain left right and centre. also you're welcome, please SUFFER W ME — this is me calling all chan whores, hoes, enthusiasts, and anyone in between including myself

©lix-ables, reblogs are appreciated ‹33

#( fuck him and his bf ass material LIKE SIR HOW DARE YOU LOOK SO HOT UGH )#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #chan imagines #chan scenarios #chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios

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paperultra · 2 years ago

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back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

#opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #this one's for the girlies who burn water #look i came into opla thinking i'd be a 100% zoro stan but something abt opla sanji got me all <3 #like bro. who gave u the right to smile like that ;(#so i made a reader who adores him just as much as he adores them :)

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writtenapoiogy · 6 months ago

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the party & the after party; satoru gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: You don’t know how you ended up in this predicament exactly. At one moment you were at a party looking for your roommate then you were bumping into star basketball player, Satoru Gojo. And then you were in his car heading to a basketball court to learn a lesson or two about the sport. One thing led to another and you ended up at his apartment.

word count: 5k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, protected/unprotected sex (you'll see what i mean), penetrative sex, choking, you match his freak and he can't get enough of you, use of pet names: baby, pretty, and pretty girl, and probably some more i forgor

a/n: i definitely promised to have this posted DAYS AGO sorrryyy life was doing its thing but i had a lot of fun writing this and writing for satoru so definitely be expecting more from me. this is also the most i've ever written for a oneshot so enjoy HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SATORUUU (ill edit this lattteerrrr)

It had been officially forty five minutes since your friend ran off and disappeared. You didn’t know what she was up to. But you were going to go home feigning tiredness.

You went up stairs and checked every unlocked door, which were few. You tried the last door at the end of the hall and, “OH MY GOD! I’m sorry, fuck, sorry.” Your hand flung to your face, covering your eyes. You were not expecting to see Suguru Geto balls deep in your best friend on top of the bathroom sink.

You slammed the door shut and began to head towards the front door. When you turned the corner to go down the stairs, you came face to face with a mans strong chest. Your hand that was still covering your eyes, for god knows why, flew out to grab onto something so you didn’t fly completely back and hurt yourself. Long calloused fingers wrapped around yours arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

When you finally gathered yourself and look at who was in front of you, you were met with striking blue eyes and stark white hair. Satoru Gojo, star basketball player. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You uttered.

He beamed a smile at you. “It’s okay. Glad I was here to catch you. You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you seen, Suguru?” Satoru peeked his head down the corridor, “haven’t seen him in almost an hour.”

“Don’t open the last door at the end of the hall, unless you wanna get flashed by your best friend.” A shiver runs through your body at the memory of your friend digging her fingertips into Suguru’s buttocks.

Satoru scrunched up his face at the image. “Wait, where are you going. It’s only eleven. The night just started.” He reached for your arm as you began to head down the stairs.

“Uh, parties really aren’t my thing.”

“You run the basketball webpage right?” He was quick to change the subject in a sad attempt at keeping you here a little longer.

You felt your face heat up and your eyes went wide. That’s an anonymous site. And also not your proudest work.

“Based on your reaction, I’m going to assume I’m right.”

“How’d you know..”

“I always see you courtside with a notebook. Didn’t take long for me to put two and two together.” Satoru was very observant and had had his eyes on you since the start of the season. During your freshman year, a senior was running the webpage and after they graduated it was passed on to you. He took notice to the badge you wore during games that stated ‘special media’.

You continue to walk away from him, completely embarrassed. You knew your reports on the games weren’t the best but you didn’t care because it was anonymous. Now the star player was standing in front of you basically saying he has known this whole time.

You ran your hands down your face. “I know, I know. Not the best sports reporter. But to be fair, I’m a creative writing major. I just took this on for the extra credit.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“But still bad. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing.”

“No really you just need like a tiny basketball lesson so your reports are more engaging.” He offered.

“Yeah. I’ve been to every game this season and it still makes no sense to me.” Maybe because you were a little too focused on the star player and not enough on the game itself.

“Then you’re just in luck because I was just about to head to the court play some ball.. You’re free to join me.” He most definitely was not about to leave. He was actually looking for Suguru to play beer pong but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hang out with just you.

“I should probably wait for my friend so she’s not worried.” Your friend and Suguru had been messing around for sometime now so you knew she was fine and you also knew that she didn’t care if you just disappeared from the party, she’d find you back home anyway.

“They probably aren’t coming out anytime soon. Just send her text. C’mon, at least I’m not forcing you to stay at this party.”

He had a good point. You would rather be anywhere else than this dumb party. Your friend told you it was sort of a birthday party— this was not what you were expecting. You would also be a fool not to agree to spend some time with Satoru. “Okay, why not.”

There was a silence in the car— not an uncomfortable silence, but still a silence non the less.

“So a creative writing major, huh?” He broke the silence.

“Yeah, I know, not the kind of major that pays the bills but I love it.”

He smiled over at you and your heart flipped as it attempted to break free from your chest.

New topics began to flow between the two of you. You learned new things about him and he learned some about you too. You learned that he didn’t mind the attention from basketball but it was also slightly the reason he doesn’t want to go further with it. He was a business major.

You pulled up to an outdoor basketball court. And that is when you realized you had left your coat. You had worn a tracksuit to the party— your coat being the only thing that really kept you warm.

“Oh fuck, I forgot my coat.” You recalled walking past the closet which held your coat hostage currently.

“It’s okay you can wear my hoodie.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I don’t want you getting cold for my sake.”

His long fingers dipped underneath the neckline and he pulled it off, swiftly. “I insist.”

You took the fabric from his hands and you were immediately engulfed with his heavenly scent. So warm and inviting. You pulled it over your head in the small space of his car, obscuring your vision— you missed the way his stare lingered on the exposed skin of your abdomen.

“Alright hotshot show me what you got.”

He smiled at you and then the two of you got out of the car. God you couldn’t get enough of his smile.

Satoru was a bit of a show off on the court, always. But especially right now with just you in attendance. He was swift and quick on his feet. Every time he made a basket he shot you a dazzling smile. “Your turn my lovely poet.” Satoru tossed the ball to you lightly.

You caught the ball. “I’m not a poet and I can’t play basketball.” You stood and met him in the middle of the court. You were never really good at sports so you stuck to your books— that’s what got you your scholarships.

“And I’m a good teacher. I do coach a youth basketball team when I’m free.”

You sigh, “What’s in it for me? I thought I was just here to observe so I could write better.”

“Well that and to get you moving around so you can warm up. You’ve gotta be freezing over there.” He pleaded with you, “Please it’ll be fun.”

His words made you realize just how cold you actually were. You reluctantly agreed to let him teach you some things. For the sake of being warm and not to get closer to the tall man standing in front of you. Right?

He first showed you how to dribble the ball and then went on to show you how to shoot. Your first attempt, the ball flew over the backboard. Your second, the ball hit the bottom part of the net— nowhere close to the rim. An third attempt, the ball flew towards the hoop with promise before it hit the edge of the rim and bounced back to the two of you.

Satoru threw his hand out and caught the ball before it could hit you. “Okaayy, lets work on your stance a little. Yeah?” He placed the ball back in your hands before he walked behind you and hovered his hands over your hips, “May I?”

You turned your head towards him when you heard the closeness of his voice. Satoru was extremely close to you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on him. You just didn’t want to admit cause who didn’t have a crush on Satoru Gojo.

He was attractive, obviously. You weren’t blind— you just hadn’t seen him up close and personal. He was absolutely the most handsome person you had ever laid your eyes on. He could have anyone he wanted. There was no way he’d pick you.

His bright blue eyes had a sparkle to them. You felt yourself getting lost in them before your eyes trailed down to his lips. His soft pink lips. Oh, how you would love to feel them against your own.

As he said your name he couldn’t help but smile when he saw where your eyes had lingered to. He wanted to lean in. He wanted to close that gap between the two of you.

“Um, yeah. Yeah that’s fine.”

He placed his hands on your hips and your mind went completely blank. It’s as if his fingers were ablaze and you could feel the burn through the clothes against your skin.

After he helped you fix your stance he explained to you how simple it would be from there. His hands went from your hips up to your arms and you had to take a deep breath to center yourself. “Alright now just toss it.” His lips were right next to your ear. “C’mon you got this.”

You almost melted right then and there. However, you still stood strong and you threw the ball and to your surprise it actually went in.

You hollered and hopped a couple of times before turning around and wrapping your arms around Satoru. He was so warm and he smelled so good. You could really get lost in his arms. You two stood like that for a few minutes before your brain came back to you and you pulled away, clearing your throat.

He smiled down at you, “I told you you could do it.”

After he retrieved the ball he went in for a dunk and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down to his exposed lower stomach. Your eyes caught white hair that trailed down into his sweats.

You scoff, “Show off.”

“What you wanna try to dunk? I can go get you a step stool if you want.”

Oh he thought he was so funny. “Jackass.”

He let out a boisterous laugh. “Hey, c’mon, I was just messing around. Why don’t you try to take the ball from me. I’ll go easy on you.”

He explained to you that this was to make sure that the person you’re guarding cannot pass the ball to their teammate or shoot the ball and score a point.

Every time your hand got close to the ball it was immediately out of your reach yet again. “Satoru, you said you’d go easy on me.” You frowned.

“This is me going easy.”

Oh.

You continue to try and take the ball from him this time he goes for a score and shoots the ball, causing you to trip on your feet and ram face first into his chest. You both come crashing down to the ground. Just before crushing you underneath him, he caught himself with one of his forearms on the ground and his other hand right next to your head— caging you beneath him.

His breath was hitting your face and you could smell the faint sent of alcohol. “Did you drink tonight? C-cause you drove.”

“I just had one beer. And you got here safe didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” You let out a barely there whisper. You took in all of his features. His fluffy eyelashes. You fingers twitched to touch his cheek.

You hadn’t realized how deeply you were staring at his lips till your eyes moved to meet his and he was unashamedly staring at your slightly agape mouth.

Then in the distance a car alarm went off and the two of you scrambled away from each other. Breaking the tension in the air.

Satoru quicky busied himself with the basketball and began moving around the court again. Your eyes were glued to him, much like when you attended one of his games. There were just a few things you were noticing. Things you tried so hard to ignore before.

You noticed how his hand easily gripped the ball. His hands were large. And then when he spun the ball on his finger you thought you were done for. Your mind having inappropriate thoughts about the white haired man in front of you.

What his long fingers would feel like wrapped around your neck…. Or how they would feel inside of you..

“Hellloo? Earth to Y/N.” Satoru was now standing directly in front of you. He laughed at the shock on your face. “I thought I lost you for a second there.”

“Sorry. Uh, what time is it. It feels like its getting late.”

He looked down at his arm to check the time on his watch. “It’s just a little past midnight.”

“I should probably go home.”

“Why?”

“I-,” You started.

“Cause it’s Saturday night so I know you don’t have class.” Satoru really didn’t want you to leave. He was enjoying being around you and he didn’t want the night to end. “Please. Stay. Have some fun with me.”

You laugh. “It’s freezing.”

“I didn’t say we had to stay at the court.” Fuck it. He was gonna figure out how to spend the rest of the night with you. “Would you wanna go back to my place?”

“And do what?” Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of being alone with him at his apartment.

“Whatever you want.” And he did truly mean whatever you wanted. Because he wanted you and he would be through the roof if you wanted him too.

He had this look in his eye and how could you refuse him. “Okay.”

You made your way back to Satoru’s car and you felt his hand cover yours on the door handle, “Let me.”

You turned to look at him and yet again he was extremely close to you. You were starting to think this man didn’t understand the definition of personal space but you didn’t mind it. Not when it was him.

But now you thought of this closeness as dangerous. You had been stopping yourself from kissing his soft and tempting lips all night. You knew if he got close to you again you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

You took in your surroundings and he had you caged in against his car. “Satoru?”

“Yea..”

Fuck it.

You brought your hands up to his head and tangled your fingers in his pillow soft hair and brought him down to close the gap between you two. You moaned against his lips and felt your body mold against his. He tasted so sweet and all you wanted to do was indulge in him.

Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you completely against him. All he could think was yes yes yeswhen you kissed him. He parted his lips and nipped at your bottom lip.

Your fingers tugged his locks when you felt his teeth against your lip. He moaned into your mouth and your brain turned to mush. You felt a familiar knot begin to form in your gut.

His hands that were wrapped around you went down to your ass and he ground you against his hips— making you feel how hard he was.

Satoru reluctantly pulled away from you because he knew that if the two of you stayed where you were he might’ve taken you right there against his car.

“Fuck, get in. Now. Please.” He said, desperately.

You placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and nodded as you got in the car when he opened the door.

When he got in the car he immediately pulled out his cell and sent a text to Suguru telling him not to come back to the apartment tonight because he had company.

On the short drive to his place his hand stayed on your upper thigh. He drew enticing circles along your inner thigh which had you spreading your legs for him. You wished you had opted for a skirt tonight and not a sweatsuit.

He was on you as soon as you guys walked in. He was standing behind you with his arms running up your abdomen underneath your layers of clothing. He walked you towards his bedroom with his mouth attached to your neck.

“Satoru..” You whined at the sensation of his touch. He was driving you insane in the best way possible.

Satoru hummed, “I love the way you say my name.” He stripped you of his hoodie that you still had on. He started to undress you slowly. When he pushed your pants down, he made sure to kiss your legs all the way down till the fabric pooled at your feet. Soon you were standing in nothing but your matching lace set. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You felt yourself getting shy underneath his gaze. You needed to level the playing field. You balled your hand in his shirt and pulled him closer to you. You turned the two of you so that his back was to the bed.

You started to push his shirt up his chest and he made quick work of removing the item of clothing. You let yourself take in his sculptured body. He looked like a greek statue. Carved straight from marble.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your eyes shot up from his v-line and right to his lust filled eyes. “Shut up.” You shoved him onto the bed but he was quicker than you thought. Satoru had pulled you on top of him as he fell back. For nearly the third time this night.

He chuckled into the space between you two, “We have to stop meeting like this.” He smirked at you before he flipped the both of you over so that he was looming over you. He captured your lips in his again. It was searing compared to the last one. His wet warm tongue slipped into your mouth and you welcomed him with a moan.

With you in his bed and him on top of you, his smell was all around you. It made you wanna melt into his sheets and never leave. It was undoubtedly intoxicating. You brought your hands to his beautiful soft hair again and pulled him harder against you.

His hands were all over you. He moved his head down and laid kisses to your jaw then trailed down to your neck— his fingers occupied with unhooking your bra. When he freed your breasts he immediately brought his mouth down to one of the hardened buds.

Your back arched at the sensation. “Oh, fuck.”

Satoru lapped at your sensitive nub while his unoccupied hand tweaked the other. You felt your underwear dampen when his teeth scrapped against you. He let off of it with a pop and then dragged his tongue down you. He stopped at the top of your panties and nipped at the skin there.

It crossed your mind what he was about to do. “Oh. Satoru, you don’t have to.” Being eaten out wasn’t really one of your favorite things in bed.

He frowned, “You don’t want me to.” Satoru desperately wanted to taste you. He wanted to leave you trembling and gushing on his tongue.

“It just doesn’t really… do much for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never really, erm, finished from it…” You fiddled with your fingers, purposely not looking him in his bright blue eyes.

“Oh, baby, that’s a shame but I gotta make sure you’re ready. I’m about to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

Your heart swelled at the pet name before you audibly gulped. He smirked devilishly up at you before he wrapped his hands around your calves and pulled you down to the edge of his bed.

Satoru got on his knees in front of his bed, where your legs now dangled. He slowly pulled your panties down your legs and he let out a low groan when a string of wetness connected you to the fabric. “You’re so wet for me, hmm. I can’t wait to taste you.” He said in a pleased hum.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit. You felt that knot tighten just a tad but enough for you to know that you had never had this done to you properly. He moved his head away from your wet heat and placed kisses on your inner thighs. Satorugripped under your knees and pushed your legs up.

He saw your hands gripping his sheets in anticipation. “Put your hands in my hair. Pull as much as you want, I like it.”

Oh?

You pushed his hair off of his forehead and ran your fingers through the strands before tugging lightly to test the waters. You were pleased to hear a low whine leave his lips.

He licked from your entrance up to your clit before he started to lap at your clit like he was making out with it. You lost your mind. You couldn’t control the noises that left your lips.

“Ah..” You jutted you hips up against his face, involuntarily.

Satoru closed his mouth on your clit and started to suck just as he sunk his long middle finger inside of you. He began to pump into you at a slow pace.

“Shit.” You panted and tightened your grip in his hair making him moan against your sensitive nub. The pleasures he was giving you was a thousand times better than what you did by yourself. He was reaching places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. Places your fingers could never dream of reaching.

He stopped suckling your clit and laid his tongue flat when you started to grind down on his finger. You were getting close to coming so so close. He added another digit to the finger that was already inside of you.

Your back arched off the bed and you pulled his hair harder than you had all night when those two fingers curved and hit the sweet soft spot deep inside of you. You were left babbling and mumbling. All he could hear was his name and a bunch of pleas and curses.

Satoru wrapped his lips around your swollen nub again as he continued to assault your g-spot. Your orgasm hit you in a flash of blacks and reds. A loud moan left your lips and your hands went lax in his hair.

He removed his mouth from you and let out a deep chuckle. His fingers continued to pump in you, letting you ride out your high. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He looked down as he removed his fingers from you, your juices glistening his chin and his fingers. He brought his fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off, “and just as sweet as I thought.”

Your mind was completely blank from your earth shattering orgasm. You just stared at him dopey.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? We can stop now.” Satoru asked when he came up to your face after you came down from your orgasm. And you truly couldn’t believe he would ask you a question like that mere inches away from your face with your juices dripping down his chin.

You aggressively nodded your head. You needed him. More than anything.

“C’mon use your words, pretty.” He hummed and it sent you reeling. His voice sounded so sultry and melodic. “Haven’t even got to fuck you dumb yet.”

“Yes, please. M’sure. I need you.”

“Yeah? I need you too.” He moved away from you and you immediately sat up to see where he was going. You saw him going to his nightstand and grab a condom. That’s when you remember what he said before he ate you out.

I gotta make sure you’re ready.

And that’s when your eyes fell down to the huge bulge in his sweats.

Satoru watched your eyes widen when he pulled his sweats and boxers off in one go. “It’s okay, you can take it. I got you.” He met you back at the edge of the bed. He didn’t even bother climbing in the bed with you. He was gonna fuck you off the edge of his bed. “I’ll go easy on you”

You bit your lip and watched him put the condom on and then line his thick tip with your sopping wet hole. As he began to sink into you inch by hefty inch. He made you feel so entirely full and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. You spread your legs wider for him. You wanted every inch of him inside of you.

“Heh-, See I told you you could take it.” His words sounded eerily similar to his ones earlier when you made a basket. He pushed all the way in, buried to the hilt. “Shit. You’re so tight.”

Satoru almost pulled all the way back out which had you reaching your hands for him. You were feeling emptier by the second with every inch that he pulled away from you. You were feeling needy and you didn’t even care how embarrassing it may have looked.

He slammed his hips back in, all the way in, he left you gasping for air. He started to find his pace and began to fuck you so good. He had his headboard hitting the wall repeatedly with his thrusts.

“You feel so good. Fuck.” He had his hands on your waist—his grip tight—as he continued to plow into your wet cunt. His eyes traced all over your pleasure blown face. Half lidded eyes staring up at him as you tried to maintain eye contact. Your mouth agape in a small ‘o’.

“You’re so big.” The sounds that left your mouth were almost inhumane. You wanted him closer. You needed him closer. You needed him raw. Every time you felt your climax building you just thought of how you’d be coming on a piece of latex and not his pretty dick.

“Can you take it off.” You whined. “Please. I wanna feel you, ‘toru.”

“W-what?” He grunted in response, you having caught him off guard. “Take what off, baby?” He didn’t stop his thrusts and brought his hands up to your breasts to tweak your nipples.

“T-the condom. Please take it off.” You mewled when the head of his cock came into contact with you cervix. You whined when he stalled at your words. He rolled his hips, his dick pressing deliciously against your cervix.

Who was he to deny you? Fuck, who was he to deny himself. “Fuck. Yes.” Satoru slowly pulled out of you. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and slowly pulled the condom off, wincing at the tightness. He tossed the condom into a little trashcan before he lined himself back up with your entrance.

You, getting impatient, wrapped your ankles around his ass and pulled him forward. His cock slid into you with ease. Satoru let out a deep moan when he slipped in bare. You feel so much better to him this way. Nothing dulling the feeling of your wet pussy to him. He was making more noise than he had been all night.

The noises leaving Satoru’s lips made your walls flutter around him. You were so close. You just were missing something. He brought his hand up to your throat and before he wrapped it around your neck he asked, “Is this okay.” You nodded fervently, answering his question.

You were gonna be the end of him, he thought. You were so fucking perfect. The way your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he closed his long fingers around your throat. “That feel good, pretty girl?”

You hummed in response. Your hands reached up and grabbed his arm. You let out a pathetic whimper when he tightened his grip. You felt that knot in your stomach getting ready to snap

“I said you’d forget your name not mine, baby. Say it.” He said as he hiked one of your legs up with his free hand so that he was hitting your g-spot. And he didn’t let up once he found it.

“Oh fuck.. Satoru!” You sobbed out— your words sounded harsh from the pressure on your throat. All you hear were the wet squelching sounds of him fucking into you raw. “Fuck, fuck. Baby, baby… M’gonna come.”

“Yeah?” He let out a low moan. “You want me to pull out?” He felt his balls tighten when your soaked walls clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.

“N-no.” That was definitely the complete opposite of what you wanted. You wanted him to come inside of you and not waste a drop.

“No?”

You shook your head. “Mmm. I want it inside. Please, s’toru, please. I need it.” You fucked him back as best as you could. “Come with me. I want.”

Satoru let go of your throat and leaned forward, hitting that spot even deeper.“Fuck, yeah. I got you, baby.” He continued to roll his hips into yours. You were a moaning and whimpering mess below him. His next three thrusts were hard and rough and just enough to make the both of you come with a loud shout from him and a moan from you.

The two of you were laying there panting with your mouths over the others.

“Fuck.” You finally broke the silence. “That was good.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Happy birthday to me huh?”

“What?! It’s your birthday?”

“Well, whose party did you think that was?”

You roll your eyes, “Happy birthday, Satoru.” He smiled down at you and placed a soft kiss to your lips. You finally came to your senses and realized he was still in you… and he was still very hard.

This was gonna be a long night.

my requests for satoru are open btw! click here

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 months ago

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reader falling in love with psych ward patient!könig

A/N: I only realized AFTER I posted it that I read the ask wrong 😞 I tease it as König falling in love and not the other way around. Sorry anon!

The antiseptic makes everything seem stale and tainted, even if its really meant to disinfect and clean. It’s a tarnishing effect that makes the yellow walls which are meant to be cheerful feel like just another falsity.

Entering the building seems like enough of a stressor without even heading to the floor you are assigned to. As you climb the stairs your heart rates spikes—every colourful wall meant to soothe the patients only serves to make you feel more jittery.

Your hands and fingers twitch by your sides as you try to gather any residual strength you can muster before you enter the floor. The Men’s Ward of the Saint Marie’s Asylum for the Mentally Ill was no one’s top choice for work.

You step into the floor and head to the nurses’ desk, the starch white skirt of your dress feels like it is another tool to taunt you with. The heels on your feet pinch your toes and are a half size too small but you can’t afford to buy new ones. The curl of your hair is falling flat from the rain that threatens to downpour upon the entire compound—

“Dr. Wilson is dead.” One of the nurses on the floor reaches for your arm, her nails digging into your flesh as she yanks you behind the desk. “He was found hanging in the staircase that leads to the children’s ward-”

Dr. Wilson was a monster in the asylum. He was a predator who got some sick sense of pleasure from the treatment of the men. He would regularly visit the women and the young girls, threatening nurses who didn’t comply with his orders not to tell a soul.

“He was a monster-”

“He didn’t deserve the die.” The head nurse for the day cuts off the youngest among you with a sharp tongue and a stern warning communicated with her eyes. “Get back to work, the police will come and investigate.”

A chart is handed to you, one you know to expect. No one can handle patient 35.

No one but you.

“Gluten morgen, König,” you wheel in a cart with his breakfast and meds, cautiously approaching the giant Austrian man who sits on the bed, “did you sleep well?”

“Your shoes are too tight,” his German accent draws your attention first and foremost and when you look away from the cart, you see his beautiful blue eyes trained on you.

“You can tell just by looking at me?” You are taken back by his observation but not his mind that never seems to be dulled even on medication. “How did you know?”

“You wince when you walk and there are bandages taped to the inside of your heels.” His dirty blonde, almost brown, hair falls into his face and the corner of his lips twitch. “You should buy new heels, schatz-”

“Nurse,” you correct him more sternly than intended and then immediately wince when his face falls, “König I’m sorry for my tone-”

He was a beast, an absolute monster of a man who stood over 6’6”, his true height was rumoured to be 6’10”. None of the other nurses would have much luck getting him to do anything, until you had come along. Only days after being hired, he had grown complacent—but only for you or your cross shift nurse.

“Dr. Wilson is dead.” He rises from the bed, his standard clothing rumpled by his hips and abdomen, a sigh of a fitness sleep. “Der Wichser hat gerne Frauen und junge Mädchen angefasst.”

He spoke in German, muttering angrily as he clenched and unclenched his hands. He balled them tightly together while you stood tensely by the tray containing his breakfast and medication. You didn’t know whether he would strike out, at you or the cart nearby, but if you were are risk you should leave—

“I have something for you,” just as easily as he had been worked up, he relaxed, “a gift.”

“A gift?” Your eyes watched his movement as he reached toward the single box he could keep possessions in. His fingers searched the contents until he had pulled his hand out and held the item out to you. A locket on a single chain, something beautiful and dainty, an heirloom that was certainly valuable.

“König-“

“It was my mother’s,” his voice was soft and almost unrecognizably tender, “she died two years ago, I was away at war.”

“I can’t take this, you know I can’t-“

“You will.” His jaw tensed, eyes grew dark and stormy. “No one will stop you, no one will take it from you.”

“Okay, okay…thank you, it’s beautiful.” He placed the locket in your hands, closing your fingers around the chain. His eyes retained their dark and stormy look however his lips relaxed and his hand remained touching yours.

“You are safe while I am here, schatz. You know this, ja?” He said the same thing every time you worked with him, that you were safe and that no one would hurt you.

König was a beast of a man who seemed to have a very well guarded hidden piece of him that he wouldn’t let anyone see. He knew what to say to doctor’s to piss then off, what threats to make to nurses to keep him restrained to the bed and the unit.

There was a plan forming in his head and only he could see it.

“You need your medication, König.” You hold out the small circular dish for him to take, and he sits once again, doing what you say. He tips his head back and opens his mouth, his tongue sticking out in order to show you he’s swallowed them.

“I can listen when I want to, nurse.” König’s voice is teasing in his own edging and dark way, though there’s something so complex and complicated that no of the staff can figure out.

He’s 30 steps ahead of all of you; you’re all playing his game.

“Breakfast-”

“Barely passable.” He stirs the boiled oatmeal, the plain soupy mixture that draws a certain disgust even from yourself. “Rats eat better.”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing, and you reach into the pockets of your nurses’ dress, finding some hidden packets stuffed inside, “here.”

When you set the packets down on the tray, cinnamon, sugar and even salt are laid out for him. Things no other patient would get, and even you don’t know why you’ve given them to him.

König watches them, studies them, and then his large hands grasp the packets you had given. The corner of his lips twitch, another ploy and another stroke of whatever pen he’s got to make his plans. He lifts his head, his eyes rake over you, and a genuine smile forms on his face.

But he says nothing while he rips open the sugar and cinnamon, dumping them both into the oatmeal. You wait until he’s eating before you start to wheel the cart away, only pausing when he calls your name.

“If anyone stops you from wearing my gift, I will deal with it.” It was a promise, a vow that hung in the air and made you wonder just what kind of game König was playing.

#historical au #asylum!König x nurse!Reader #könig x reader #könig #könig x you #patient!König x nurse!Reader #historical au Drabble

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keehomania · 5 months ago

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paradise — jjk (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut — loosely inspired by outer banks — friends with benefits, kook/pogue dynamic, violence, manipulative!toxic!jungkook, p in v intercourse, jealousy, creampie, car sex, degradation, jungkook is mean lol, tit play, lots of yapping, orgasm denial, spanking, drug usage

hell is other people. at least, according to sartre. everybody seemed to have their own personal perspective. you had your sartres, your tolstoys, and even your nietzsches, if that struck your fancy. that was the beauty of philosophy—everybody had their own way of looking at the glass, whether it was half-full or not. the sheer essence relied on the fact that, those who cared enough, would put their minds to great use in order to put things into perspective. it was subjective. to sartre, hell was other people. to you, it was jeon jungkook.

it was good. it was so good, every part of it that your mind knew was bad, seemed to be countered by a much more primitive instinct. it was only natural, above all else. it allowed you to indulge in your primal instincts, in a way that would raise eyebrows instead of praise. to hell with it, you didn’t need praise. you just needed to live, and if anybody was going to tell you how to do it, it was going to be you. sartre could never let himself go and become incarnated in his body, but thankfully, you were no sartre.

there was a certain division that led life on the island, one that seemed to resemble the States’ red-blue way of thinking. there was a hint of bourgeoisie to it, maybe even more than a hint. one side of the island belonged to those who managed to get by, living on scraps and making the most of them. they were the commoners who, despite working to live, still lived. the other side, though basing their entire lives on privilege and luxury, ceased to live. they merely existed. they existed, with their three-story homes, trust funds, and private schools, but they didn’t know the first thing about living.

living was what you did best, and you had nothing to regret. you could only wish to turn back time, to shed the last eighteen years of your life the way a snake shed its skin, and to start over. you’d trade the hand you were dealt at birth, every single privilege that was guaranteed, for the life you were now living. your blood ran blue, but your heart knew exactly where home was, much to your parents’ dismay. while they weren’t supportive, they were willing to look the other way. they knew nothing could replace the bonds formed—your second family, even if it was on the cut.

at times, you were in over your head. even with the first rays of sunlight making their breakthrough of the day, the smell of salt in the air, the feeling of coarse sand between your toes—sometimes, it wasn’t enough to quiet your mind. you stared into the sea, watching the boats grow smaller and smaller as they travelled down south, the corners of your lips turning downward as you did so. during moments like these, you would reminisce, and you would do it quietly. you would take a minute to grieve the life you had discarded, the friendships you had ended, and the luxuries you kissed goodbye. you were happier now, the half-full glass part of your mind would tell you, but the other still asked, what if you weren’t?

“these tides got me by the fucking balls, dude,” was the first thing to have snapped you out of your own thoughts, earning your attention in a matter of seconds. finally, you felt yourself relax. you could see taehyung in the water, wrestling with the surfboard under his arm as he gasped for air. for a second, he met your gaze, and you found yourself smiling. jimin stood over him, crouching against the floorboards of the boat—the same one he named in taehyung’s honor, the “dokdo maknae.”

you watched in amusement as he extended his hand, offering his best man help, even if it seemed like the world’s biggest struggle. “do us all a favor and just let him drown next time,” you called out, finally propping yourself off the ground and back onto your feet. despite the middle finger sent your way, you could hear seulgi cracking up just a few feet away from you. “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” taehyung responded as he dried himself off with an old rag.

you shook your head, your grin widening as you made your way toward seulgi, who was sitting cross-legged near the cooler, sunglasses perched on her nose, sipping a beer. the sun spilled across the boat, warming the floorboards beneath your bare feet and casting golden ripples across the water. the air smelled of salt and sunscreen, a scent that always brought you peace. “boys,” seulgi said with a smirk as you dropped down beside her, stealing her beer for a quick sip. “so dramatic.”

before you could respond, taehyung, now aboard, threw the rag to the side with a flourish. “you want dramatic? i’ll show you dramatic,” he declared, heading toward the cooler with newfound purpose. you and seulgi exchanged a look, already bracing for whatever ridiculousness he was about to pull. “i bet i can shotgun two beers faster than anyone here,” he announced, grabbing two cans from the cooler.

“oh, please,” you said, leaning back on your elbows as the sun kissed your skin. “you can’t get through one can without it looking like you pissed yourself.”

“you need to learn to have a little more faith in me,” taehyung replied with a confident smirk, already cracking open the cans. jimin was on the other side of the boat, shaking his head. “this should be good,” seulgi murmured, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to watch the scene unfold.

with exaggerated theatrics, taehyung lifted both cans, the liquid already beginning to foam. “one, two,” he started, his voice trailing off as he tilted them back, the first gush of bitter liquid splashing wildly. you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as, true to form, taehyung managed to spill more than he drank. within seconds, beer was running down his arms, soaking his shirt, and unfortunately, spraying onto both you and seulgi in the process. “see, i can totally do it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you asshole,” you said, feigning annoyance as you flicked droplets off your arms. “you got us all wet!” through her laughter, seulgi added, “You’re a walking disaster, dude.”

taehyung, unbothered, gave you both a devilish grin. “i’ve got a solution,” he said, stepping closer to you. before you could react, his arms were already wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground and and throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder. “taehyung, don’t even try it!” you yelled, pounding on his back, but he was already sprinting toward the edge of the boat.

the impact was cold and sudden, the water enveloping you in an instant. you came up for air sputtering, pushing your wet hair out of your face as you glared at him. “you’re such an ass,” you snapped, splashing water in his direction, but your laughter betrayed you. his grin was wide and unrepentant as he treaded water, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. “and yet, you can’t get enough of me,” he teased, dodging your splash with ease. despite your protests, you couldn’t deny the truth of his words. moments like these—laughter, salt water, the sun rising higher in the sky—reminded you why you chose this life.

the sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows on the beach as the waves crashed in a soothing rhythm against the shore. you lay sprawled on a towel beside seulgi, your sunglasses shielding your eyes from the glare, the heat of the day seeping into your skin. taehyung and jimin had ventured further down the beach with their fishing rods, their laughter echoing faintly over the sound of the waves.

seulgi was flipping through a fashion magazine, occasionally pausing to comment on an outfit or a piece of jewelry, but you were only half-listening. your mind drifted, lulled by the sea breeze and the distant hum of voices. that was, until your phone buzzed beside you. you hesitated, a pang of unease washing over you as you turned the screen over. the name flashing on the screen was both familiar and unwelcome.

do not answer: wya

your stomach twisted as you stared at the message, the three letters pulling you from the tranquility of the moment. you didn’t have to think twice to know why he was texting. jeon jungkook always had a way of turning up uninvited, unannounced, and unwelcome—yet there was something about him that kept you from cutting him off entirely. you scoffed quietly, a sound that barely escaped your throat, but seulgi noticed the subtle change in your demeanor.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, lowering her sunglasses to give you a curious glance. you forced a laugh, shaking your head as you quickly locked your phone. “wrong number, i guess.” she raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t push further. you couldn’t risk her knowing even a fraction of what you had going on with jungkook. seulgi was fiercely loyal, and if she ever found out about the tangled mess of mistakes and emotions you had with him, she’d never let it slide.

your thoughts churned as you leaned back against the towel, staring at the sky. what had started as a drunken mistake one night at a party thrown by the rich and reckless had somehow spiraled into something far more complicated. jungkook had a reputation that preceded him—dangerous, aloof, and always out for his own gain. but with you, he was different. or at least, you’d convinced yourself he was. you thought back to the nights where he’d been unexpectedly gentle, his touch careful and his words soft, as though the walls he put up for the world didn’t exist in your presence. it was a lie you clung to, a fantasy you chased, even when his actions painted a different picture.

the resentment had been simmering for a while, but it reached its boiling point last week. you’d seen him at the golfing event, his arm slung around another girl as though you didn’t exist. it was the final confirmation you needed: he wasn’t what you wanted him to be. still, your fingers hovered over your phone, and before you could stop yourself, you typed out a response.

you: beach

you: taehyung’s throwing a party tn

the reply came faster than you anticipated, as though he had been waiting for your message.

do not answer: omw

your jaw tightened as you stared at the screen, irritation bubbling up inside you. the audacity he had was almost impressive, if it weren’t so infuriating.

you: ur not invited lol

a beat passed before his response lit up the screen, and it was exactly what you expected.

do not amswer: see u tonight

you sighed, tossing your phone onto the towel beside you with more force than necessary. the nerve of him.

“what’s up?” seulgi asked, glancing at you from over the rim of her sunglasses. “nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “just work stuff.” she nodded, satisfied with the answer, and returned to her magazine. but your mind was elsewhere, already bracing for the chaos jungkook’s presence would inevitably bring. you hated how easily he got under your skin, how no matter how many times you told yourself you were done, you always found yourself right back where you started.

the memory seemed to hit you like a wave, drowning out the warmth of the sun and the soft sounds of the beach. it wasn’t just a moment—it was the catalyst, the precise point in time when your life split into the “before” and “after” of jeon jungkook. you’d never forget the smell of salt in the air mixed with the sharp bite of alcohol, or the way the world seemed to tilt slightly as you tried to keep your balance.

that night, the four of you—taehyung, jimin, seulgi, and yourself—had made the brilliant decision to sneak off to the other side of the island. it wasn’t a small feat; the jungle separating your beach from theirs was dense and wild, and every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves had sent shivers down your spine. but the promise of free booze and a party hosted by the infamous jungkook and his equally notorious friends had been too tempting.

the house where the party raged was perched on the cliffside, its floor-to-ceiling windows glowing with golden light. music blared loud enough to make the walls tremble, and the sound of laughter and splashes echoed from the pool. you hadn’t wasted any time diving headfirst into the expensive cocktails. the smooth taste of rum burned in the back of your throat, but it only fueled the high you were chasing. “have a hit, c’mon, it’s on the house,” a voice had called out over the noise.

you turned just in time to see jungkook leaning casually against a pool table, his friend nervously fidgeting with a rolled-up dollar bill in hand. the sharp scent of chemicals lingered in the air, unmistakable even in the chaos of the party. “don’t pussy out on me now, okay?” his voice was smooth, almost coaxing, but the sharp edge in his words betrayed the threat beneath. his friends—if you could call them that—laughed on cue, while a group of girls lounged behind him, their eyes glued to him like moths to a flame.

something about the scene struck you wrong. even through the haze of alcohol, your disdain bubbled up. the scoff that escaped your lips wasn’t intentional, but it was loud enough to carry. jungkook’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze landing on you like a laser. “you get lost, whore? cut’s on the other side of the island,” he sneered, his words slicing through the air like a knife. laughter erupted around him, his friends quick to follow his lead. but you weren’t about to back down, not to him.

“you get lost, asshole? addicts anonymous is on the other side of the island,” you shot back, your words sharper than you expected. the laughter died instantly, replaced by a stunned silence. even his so-called friends seemed intrigued, their eyes darting between you and him like they were watching a bomb about to go off. jungkook’s expression shifted, his smirk faltering as he straightened, his full attention now focused on you.

“you’ve got a mouth on you,” he murmured, stepping away from the table. “and you’ve got a habit,” you retorted, moving closer despite the voice in your head screaming for you to stop.

he tilted his head, studying you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “let me do my thing, yeah? shit cost me a lot.” there it was—the money. it always came down to that with guys like him. you watched as he turned back to his friend, offering a look that was equal parts mocking and demanding. the guy hesitated, the dollar trembling in his grip.

before you could think better of it, your feet carried you forward. with a boldness that surprised even you, you snatched the bill from the guy’s hand, shoving jungkook aside with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. “if you’re gonna waste your money, might as well make it worth it,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

the rolled-up bill felt foreign in your hand, and your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned down, the sharp sting of the powder burning your nostrils. you inhaled until the line was gone, ignoring the searing pain and the metallic taste that followed.

straightening up, you turned to jungkook, your head spinning but your resolve unshaken. “you can leave him alone now,” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind. “not everyone needs coke and viagra to keep their dick hard.” the room fell silent, all eyes on you. jungkook stared at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a flicker of surprise, maybe even admiration.

“you’d be surprised just how hard it can get,” he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. your stomach twisted, but you refused to falter. “try me,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

his lips curled into a smirk, and for a moment, neither of you moved. then, without breaking eye contact, you turned on your heel and walked past him, ignoring the way your heart raced as you climbed the stairs. the sound of his footsteps behind you sent a chill down your spine, but you didn’t stop. you knew where this was headed. you knew it was a mistake. and yet, as you reached the top of the stairs and felt his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you to face him, you knew you wouldn’t stop it. not tonight.

the morning after was worse than anything you could have anticipated. the headache was a dull roar behind your eyes, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and the sour tang of regret clung to you like a second skin. the smell of sweat, alcohol, and sex lingered in the air, mixing into a nauseating reminder of the night before.

the room was bathed in the soft golden glow of the early morning sun filtering through the curtains. you blinked against the light, your senses slowly coming back to you as the events of the previous night unfurled in your mind. the party. the lines. the liquor. jungkook. shit, jungkook.

you pushed yourself upright, the sheet pooling around your waist as you surveyed the room with growing horror. his room. his bed. his things scattered around like trophies of his carelessness. and there, beside you, his arm lazily draped over the empty space, was the man himself. he looked peaceful, almost innocent in his sleep—a huge contrast to the wild, arrogant man from the night before. his dark hair was tousled against the pillow, his chest rising and falling steadily. you could make out the faint remnants of scratches on his shoulders and chest, and the sight made your stomach flip.

you slid out of his bed as quietly as you could, every movement measured and deliberate. the cool morning air hit your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. the ache in your thighs and the marks on your body only deepened your shame. your clothes were strewn across the floor, a chaotic mess of discarded fabric. you crouched down, gathering them quickly, trying to piece together some semblance of dignity.

the large mirror across the room caught your reflection, and you froze. you looked disheveled. vulnerable. raw. your hair was a mess, your makeup smeared, and your skin bore the evidence of his touch—purple bruises on your neck and thighs, faint scratches on your arms. it was as if your body had betrayed you, telling the story of your night with him in ways you wished it wouldn’t.

as you slipped your panties back on and reached for your bra, the voice you dreaded most cut through the silence like a knife. “going somewhere?” you froze, your heart plummeting into your stomach. of course, he was awake. of course, fate wouldn’t let you escape unnoticed.

you didn’t turn to look at him, didn’t dare meet his gaze. instead, you focused on pulling your bra straps into place, forcing yourself to appear unaffected. “clearly,” you deadpanned, hoping the sharpness in your tone would mask the turmoil inside you. he shifted, the sound of the sheets rustling making you painfully aware of his presence. you could feel his eyes on you, heavy and intent, as if he was committing every inch of you to memory.

“seem to be in a big rush,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “try not to miss me too much.” you scoffed, finally pulling your top over your head. the fabric felt like armor, shielding you from his piercing gaze, though you could still feel it. “bite me,” you snapped, turning to face him.

the smirk that spread across his face was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of your reaction. “well,” he drawled, his eyes flicking down to your legs, “if your legs are any indication, i think i already have.” confused, you glanced down, and your breath caught in your throat. bruises. his marks. scattered along your inner thighs like some twisted declaration of possession. heat flooded your cheeks, a mix of anger and humiliation that made your head spin.

when you looked back up, his gaze was unwavering, his fingers reaching out to brush against the bruised skin. the touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent a jolt through you nonetheless. “tell me this was a mistake,” he said, his voice soft and smooth, yet commanding. you opened your mouth, ready to deliver the cutting remark he deserved, but the words wouldn’t come. his eyes held you captive, dark and searching, and the goosebumps that rose on your skin betrayed you.

“it was a mistake,” you managed to say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. jungkook tilted his head, his expression unreadable as his fingers continued to trace lazy circles on your thigh. “then why don’t you sound like you mean it?”

you stepped back, breaking his touch and the spell he seemed to have cast over you. “believe it or not, but i do,” you said, though the words felt hollow. he didn’t respond, just watched you with that same infuriating smirk as you grabbed the rest of your things and fled the room.

the party roared to life in a way that only taehyung could pull off. the island, once serene and peaceful, had transformed into a haven for decadence. fireworks lit up the night sky in an endless symphony of colors, their reflections shimmering on the dark water. music thundered from colossal speakers strategically placed along the beach, the bass so heavy it vibrated through the sand. people danced with wild abandon, their bodies swaying and colliding under the flickering light of bonfires scattered across the shore. drinks flowed, laughter echoed in the air, and the atmosphere was thick with an intoxicating mix of salt and cheap beer.

you weaved your way through the throng of people, the cacophony of sound and light almost overwhelming. the drink in your hand had long since lost its appeal, but you clung to it as a distraction, something to occupy your trembling fingers. your mind buzzed with unease, your nerves stretched thin under the weight of one singular thought: avoid jungkook at all costs. you couldn’t bear the thought of another confrontation, another one of his sharp words cutting into you like glass.

stumbling slightly, you glanced around for a quieter corner, somewhere you could breathe. your head was spinning, whether from the alcohol or the oppressive tension of the night, you weren’t sure. just as you thought you’d found a moment of peace, a pair of hands suddenly covered your eyes from behind. panic seized you, your breath catching in your throat as your heart raced.

you spun around, ready to lash out, only to be met with taehyung’s familiar, mischievous grin. his golden skin glowed under the light of the bonfires, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead, damp from the humidity. “ants up your ass?” he teased, his voice lilting with amusement. “jesus, dude,” you muttered, letting out a shaky laugh as you tried to steady your pounding heart. “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“relax,” he said, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “you’re too tense. come on, i’ve got just the thing to fix that.” before you could protest, he guided you down the beach, the noise of the crowd fading slightly as you moved further from the epicenter of the party. he stopped beside a cooler buried halfway in the sand, crouching down to rummage through it. with a triumphant smile, he pulled out a mai tai, holding it out like it was a prize.

“see how i remembered your favorite?” he said, his grin widening. “i should get some credit for that.” you couldn’t help but laugh, accepting the drink from him. “you get all the credit, tae,” you said, cracking open the can and taking a sip. the sweet, citrusy flavor was refreshing, and for a moment, you felt a bit of the tension leave your shoulders.

the two of you settled by one of the smaller bonfires, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the ocean breeze. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you in a way few things could. “i have to admit something,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and conspiratorial. he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers light against your skin.

“what is it?” you asked, matching his tone. “i’m so fucked right now,” he whispered, his words slurring slightly as he dissolved into laughter. you couldn’t help it—you laughed, too, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as the ridiculousness of the moment hit you. for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe. but the moment shattered like glass as a voice cut through the laughter, sharp and cold.

“what’s so funny?” the entire beach seemed to freeze. the music, the laughter, even the waves crashing against the shore all faded into the background as you looked up. jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes locked on you and taehyung, his expression thunderous.

taehyung was on his feet in an instant, his playful demeanor replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. “who the fuck invited you?” he snapped, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of a few nearby partygoers. jungkook’s gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. “ask your girlfriend,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “she sure knows how to get around.”

the words hit like a slap, your cheeks flushing with equal parts anger and embarrassment. before you could react, taehyung lunged forward, his fist connecting with jungkook’s jaw with a sickening thud. “taehyung, stop!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos.

jungkook retaliated immediately, his fist slamming into taehyung’s side with enough force to make him stumble. the two of them were a blur of motion, fists flying and curses ringing out as a small crowd began to gather. “knock it off!” jimin’s voice rang out as he pushed his way through the crowd, grabbing taehyung and pulling him back.

you darted forward, grabbing jungkook’s arm and tugging him away with all the strength you could muster. “let’s go,” you hissed, dragging him toward the parking lot. “shit,” he muttered, wiping at his nose. blood smeared across his hand, and he winced. “think he broke my fucking nose.”

“oh, please,” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. “like you weren’t begging for it.” you stopped beside his car, spinning around to face him. “what the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, your voice rising. for a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes searching yours. the silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you like a vice.

“you’re such a dick,” you continued, your frustration spilling over. “always starting shit, always—” before you could finish, jungkook slammed his hands against the car, the sound reverberating through the night. one of his fists hit the rearview mirror, knocking it loose. “you’re my problem,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

his hands grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the car. his face was inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes burned into yours. “you’ve been my problem since the night we met,” he growled. “since you walked onto my property that night, flashing your shit like sharon stone.”

fear twisted in your gut, but you refused to let it show. “go to hell, you fucking asshole,” you spat, your voice trembling. “i’d take those two minutes of getting fucked by you back if i could.” to your surprise, he laughed—a dark, humorless sound that sent a shiver down your spine. he stepped back for a moment, pacing like a caged animal before slamming his hand against the car next to your head.

“some fucking nerve you have,” he said, his voice a venomous whisper. “feeling that dipshit up right in front of me.”

“what's it to you, asshole?” you snapped, shoving against his chest with all your might. his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head with one hand as his other cupped your jaw. “did he fuck you yet?” he asked, his tone sharp and cruel. “does he know who popped your cherry?”

the words hit like a punch to the gut, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “get lost,” you bit out, your voice shaking with rage. “maybe that slut from your golf tournament'll help you find your way back.” a bitter laugh escaped his lips as he leaned in closer. “you can’t be serious,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear.

“why not?” you bit out. “she’s easier to get into than community college, why the fuck not?” before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours, silencing your tirade. you tried to resist, your hands pushing against him, but his grip was unyielding. slowly, against your better judgment, you gave in.

when he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. “she’s my friend’s girlfriend, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered. for a second, you almost felt like an idiot, but you couldn’t let yourself feel like one. why should you? “you’re the one who wanted something casual,” you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper.

for a moment, he said nothing, the tension between you thick and suffocating. it was all because he knew you had the upper hand. then, without a word, he kissed you again. this time, you didn’t resist. you let the anger, the frustration, and the twisted desire take over, surrendering to the fire that had been burning between you all along.

his lips moved with a bruising intensity, claiming yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. the tension between you crackled like lightning, the weight of his jealousy and your own suppressed emotions combusting into a heated clash. his grip on your wrists didn’t loosen, pinning you against the cool metal of the car as his body pressed flush against yours. his tongue swept across your lower lip, demanding entry, and when you opened up to him, the kiss deepened into something raw and consuming.

when he finally pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his dark eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. his hand slid down from your jaw to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against the sensitive skin as his lips ghosted over your jawline. “you think that asshole could ever make you feel this way?” he muttered against your skin, his voice low and rough, dripping with jealousy.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat when his lips found the curve of your neck. he kissed his way down slowly, deliberately, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you trembling. you gasped when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot, one he knew like the back of his hand, your body arching into his as your hands twisted in his shirt, desperate for an anchor.

“answer me,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your neck. his tongue flicked over the spot he’d just bitten, soothing the sting with an intimacy that sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“jungkook—” you breathed, barely able to form coherent words. “that’s not an answer,” he growled, his hands releasing your wrists only to find their way to your hips. his fingers dug into your flesh possessively as he pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between yours in a way that left no space between your bodies.

your head fell back against the car as he continued his assault on your neck, his lips and teeth working in tandem to leave marks that you knew would be there for days. his jealousy was palpable, woven into every kiss, every touch, every deliberate pause as he refused to give you the release you so desperately craved. “taehyung couldn’t do this to you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone now, his voice a sinful whisper. “he couldn’t make you feel like this, could he?”

“stop,” you gasped, though your hands betrayed you as they slid up his chest, curling into his shirt and pulling him closer.

“stop lying to yourself,” he shot back, his hands sliding over the fabric of your bikini, his palms warm against your bare skin as he palmed at the flesh of your tits. his thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles down your sides as he kissed his way back up to your jawline, his lips brushing yours but never quite closing the distance. you whimpered, the sound torn from your throat as his teeth grazed your ear. “say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. “say he could never touch you like this.”

your lips trembled, torn between pride and the undeniable truth that jungkook had you under his spell, as he always had. but he didn’t wait for your answer. instead, his lips finally descended on yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth like he was memorizing every inch of you. his hands roamed greedily, one slipping under the hem of your shirt while the other gripped your thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist. the position left you completely at his mercy, your body pinned against the car with no escape from the heat radiating off him.

“admit it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine. his hand slid higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your bra as his lips moved to your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “admit i’m the only one whos ever gonna make you feel this way.”

you hated how right he was, how your body responded to his every touch, every word, every possessive look. your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as your resolve shattered completely. “only you, kook,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. “no one else, i promise.”

the heat between the two of you was suffocating, consuming, as his lips captured yours in a fervent kiss while his hands fumbled to open the back door of his car. he groaned into your mouth as the door clicked open, his lips never leaving yours as he maneuvered the two of you into the backseat. the kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, a clash of frustration, jealousy, and raw desire that made your head spin.

your knees straddled his hips as you hovered over him, your breathing erratic as his hands roamed your body. his fingers slid up your sides, brushing over the thin strings of your bikini top, and he pulled back just enough to look at you. his dark eyes were heavy with lust as they trailed down your body, lingering on the way your bikini struggled to contain you. “fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick and dripping with approval. “bikini’s too small for you, doll.”

your cheeks burned under his gaze, but before you could respond, his hands tugged at the ties of your top, and his head dipped down, burying itself between your tits as they dropped out. his lips were hot against your skin, kissing and sucking with an unrelenting hunger that left you breathless.

“got the best rack on the island, don’t you?” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less vulgar. the words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, equal parts demeaning and intoxicating, because it was him—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically possessive. “stop,” you gasped, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer even as you protested. “anyone could walk by and see us.”

he didn’t even pause, too busy sucking a mark into the soft flesh of your chest. “let ’em see,” he grunted, his teeth grazing the swell of your breast before his tongue followed, soothing the sting. “wan’em to see who gets to fuck you stupid.” your breath hitched as his lips traced the faint tan lines left behind by your swimsuit, his warm tongue licking over them with a softness that contrasted the possessive grip of his hands on your hips.

with a smirk that could only be described as pure evil, he slapped your left tit, the sound echoing in the car. your eyes went wide with shock and arousal, your mouth dropping open on a silent cry.

his grip tightened around your hips as he slapped the right one, the sting spreading like wildfire across your chest, leaving you trembling. “shit, you like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “you like when i show you who’s in charge?” you nodded frantically, unable to form words, your eyes glazed over with desire. jungkook chuckled, the sound dark and sinful, as he continued his assault, slapping each boob in turn, watching as your nipples grew harder with every impact.

you watched as he hoisted one of your legs up and, to your astonishment, pressed his pelvis against the bare flesh of your thigh. at first, you almost didn’t get it, until you felt it. through his khaki shorts, rock hard and throbbing. “you feel how hard you make me, doll?” you felt it, of course you did, but just in case you didn’t, he made sure to guide your hand over his clothed dick. you allowed yourself to feel him up, to relish in the sight of him throwing his head back in bliss as you stroked his thick, solid cock as best as you could through his shorts.

his eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips, and that was all the encouragement you needed. you leaned back, pressing the weight of your palm against his cock, and whispered, “fuck me, jungkook. please, need it so badly.” the words were like a spell, and he was the one under it. his eyes snapped to yours, filled with something akin to desperation. without another word, he yanked down the waistband of his shorts, freeing his cock with an urgency that made your mouth water. it was big, bigger than you remembered, and it was all for you.

his hand was on the back of your neck, pushing down as he guided his cock to your mouth, and you opened for him, eager to taste him, to have him fill you in every way possible. the tip of his dick was wet with pre-cum, and you licked at it like it was a summer treat. his hips bucked up, and he cursed under his breath. “finally putting that mouth to good use,” he murmured, his hand tightening slightly as he pushed further into your mouth. you took as much of him as you could, feeling his girth stretch your lips wide, and the sound he made was all the reward you needed.

his other hand slid down your stomach and hooked into the string of your bikini bottoms, tugging them aside to expose your drenched pussy. his thumb brushed against your clit, and you moaned around his cock. “got your panties all wet, baby,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to pump into your mouth with a steady rhythm. you felt yourself getting wetter with every stroke, his roughness only adding to the thrill. the anticipation of what was to come was almost too much to handle.

his hand moved from your neck to the base of his cock, and he began to fuck your mouth in earnest, his eyes never leaving yours. the smell of your arousal filled the car, mixing with the salty scent of the sea breeze that filtered through the open windows. you could feel your orgasm building, but he knew it. he knew how close you were, and he wasn't about to let you cum that easily. “you're not getting off until i say so,” he warned, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, the promise of pleasure just out of reach.

his free hand slid down to your throat, his grip firm but not painful as he began to choke you. the air grew thinner, and your eyes watered, but you didn't fight it. instead, you leaned into the feeling, letting his dominance wash over you like a wave. the pressure built alongside your need for air and the pressure in your clit, creating a cocktail of sensations that made your head spin. he knew he was close, but he wasn’t going to dump his seed anywhere but inside you.

his thumb slid down, pressing hard against your clit, and you felt the orgasm start to build. your eyes widened, and you tried to moan around his cock, but the sound was muffled by his thick shaft. “just like that, fuck,” he grunted, his eyes dark with lust. “keep going, just a little bit more.”

his other hand left your neck to fist your hair, and he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop. your mouth was left gaping, and he smirked at the sight, his dick still hard and gleaming with your saliva. “need’a get a good look at you,” he murmured, his voice gruff with need. “should see how fucked you look, and ’m not even through with you.”

you whined, your knees hitting the sticky car floor with a thud as you positioned yourself over his hips. unfortunately, he was right. your lips were bruised, chin stained with spit, your make-up smeared, and your hair a mess. it only turned him on even more, his cock was now fully exposed, bobbing in front of your face, and he stroked it lazily as he watched you, the smugness in his gaze unmistakable. “you’re so fucking eager, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “desperate to take all of me, to let me use you like the stupid bitch you are.”

his words only served to inflame the fire in your belly, and you nodded, your cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and arousal. “yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i’m your cocksleeve, nobody else’s.” his grip on your hair tightened, and he guided his cock back to your mouth. “prove it,” he demanded, pushing inside you until you gagged. your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate him, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you took a deep breath and took him even deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat.

his hand moved to your chin, and he slapped your pussy again, the sound echoing in the car. “you love this, don’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl. “love this first class slut specialty, huh?” you couldn't speak, but you nodded, your eyes pleading for him to keep going. he slapped you again, and again, the sting turning to pleasure, making your clit throb with each impact. the sound of your own wetness filled the air as he chuckled darkly, his grip on your hair never loosening.

his free hand slid down to your pussy, his fingers sliding through your juices before pushing inside you, curling up to hit your g-spot. you moaned, the feeling of being filled both in your mouth and in your cunt too much to bear, and you felt your orgasm start to crest. just as you were about to cum, he pulled out of your mouth, his hand moving from your neck to cover your mouth and nose. “not yet,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “not until i say you can.”

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in firm circles, the pressure building until you thought you would scream. “please, fuck, please,” you whined, your hips bucking against his hand. “please let me cum, need it so bad.”

his grin was feral as he leaned back against the car seat, watching you squirm. “who’s the one in charge here?” he asked, his voice a taunt. “who gets to decide when you get to come?”

you bit your lip, your eyes pleading with him as you nodded, the words leaving you in a rush. “you do,” you panted. “you do, jungkook.” his hand stilled, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “good girl, using your brain for once,” he cooed, his voice a sweet caress that belied the darkness in his words. “now, you can cum for me.”

his hand on your clit began to move again, faster this time, and you couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, making your body convulse as you came, hard and fast, your pussy clenching around his fingers. just as you thought it was over, you felt his thick fingers wrap around your thighs, turning you over as he positioned himself against your cunt from behind.

“jungkook, please, ’s too much,” you cried out, still coming down from your first orgasm as tears filled your eyes, but he had no intention to listen. you knew it the second you felt his fat, thick tip probing at your cunt, your back arching as his hands pulled at the flesh of your ass. he taunted you a bit, determined to hurt you as much as he could, pushing his tip in ever so slightly, before pulling right back out.

you felt like sobbing, the feeling all to much for you as you held onto the car door for dear life. “beg me,” he murmured, even if he needed to resist his own urges. “beg me to split this pussy open, baby, use your words.”

you didn’t want to, but the desperation in your voice was clear as you whimpered, “please, jungkook, fuck me. please, i need it so badly."

his hand tightened on your throat, and he thrust into you with no warning, filling you in one brutal stroke. you screamed out, the pain mixing with pleasure as he claimed you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. “fuck, still as tight as you were when i popped your cherry,” he groaned, his hips pumping into you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make everything feel sharper. “this is what you want, isn’t it?”

you nodded frantically, the pressure on your neck making it difficult to speak. “yes,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes, fuck, it’s what i need.”

his thrusts grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fucked you against the car door. “ass bouncing ’gainst my fuckin’ balls,” he groaned, his voice strained as he delivered a harsh smack to the flesh of your ass. how you loved knowing he'd leave more than enough marks for everyone to see. “so fucking tight. i love how you grip me.”

you felt his hand slide down to your clit, his fingers moving in a way that had you seeing stars. “you're gonna cum for me again,” he said, his voice a command. “gonna cum while i'm filling your tight little pussy up, okay?” you nodded again, unable to form words, your eyes squeezed shut as he worked your body like a fiddle, playing you into a symphony of pleasure and pain. your moans grew louder, and you could feel the second orgasm building, a storm in your belly that threatened to consume you.

his hand on your neck loosened slightly, but before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours again, swallowing your cries as his cock pounded into you. every thrust seemed like borderline abuse, the tip of his cock slamming against your cervix with every move. he was so big, so fucking big, filling you up, making a mold of his cock with your insides. his thumb circled your clit faster, and you felt the wave of pleasure crest again, your body shuddering as you came a second time. your walls clamped down on his cock, and he groaned against your skin, his own climax following closely behind.

his orgasm was like nothing you had ever felt before, his hot cum filling you up as he held you down, his cock pulsing deep inside you. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, his body shaking with the force of it. “so good, baby, so good.”

finally, he pulled out of you, his cum dripping down your thighs as you slumped against the car door, boneless and utterly spent. jungkook smirked as he looked down at the mess he had made of you, his cock still half hard, glistening with your juices. “see?” he said, his voice smug. “no one else can do that to you.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: i have a few things to talk about all of them very important obviously.

1. loossemble disbanding is crazy work!

2. i feel like we as a society failed to appreciate the cinematic masterpiece that is malcolm in the middle.

3. i had a wet dream abt revenge of the sith anakin last night.

4. i am the only person who watched the oc ever and if u watched it i watched it better than u.

5. i know u got a fat ASS 💜 u know i love a fat ASS 💜

6. In Korea, you can't eat until the elders eat. Ningning is the maknae, which means she's the youngest, and the fact that she ate first is crazy. I'm not trying to be – I'm not trying to be messy, I promise you. I'm just saying, that's crazy.

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jomiddlemarch · 5 months ago

Text

A handkerchief of her own sewing

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.-- Emerson

Year One

Anne hemmed a dozen handkerchiefs with her monogram and hand-tatted the lace to edge each square. She ruined the first one weeping, burned it instead of letters, as she had none from him.

Lady Russell did not comment on the fact that her dozen was short. She insisted Anne buy a new bonnet, one trimmed with pink ribbon.

Year Two

Anne hemmed a handkerchief while Elizabeth complained about the number of Naval officers at Lady Vincent’s ball. Anne counted stitches instead of Elizabeth’s complaints, knowing her sister would exceed the capacity of her thread.

Year Three

Anne embroidered the handkerchief for Mary to carry to her wedding. Charles had waited six months before proposing, long enough for a respectable courtship. He’d found Anne alone once and said You’re certain, Nan, it isn’t too late, but she’d known she wasn’t ruining anyone life when she said no.

Year Four

Anne kept an extra handkerchief in her reticule when she visited Uppercross. Mary fretted that there were draughts in every room and the fires all smoked, Cook used too much pepper and the yellow paper in the sitting room would make a blind man’s eyes water.

Mrs. Musgrove patted Mary’s hand and smiled at Anne. They had all expected Mary’s first confinement to be a bit difficult.

Year Five

Anne sewed handkerchiefs for the housekeeper Mrs. Cadell to distribute to all the staff. It was a bad year for the grippe. Her father instructed her to economize and then ordered a case of the best Madeira.

Her own handkerchiefs had ceased to be used for tears.

Year Six

Anne gave her nephew Charles his first handkerchief, his name spelled out in bright red silk. He wore it as a hat more often than attending to his nose. Mary lay on a chaise with a handkerchief soaked in cologne laid across her eyes, vowing that she had never felt so ill in her life and insisting Anne hand her another comfit.

Francis Musgrove weighed ten pounds when he was born.

Year Seven

For her birthday, the vicar gave her a silver thimble in appreciation for all the girls she’d taught and all the handkerchiefs and shirts she’d sewn for the poor. When Anne put it on, she saw her hands had begun to look old.

She took the thimble off and touched the base of her finger where Frederick had promised to put a rose-cut diamond as bright as her eyes.

Year Eight

Captain Wentworth offered a handkerchief to Henrietta Musgrove after her sister’s injury. Anne saw the faded monogram in the corner, pale blue after many launderings, remembered how solemn he’d been when he’d asked her to give him a token of her esteem, how he’d grinned when she’d handed it to him, as carefully folded as a flag.

Anne swallowed her tears.

Year Nine

Anne hemmed a dozen handkerchiefs with her monogram and hand-tatted the lace to edge each square. From the bow of the ship, she waved the delicate article, the sails billowing behind her. Frederick’s hand was warm at her waist and he murmured I’ve got you, madam, make no mistake.

The tears in Anne’s eyes she blinked away.

Written and posted (a day late, hopefully not a dollar short!) for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month for prompt: handkerchief

#janeuary 2025 #persuasion #anne elliot #frederick wentworth #anne/frederick #mary musgrove #charles musgrove #lady russell #angsty start #handkerchief #jaff #hea

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nglitchx · 6 months ago

Text

Arcane - Claggor

Title// Black Cloaked

Type: X Reader

(W.I.P): I slowly update the same post with new paragraphs so don’t be surprised if it’s suddenly longer than when you last read it.

CHAPTER ONE

During a cold gloomy night below, footsteps could be heard through the alleyways. The sounds quickening with every passing moment. The desperate figure, unable to catch their breath continues to rush through the darkness. Coming across what seems to be a dead end, the person freezes. Trying to figure a way out, unable to process how to escape as the footsteps of the enforcers echoed closer. The cloaked individual finally took a breath and leaned against the wall in defeat. ‘Guess this is it..’ the person thought while sliding down the wall. ‘So much for an easy loot.’ They thought while pulling a shiny gem from their pants. The glimmering blue, slightly lighting the area showing the girls tired and sweat covered face. “So much hassle over some blue bal-“ she stopped as she noticed a hole in the corner of her eye. Internally praising the light the ball gave her, she rushed towards the hole. So what if she didn’t know where it lead, it seemed like a better option than torture or jail. Pocketing the gem she entered the darkness, narrowly escaping the enforcers that were after her.

She crawled through the strange feeling tunnel all the way into an empty room. Exhausted from the chase, she sat on what looked to be old crates. While assessing her surroundings she freezes at the sound of a door opening. “You sure you want them in here?” said a voice. “Yeah, we only have so much space available.” Responded someone else. As quickly as the person entered she clocked them in the face. There now laid a tan man with a mustache unconscious. The items that were once in his arms went crashing to the floor, thus alarming the other man in the place. “What the-“ before he could even finish she lunged at him. He of course, after realizing what was happening tried to defend himself. They continued to fight in the building, knocking over trinkets and gadgets. After tussling for some time, he managed to land a proper punch on the cloaked girl. Her body flew across the room. Stumbling to get up, he slowly approached her with a bat in hand. “Now, you gonna tell me who the hell you are, or am I gonna have to force you?” He breathed heavily while wiping the blood off his chin. “Neither” she stated while quickly kicking him in the nuts. Not expecting that, the brunette man fell to the floor. While gripping his lower region in pain, the cloaked girl head butted him unconscious. Letting out a breathe of relief, she looked around the building for some kind of rope. After managing to acquire said rope she tied the two men to some chairs.

The hood of her cloak fell as she ran her fingers through her hair. She contemplated how to go about the situation. She’s already wanted for theft, and avoiding arrest, if she murdered the two men in front of her that would only add up her charges. She eyed the unconscious individuals, wondering if they’d keep their mouths shut after the whole ordeal. ‘The short one looks like he’d squeal.’ She thought releasing the grip on his face. “You however… you sir look a lot better when you aren’t punching me.” She mumbled tracing his face as she noticed the big man’s good looks. Instantly, the lass took a step back. Was she really checking out some random dude whom she just fought? None sense, he had just threatened her with a bat. Not unjustly however, it would have been weird if he didn’t after she snuck in and attacked them. Finally coming to a decision she decided to leave them tied up, at least till morning. The feeling of exhaustion was consuming her but she had to make sure this place was locked and secure before even thinking of shutting her eyes. Finally finishing, she sat in a corner with a weapon in hand. The woman closed her eyes hoping to gain some rest before the men awoke. However, morning came much faster than anticipated and she woke up to the sounds of people whispering.

”You know, for a master lock picker, you’re shit at knots.” The bigger man whispered. “Are you seriously comparing locks with knots right now?!” Yelled the scrawny guy. “Mylo, shut it, you’ll wake her up.” He scolded. The two continued to struggle against the rope. Never in their lives had someone ever tied them up in such a manner. “What if we wait it out? Ekko is sure to pop in.” Mylo commented with hope. “Fat chance. He has a date with powder. We’re screwed if we can’t break free.” Chimed the other. The skinny one groaned in despair, if only he could reach the knife on the desk. He found it ridiculous how throughly tied he was. Both men had their chests, arms and legs tied to the chairs. And if that wasn’t enough, the intruder tied their elbows, knees and chairs together. Finally giving up because of the feeling of their skin chaffing against the rope, the men sat there in silence. The cloaked girl opened her eyes slightly to see the guys no longer moving. After seeing that they were still in fact tied up she spoke. “I’m not looking to harm you.” She stated with her arms crossed. The men shifted their gaze towards her after hearing her speak. “Not looking to harm us? You broke in, pummeled us and then tied us up.” Yelled the one she assumes is Mylo. “Well, to be fair she knocked you out cold with one punch. So I wouldn’t exactly say you were pummeled” Said his bigger friend. “What the hell does that have to do with anything.” The other responded causing them to both bicker. While the two men argued, the girl stood up from her corner and walked towards them. She grabbed Mylo’s head and forced him to look her in the eye. “Look, if I wanted you dead, you’d be facing God right now.” She stated letting go of his head harshly. She walked towards the bigger man, eyeing him. “I just needed a place to crash for the night. So how about we keep this mess between us?” She smiled, hoping they’d agree. She was wrong, the men looked at her as if she had made an absurd request.

“Who the fuck would agree to that?” Mylo asked baffled. The girl walked about the room, while twirling the knife in her hand. She sat on the desk and looked towards the boys. “I’m not above gagging and leaving you tied. But I’d much rather spend my energy elsewher-“ she stopped as she noticed a framed drawing. Unable to take her eyes off it, she takes the drawing in her hand. A familiar blue haired girl was on the sheet, but she looked different. “Jinx?” She mumbled slightly panicked. Something didn’t feel right, a sudden coldness filled her body. Her breathing started to feel heavy, as she started to remember things she had done her hardest to forget. “Hey are you alright?” The boys tried asking but she was unable to hear them. A ringing filled her head as she fell to the ground. Dazed, she tried lifting herself but wound up knocking the knife off the desk. The cloaks hood came off her head as she gripped her hair in agony. The blade she knocked over was now up against the chair of one of the men. With how the knife fell against his chair, the bigger man slowly moved his fingers to try and grab hold of it when suddenly, the girl stopped gripping her hair. The noise in her head had stopped. She could finally breathe again. Realizing her hair was showing, she hooded herself once again. Wanting to get as far away as possible, she rushed towards the door. “Our time was short but let us never meet again. Bye bye.” She waved while quickly exiting. “Well great, now what the hell do we do?” Mylo whined annoyed that he was still tied. Not knowing his brother was already breaking free of the rope, he continued to try and wiggle himself out. “My dear brother, we do what we do best.” He said back. “And that is?” His brother looked at him with a raised brow. “We break free.” The big man grunted after snapping the rest of the rope with his strength. He stood up from the chair and began to cut his brother free. “Ho ho well, I believe we have a criminal to catch Claggor.” He smiled towards his brother. “I believe you are correct Mylo” Claggor responded while looking towards the door the woman had ran out from.

Rushing to get far away, she ran with all she could. You would think trying to avoid crashing into anyone isn’t difficult but easier said than done apparently. This woman somehow managed to crash face first into a broad male chest. With a thud, she fell to the floor. A light groan escaped her lips from landing on her ass. ”You alright there?” Asked a voice. The woman went to respond but she held her voice back after seeing who was in-front of her. There stood a man with long hair and a beard, a man she was sure was long dead. “That’s impossible…” she gasped. The man leaned down to try and give her a hand but she flinched back. He raised an eyebrow in confusion towards her actions. Before he could get a word out, some yelling could be heard from the distance. “There Claggor, she’s over there!” Yelled Mylo. Immediately the woman got out of her daze and booked it once again, this time towards an alleyway. Claggor and Mylo tried running past the long haired man but they didn’t get that far. “Whoa whoa, what are you two doing” He questioned while grabbing the backs of their collars to keep them from running off. “Vander let go” Mylo said struggling against his grip. “He’s right, she’s getting away.” Claggor responded. Vander looked at the men then looked in the direction where the woman ran off to. “You’re not planning any funny business are you? I raised you better than that.” He scolded. The men looked at him and assured that it wasn’t like that. After quickly explaining, they managed to convince him to let them go. “We’re never gonna find her now.” Mylo said annoyed. “Let’s split up, we’ll be able to cover more ground.” Claggor suggested. Mylo nodded his head in agreement and went towards the main areas, leaving Claggor to the alleyways.

—————————————-

AN: I haven’t done fanfics since Middle School. I’m also very much new to Tumblr. Hopefully I don’t wind up dropping this. Anyway, this is just the beginning of the story, if Tumblr lets me edit posts after posting then I’ll add more onto here. If it doesn’t, then I’ll just do a continuation on another post.

AN 2: So Tumblr does in fact allow me to edit posts, awesome. Just added a new paragraph to the story.

AN 3: Fixed some stuff in the other paragraphs and I added a 5th paragraph. I’m thinking about doing at least 10 paragraphs per chapter. Any thoughts? Anyways stay tuned for the next paragraphs.

#claggor x reader #arcane #x reader #Fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends

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dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms

♡♡♡

Your mother does not keep her thoughts to herself about what dancing with Benedict Bridgerton may have done for you. All evening, even after you are home, she continues on and on about the thought of having callers come morning.

You sleep easy that night. You do not think one dance with a man, you will be unlikely ever to cross paths again with, will affect your prospects all that much.

You're woken by the violent pulling of your curtains. Light floods into your room and cascades across your bed. You sigh softly as you force your eyes open and push yourself up into a sitting position.

"Get up! We must get you dressed and ready!" Your mother eagerly exclaims.

You're forced from your bed and urged into the tub. You're scrubbed raw from head to toe. Your hair is brushed surely a hundred times. You dress, and your mother chooses a necklace to compliment your gown.

Before you know it, you're sitting in the drawing room with her. Your mother has tea and biscuits made.

The drawing room is quiet.

Occasionally, a carriage is heard passing the house. Sometimes you hear the footsteps of staff coming and going outside the door. Not a single sound of knocking is heard.

Your mother becomes restless as the hours pass. "I was certain Mr Bridgerton dancing with you would garner some attention."

"Mother, it was one dance. Anyway, people had their eyes on his sister. No one was looking at us. He barely spoke to me." You tell her, picking up a book you had placed on the table earlier that morning.

"Still, that family is well known and wealthy too. People should always be watching those lf well breeding." She sighs.

You dare not comment further and focus on your book. You've read two chapters before your mother calls it quits and leaves. You close the book and sigh again.

♡♡♡

Daphne Bridgerton had received no callers. The fault did not lie with her for she was perfect in every way. The fault lay with her eldest brother.

Anthony had a habit of scaring everyone off. He had every excuse under the sun as to why no one was suitable for his sister. While his mother wished love for her children I their marriages, Anthony saw more as finding someone merely suitable.

Daphne was disappointed at her lack of visitors. Each day that passed without a caller, her spirit began to dwindle.

She received only one caller. Lord Berbrooke. He was the last person she had hoped to see.

While Violet had been quite busy keeping her daughter company during the passing days, she still found time to corner Benedict.

Colin was paying a visit to the Featherington family to call upon Miss Thompson. Benedict was not calling upon anyone, and Violet hoped the young lady he had danced with could have been an option.

"Benedict."

The second eldest son jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of his mother in the doorway.

"Mother."

Benedict had spent most of the day sketching in his book. He loved drawing, painting, and doodling. Art was his passion. He hoped one day to be good enough to have his work up in galleries.

"Have you paid any visits yet?" Violet asks, pretending to be interested in the decor of the room as she comes closer to where her son lounges.

Benedict stills his hand and glances up at her. "I have not."

Violet looks disappointed. "What about that lovely young lady you danced with?"

"Hm? Oh. I don't even remember her name."

That was a lie. He did remember your name. He just didn't want give his mother false hope. Benedict had no intention of seeking out a wife right now.

"Benedict," she sighs. "I do wish you would try."

"How is Daphne doing?" He asks, immediately shooting down any chance of his mother's interrogation.

"Not so well. Anthony is riding with her in the park. Your brother is... making things quite difficult." Violet feels for her daughter. She juat wants Daphne to be happy. She wants all her children to be happy.

"Yes. Anthony can be overbearing." Benedict resumes his sketch.

Violet knew she would get nothing else out of her son and left quietly. Benedict stopped sketching when she left the room and glanced at the door. He sighs softly to himself.

One day, yes, he'll find a wife. Just not yet.

♡♡♡

Lady Whistledown had made several comments about Daphne Bridgerton's lack of callers. You could only wonder how she was feeling at this time.

Every morning, your mother brought you into the drawing room, and you would wait several hours, but no one came to see you.

While your mother moaned about how the gentlemen lf the ton didn't have an eye at all, she particularly felt disappointed about the fact Benedict Bridgerton himself didn't even come to call. You had told her many times over the last week that the dance wasn't really anything.

He simply used you as an opportunity to avoid his mother, and you knew it.

Deciding to push every Bridgerton from your mind, you decided to focus on yourself. Another ball would mean another chance. There would be plenty of people to dance with there. You shall make sure to introduce yourself, unlike last time.

The opera. That came first. You were attending with your mother. As you were making your way toward your seats, you caught sight of Violet Bridgerton with her daughter Daphne. You didn't have to look far to spot Anthony and Benedict.

Your mind shifts slightly to the moment when you had bumped into the eldest son. The weight of his body colliding with yours, almost sending to the ground. However, his warm hands were quick to steady you.

You shake him from your mind as you find your seat.

Benedict had been speaking his brother when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of you sitting down. He turns his attention back to his brother.

If his mother caught him, he would never hear the end of it. Even if there was nothing to discuss. You were a perfect stranger to him.

You spend the whole show with your eyes on the stage. When it's over, you rise with your mother and exit into the lobby. Your mother gets caught up in conversation with some of the other mama's, and you find yourself waiting by the door alone. Your eyes scan the crowds of people heading home for the evening.

Benedict is walking with his brother when he spots you by the door. He can't help thinking you look a little cold standing there. The door was open to allow people to leave with ease.

"Hello again." He finds himself stopping I front of you. Anthony either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he is no longer being followed by his brother.

You turn your head and find yourself staring at the second Bridgerton.

"Hello."

Silence settles between you as he stands there and looks at you. You're once again faced with a slightly awkward pause as you have no idea what to say to him. Last time, he was distracted by keeping his mother at bay. This time, it seems he simply has no idea what to say to you either.

"Are you well?" He asks.

You are almost startled by the sound of his voice, half expecting him to just leave after a while.

"Yes. Quite well, thank you."

Benedict takes note of how you pull your shawl around you tighter. The breeze from the door is clearly bothering you.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asks.

"My Mama. She is busy gossiping, I assume." You move your gaze over to where she stands, talking to a little group of other mothers.

Benedict glances that way and chuckles slightly. "Ah. Why don't you wait over on that bench? You'll be warmer there." He gestures to the velvet cushioned seat behind you. You find yourself drifting that way with him.

"I believe your brother has departed." You say, sitting down. Benedict takes a seat too.

"Yes. Though Mother and Daphne are still here, I shall return with them." He looks over to where his mother speaks with Lady Danbury.

Soon enough, his attention is back on you, though. "Did you enjoy the ball the other night?" He asks.

You look at him. "It was alright. The first one is always strange."

"Yes. I suppose it can be. Lots of new faces."

You understood that he was possibly referring to the fact that neither of you had seen each other before, despite your knowing of his family.

"Yes."

"How many names did you get on your card?"

"Just one," you confess. It was true that his name was the only one. You danced with no other that night, for no one spared you a glance. Not that you planned on telling him that.

"I was the only one?"

You turn toward the lobby to avoid his gaze. Benedict understands enough. He is surprised by this information.

"I do not recall you being there the day the debutantes were presented to the Queen." He tries changing the topic. He wants to know you a bit better.

"I wasn't in London. I arrived the day after."

He looks at you quietly for a moment. There is something so calming about your presence.

"How is your sister doing?" You ask, spotting Daphne trying to avoid a certain lord.

"She has only had one caller so far." Benedict points out.

"Oh. Surprising. I was sure she would be swarmed with suitors." You glance back toward her. She looks a little down.

"She'll be fine, I'm sure." Benedict turns back to you. "I'm sorry about the ball. I wasn't a very good partner. Too distracted."

You return your attention back to him. "Yes. I was aware."

"Perhaps I can make it up to you at the next one?" He asks.

"It's alright. You don't need to." You offer him a smile.

"Nonsense. I'm a gentleman." He smiles back.

Before either of you can say any more, Violet comes over with Daphne in tow. You both look up to see the Dowager Viscountess smiling at you both.

"Benedict, we are leaving." She speaks softly.

Benedict glances at you and then stands slowly. He offers you his hand. You take it and stand with him.

"Mother. Daphne." He nods.

"Who is this?" Violet asks, looking at you. She gives off a warm and calming aura. Yet, she looks quite excitable right about now.

Benedict speaks your name. "I was keeping the young lady company while she waited for her mother."

Violet hadn't once taken her eyes off of you. Daphne looked up at her brother, who just shook his head at her. He knew what they were thinking. He was going to hear about this all night now.

"You must come to dinner," Violet insists.

You all look at her.

"Mofher." Benedict sighs.

Daphne smiles and steps forward. "Really, you must."

You look at Daphne and feel comfort. Perhaps she is looking for a friend too.

"Name the day," you say, turning to Violet.

Benedict looks at his mother with faux disdain. He knows what game she is playing. His mother was not subtle in her matchmaking attempts.

"Splended. I shall send an invite very soon."

Much to the ignorance of her children, she had already made plans with Lady Danbury to invite the Duke for dinner so he may get to know Daphne. They would make a handsome couple, she thinks. Why not offer the same opportunity to her son and his new friend?

Violet was so looking forward to this.

Benedict bids you goodnight and offers Daphne his arm. She takes it and bids you farewell too. Violet smiles at you and takes her leave, following her children outside.

Only then does your mother come over. "What was that just now?" She asks. The same light in her eyes had been in Violet's.

"Nothing, Mama."

She doesn't believe you. She traps your arm with hers and guides you out to the carriages.

"That Bridgerton boy, he was the one who danced with you at the ball, yes?" She smiles.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Yes."

"Perhaps you have an admirer!" She says with glee.

"Not st all, mother. He was merely being polite."

She brushes off your words and continues to go down a spiral of why he is taken with you and will wish to court you soon. You sense no such feelings from the man. There is no reason one cannot become acquainted with others without feelings being involved.

You would accept the dinner invitation purely out of curious interest of his family. The Bridgerton's certainly seem like interesting people to know.

♡♡♡

Benedict is sketching in his room when his mother comes in. They had been home merely an hour after the opera. She clutches a letter in her hand as she comes over to him.

"How does this sound?" She holds out the letter to him. Benedict sighs and takes it, skimming the words.

Its addressed to you.

'You are invited to our home this Friday evening for dinner. Be here for 6 and stay as long as you like.

Lady V.Bridgerton.'

"Sounds fine." He hands the letter back. Benedict returns to his sketch.

Violet looks at him. "She's a find lady."

"Hm." Benedict pays her little mind.

Violet looks defeated. It would seem Benedict really has no interest in you. Still, she would welcome you into her home for the evening.

When she leaves, Benedict looks up again. He stares at the door.

He simply has no interest in courting. Not yet.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertons - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #female reader #dragon writes #Bridgerton

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