#time for some mood whiplash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evieelyzabethh · 7 months ago

Text

"lacy"

⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)

♞Vi♞

♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her

♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.

♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.

It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.

♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.

★Ekko★

★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.

★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.

★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.

★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.

Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.

★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.

❂Jayce❂

❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.

❂While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.

❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.

❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.

☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.

☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.

☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it

For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."

☼Mel☼

☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.

☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.

Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring. The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."

☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.

☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #mel arcane #mel x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane headcanon

2K notes · View notes

witchbitchlovesdilfs · 19 days ago

Text

Tease

Jack Abbot x f!reader

synopsis: you can hardly concentrate when jack has his readers on

warnings: smut, oral (f), cuts off before it gets real good (sorry), unspecified age gap, language, alcohol

words: 1.3k

a/n: my first smutty fic. hope y'all like it!

mdni below the cut

Jack Abbot is a tease, and you’re his favorite target. He has to know what he’s doing, sliding on those damn reading glasses every time you enter the room. He must notice the way your thighs clench together, or else he’d stop doing it.

In reality, Jack is completely oblivious to his effect on you. At first, he wasn’t sure about his feelings towards you - he felt the heat rise to his cheeks whenever you stepped into his line of sight, the way his pants tightened when you took control in the OR - but you were three quarters his age. It felt wrong.

Wrong when he patted your shoulder when you saved a life, proudly telling you that you did a good job.

Wrong when you sat next to him on one of the park benches after a shift.

Wrong when your fingers brushed while reaching for the same tool.

When Robby started noticing, he realized he had a staring problem. And so did you. At first, every time you caught him looking, you immediately turned away to busy yourself with someone’s chart or pretend you were taking notes. But after a few weeks, you began to maintain eye contact.

And God was that hot.

The first time you met his gaze and held it was after a successful but difficult procedure. You’d been arguing with Walsh about whether you made the right call, and he’d come flying in like he sensed your distress. Maybe he did.

Desperate to prove your point and your worth, you turned to him, looking him dead in the eyes and explaining why you made the choice you did. Jack was frozen under your gaze, studying every particle in your eyes, but he coughed himself out of the daze and commended you for your speedy decision. He rushed out of the room, desperate to hide his blush, as you turned to rub it in Walsh’s face.

The next time you made eye contact was after hours, sitting at a bar with a few other doctors and nursing some beers. You made it there first, squeezing yourself beside Shen and Ellis and chatting about your days. You looked up when Jack slid into the booth across from you, sighing as he finally gave his leg a break. Your eyes met, and you were a goner.

That night, Jack walked you home under the premise of you being drunk. You weren’t drunk - you weren’t even tipsy - and you told him this pointedly, but he insisted anyway. When you arrived at your front porch, you bit your lip and met his eyes again. He couldn’t hide the lust behind them, and you couldn’t ignore it. Dragging him inside, you showed him that the two of you could feel so right.

Several weeks later, and here you are: leaning against the nurses’ station in the ED with a water bottle in your hand and a scowl on your face. When the two of you are together, Jack sticks to wearing his readers as little as possible: you think he’s scared it makes him seem older. But when he’s in the ED, he hardly takes them off - only to exchange them for those surgery goggles.

You huff.

Dana picks up on your mood immediately. “Horny?”

Your head turns so fast you think you might need to get checked for whiplash. “I’m sorry?”

Dana waves you off. “Salt and Pepper over there’s got you all worked up.”

You gape at her. “I’m not horny,” you refute. “I’m admiring.” You take a sip of your water.

“Admiring his dick,” Dana cracks, and you cough on your drink. Jack, standing across the ED talking to Robby, immediately turns to check on you. You wave him off, embarrassed. “Oh my God, no.”

“Oh come on,” Dana huffs. “Everyone knows the two of you are dating.”

Patting your chest to soothe your lungs, you gawk at her. “What? How?”

She turns back to her computer and begins to type. “Us nurses notice everything.”

“So much for privacy,” you mumble, saying goodbye before grabbing a clipboard and making a hasty exit to curtain two.

And of course Abbot comes in after you, asking about the patient’s stats and taking the clipboard with a nod. He slips on his readers, and you drop onto the stool by the patient’s bed. Jack quirks his brow but says nothing as you will your heart to stop beating so hard.

“You can send him home,” Jack says, handing the clipboard back. Your fingers brush, and you flinch. Jack notices, and his lips crack into a smirk. Leaning forward, he whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the empty bay when you’re done.”

You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you.

Jack steps out of the room with a wink.

When you slip into the empty bay of the hospital, it’s dark, and you wonder if Jack even showed. Wandering the halls, you shriek when a hand reaches out to grab you, relaxing when you recognize the calluses and veins. “Hi,” you manage, letting him pin you against a wall. He remains silent, studying you, his gaze stuck on yours as he tries to figure you out.

“You’re horny,” he says finally, and your eyes widen.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you huff.

Jack grins, leaning close and brushing his lips over your throat. “What’s got you all riled up, sweetheart?”

“You!” you groan, moving your hands to his shoulders to support your wobbly legs. “You and those fucking glasses.”

Jack pulls back in surprise. “My readers?”

You nod, moving your hand to fiddle with the glasses hanging from the neck of his scrub top. “How come you don’t wear them around me?”

He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m an old man, doll. And you’re-”

“I’m hot and bothered,” you cut him off, lifting the glasses and setting them on his nose. “It’s unfair. You’re unfair.”

Jack smirks at this. “I’m unfair? Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“Wasn’t so unfair when I was eating you out last night, was I?” he begins to lower himself to his knees, and your jaw drops in surprise. “Didn’t drag it out; let you get what you wanted.” He settles on the floor, looking up at you in those damn glasses, and you swear your heart stops.

Jack’s hands move to fiddle with the string of your scrubs, and you stumble as the lust kicks in. Steadying you, Jack lowers your pants to your ankles before bringing his lips to your thighs and kissing them teasingly. He sucks on the skin just below your panties, and you moan in desperation as he takes the waistband between his teeth and begins to draw your underwear down…down until your perfect cunt it in view.

Jack presses a single kiss to your clit, and you startle. You can feel his grin as his hands move to your hips to hold you in place. “Do you want me to be fair?” he asks, breath fanning your lips and sending a shudder through your spine. “Or do you want me to treat you like the needy slut you are?”

“God, Jack,” you moan, taking his hair in your fist but letting him be in control.

He looks up at you, his glasses already fogged by breath and heat, and drags his tongue through your pussy lips. “I guess I’ll have to start wearing the glasses more often,” he whispers before taking the pebble of your clit between his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours.

All you can do is nod and let him have his fun.

a/n: pain relief pt 3 is next on my list. coming tomorrow?!

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #jack abbott #shawn hatosy #animal kingdom #smut

581 notes · View notes

eraserbread · 3 months ago

Text

𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 part 2 masterlist, listen, nanami tag

help me be a good wife, cause I need him i know, i need him read part 1 nanami goes back to sorcery, and the color comes back to his face. but, all the color drains from yours a/n: I know it's a bit of a hot take writing a canon nanami fic in 2025, but I always wanted to have some version of him wrapped up in the angst of sorcery. his downward/uphill spiral was so beautiful and made him just so special. this is just my way of giving him a sweeter story. brb while I sob.

cw: 18+ somno, angst, explicit content

♫ - good wife - kacey musgraves

A year into marriage, Nanami begins losing his footing.

You notice it immediately—he would sleep through work alarms, needing your presence to wake him. Even after ten hours asleep, he would rise with dark circles under his eyes and stare blearily at the wall as the sun began to rise. The way he showered and dressed held a different undertone, too, like he was in pain—constant pain. Even the way he said your name felt different.

So, you scramble, spending extra time tending to each of his unsaid needs. Dinner every night as soon as he comes home? Check. Expensive, thoughtful lingerie for him to unravel? Check. Letting him drink, letting him be alone, but letting him talk if he needs to? Yes - you’re doing it all by the book.

Which is why it’s debilitating when he pulls away even more.

Or when he doesn’t come home at all, like tonight. It’s been hours of you hovering around your phone long after his workday concluded to an eerily silent line.

There was no,

Be home soon, dear.

Or, more mildly.

Pulling overtime.

There was just… radio silence. Tonight was the first night since he was your boyfriend that you felt a falter in his demeanor. This time, it’s eating you alive.

You reach for the phone, nose deep in his contact as soon as the screen turns on. You call him twice, then again, and wait for the notifications to settle before trying once more.

Then, you text. Just once, just to make sure he’s okay.

To: Kento i'll miss you tonight

Ten minutes pass without an answer, then twenty more.

It’s after an hour of nothing that you finally peel yourself off the couch and start cleaning up for bed. The beautiful dinner spread you prepared for him gets reduced to leftovers and confined in dishes in the refrigerator. You wash and clean everything just like you would if he were peeking over your shoulder, this time, swallowing down tears and angst with the constant unknowing where he was or what he was doing.

When you’re about to crawl into bed and rid the fateful night over, you perk up to a ding on your side table. You give yourself whiplash sitting up and reaching for it.

From: Kento Please sleep. Don’t wait up, I’m okay. See you in the morning, my love.

It’s simple, and you want more, but you take it with a stupid little smile on your face. At least you know he’s okay, he sounds okay. It sounds like he still loves you and worries about your headspace. So, you don’t respond. Instead, you put your phone away and curl up in bed, wrapping your arms around your frame to imitate some of the warmth Ken would lend you in the night.

As you fall asleep, there’s nothing you can think about that isn’t just… him. His eyes, his sweet smile, your name on his sex-stained lips, the way it feels when you’re tangling your fingers in his and his hair. It’s stupid to need someone so wholly, to rely on their mood to carry you through your day, but it's the only way you could keep him.

All Kento wants in a wife is exactly what he laid out for you:

Comfort, meals, someone to listen, to fuck, and someone who understands.

What he’d give you in return:

Money, lots of it, and whenever you need it. Stability, love, understanding, sex, his undivided attention, and whatever else you asked of him.

Except, you never ask. You never demanded anything that wasn’t his love. If you had the nerve, you’d pick up the phone and demand he come home. He’d run, too, drunk and all, just to get lost in your arms for the night. But you couldn’t do that. You won’t crowd him.

The night is spent alone after all, and it’s only at the drop of sunrise that you feel the bed shift with that familiar, heavy presence. It jolts you awake immediately, and his smell is wafting all throughout the room and over the bed. Smells like him, magnified by a thousand. Perhaps it’s the missing him, but you can tell it’s because he’d been confined in these clothes too long. Years together give you senses like this – the ability to smell every shift in his routine, the way he just flops down instead of sitting. It’s all very telltale; you pause when you pull open your eyes.

When you open them, he’s fumbling at his shirt before giving up and falling back into his spot on his side of the bed. He’s pushing his face right next to you, humming low in his throat, and barely awake as you sit up and stare at him. That big breath he takes in through the nose is to absorb your smell - that comforting perfume he told you to always wear those years ago. Of course, he picks up on that.

You drag a hand across his sleeping face, smiling gently as his skin twitches against you. You wish he would wake up and drunkenly dote on you a bit, but assuming he hasn’t slept all night, you let him have this moment.

You’re not counting the minutes of constantly watching him sleep, but it had to have been close to an hour before he shifted, groaning somewhere deep in his throat.

“So hungry… baby…”

“Hm?” Perhaps he’s dreaming, you don’t jump into service immediately. Until, he repeats, this time with more pained conviction:

“Hungry…”

Then, you’re turning out of bed, sliding on socks so you won’t be assaulted by cold wood in the early morning. Since it’s so early and the sun is soft, you only prepare what you made him last night, and accompany it with a cup of coffee. The caffeine wouldn’t do much on Ken’s system but sober him up, and that’s what he needed if he’d forego a hangover tomorrow.

Of course, you’d know this, you two used to be drinkers in your prime.

So you tiptoe back into the bedroom with a plate and mug in your hands, rounding his side of the bed and taking a seat next to his large frame. Kento’s been at the gym a lot more lately, too, and he’s starting to fill out accordingly. You love how his large arms feel when you drag your fingers over them. It’s a new type of familiar.

“Hungry?” You echo his earlier thoughts, speaking softly enough not to jostle him. He seems to be stirred by your presence, because he turns around and cracks open an eye. Golden hair all messy and falling over the pillow in a halo. He also cut it about three months ago, and you’re just now getting used to the shorter undercut. It’s like your Kento was changing in front of your eyes, and you’re just staying the same.

He blinks at you, muttering into the pillow. “Oh, you’re an angel.”

“Brought you coffee.” You bring the steaming mug to your lips, blowing it gently before lowering it to him.

“Oh.” He sits up, turning around with a hand pressed to his forehead like it was still swimming in drunkenness. “Truly a miracle worker… give me that first.” His words are scarily competent for him, only having slept an hour, but you’re not complaining. Ken takes the coffee from your hands and swallows about half of it in a single sitting.

“Where were you all night?” You start, gently… just testing the waters to see if he was in a mood. After all, you had every right to know.

“Had mountains of work and went into overtime.” He exhales, gaining his bearings after chugging scalding hot coffee. “Pissed and didn’t want to come home, so I went drinking instead.”

“All night?”

“Go on, scold me.”

“I won’t scold you.” You decide, cleaning up some hair around his sleepy, paled face. Now, he’s looking at you with a strange sort of pleading look in his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about leaving my job.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks and all at once. You knew he was struggling in his current position, but he’s never equated it to more than overtime stress. He’s been pulling so much more lately, and it’s getting to him.

Though unsure, you start nodding immediately, holding his tired gaze. Right now, you want him to know you’re there and support him. It’s not your decision if he decides to keep his job or quit, but he trusts your input. He likes talking to you because you always have something good to say – something comforting.

“I have a plan, I just need to explain it to you.”

Two more sips and Ken’s at the bottom of his mug. He hands it off to you, and you hand him his lukewarm plate of food. Lackluster or not, he’s devouring his meal, leaving just over half of it when he wipes his lips and starts speaking.

“Surely you are familiar with folklore? Curses, ghosts, devils, and demons? Even just apparitions and legends, ” He’s searching for any type of unease in your eyes as he speaks, but your loving, gentle gaze doesn’t even falter. “They’re all true and real.”

In your mind, you weren’t sure about anything like that, but Ken has never told a lie in his life. If he told you the sky was red, you wouldn’t even look up at the sky. You’d just assume it’s red.

He continues, “If all those fated evils moved about society freely, surely there has to be some control.” He’s going slow to shovel bites of food and let you process it all, but you wish he’d spit it out. “Some type of… law enforcement.”

“I don’t…” You furrow your eyebrows, shifting over the bed so you’re more comfortable. This conversation would drag; you can tell because he’s cherry-picking his words, trying to come off as sane as possible. You don’t want him sane, you just want him to tell the truth.

“They’re called Jujustu Sorcerers.” He yawns, then pushes his empty plate to the nightstand for you to pick up later. “Unfortunately, I came from a family of them. They are the government’s one-trick pony, set to die whenever they need them to. Only one catch, they pay you a salary that almost makes it worth it.”

Half of that gets lost over your head, and he’d have to explain it when you’re awaker. You’re caught up on one thing, though, the one thing you always asked about. “You never talk about your family…”

“Because they threw me to those shits when I was fourteen and without a dime in my name.” He lies back in bed, turning so his back is facing you. Missing his eyes already, you reach forward to touch him. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. It’s a troubling industry, and the last thing I want is for you to be caught in it.”

You’re unsure what to say, but you know you trust him. All you can do is trust him; he’s never steered you wrong or put you in danger. There’s just one phrase that kept echoing through your mind.

-Set to die whenever they need them to.

It gave you chills.

“I trust you, but what do you mean? Set to die when they need you to? That’s absurd.”

Thank God you can’t see the look on his face, right now. One so overcome with shame and fear. It was only a matter of when, not if.

You can tell he means to follow up and ease your nerves, but it’s the stark reality of the career. He’d have so much money, more fulfillment, but also run that 60% failure rate if he were to take on a Special Grade… he definitely wouldn’t tell you that. All he can do right now is nod against the pillow.

“I know it sounds-

“-wait, why would you do that to yourself? I don’t understand.”

The interruption makes him flex his jaw, but he understands your frustration. “I know it sounds rough, and it is, I’m just far more equipped for sorcery.”

You shake your head, then nod. Then, you just decide it's better that you don’t understand and perhaps that you never will. Kento could go to work, make a lot more money than he does now, but could probably end up dead? What would you do if he died..?

You don’t think you could handle it.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you.” Is what you settle on. He breathes out a laugh, then shrugs.

A sickly sort of lie forms on his lips. It makes it easier to lie when he’s not looking at you. “Of course, you know dying isn’t likely. I am good at my job.”

“So, don’t die. That’s the only stipulation. Work as much as you need to feel fulfilled, but don’t be stupid and don’t give your life to them. No job should require that.”

Kento listens like he cares, nodding every few seconds. He knows you don’t truly understand, and he wants it that way. He wants to come home to you and always be able to forget about work. You truly are his sanctuary, but he doesn’t think he’ll tell you anytime soon.

What he feels the need to tell you now is about his past. Everything about it. His parents - how they dumped him without a single word. Haibara, Suguru, Satoru – Ken’s sure he’ll be a new constant in your lives… If he’s still alive. Surely all of his classmates perished by now; they had to have. It’s why he didn’t continue in the industry after graduation. He could feel his death timer drawing closer and closer.

So, he ran from it and into your arms.

A promise well-kept, Kento quits his salary position and starts back at Jujustu High a week later.

Things have been different; his work schedule is changing and longer, leaving you mostly with time to yourself all day. You thought you’d love it and use it to find yourself again, but you loathe it whenever you feel him crawl out of bed in the morning.

Kento would wake up at 8 and shower, oftentimes convincing you to join him. Just like this morning, he was stuck under the spray, letting the steaming water rush over his face with no need to breathe. You’re pressed into his back, standing bare with your arms wrapped around his torso. You listen to his breathing, feeling the patter of his heartbeat against your crossed hands. He’s so warm, so tall, and strong under your fingers.

It’s in the shower where you tend to feel the closest to him. It’s not about sex here, not all the time, but the sheer closeness you two hold in this space is one too deep to comment on. You pray in this moment for him to come home safely, and he prays that he won’t leave you behind. He’s been purposefully picky with his missions lately, telling Satoru he just didn’t want to risk it today. Every Special Grade mission got pushed to the side, and unfortunately, it left him having to mop up century-old dormant Grade 3 Curses and accompany Satoru on bad days.

You don’t mind listening to his hour-spanning stories about his rowdy colleagues, you love them.

It feels as if you know this Satoru more than Kento does. Like an annoying brother, though you’ve never even seen his face.

Kento is especially quiet this morning, like he knows something is hanging over his head once he leaves the safety of your arms.

“I feel quite selfish asking this of you…” He starts, smooth voice drowned out by the water. “Tonight, if you could just… just have all the household chores done when I get home so your attention is on me all night? Please?”

“Of course.” You reply, lips buried in his shoulder. It makes you wonder if you haven’t been doing a good enough job taking care of him lately, but he’s never said anything about feeling neglected. Perhaps he just needs more.

“And don’t bother with the frilly stuff. Just be naked, waiting in bed for me, please.” There’s something behind his tone, making your heart swim in unknowing. He’s speaking against the water, blinking it from his eyes as he stares forward.

“Yes, Kento.”

“Make sure you have everything prepared. I will do everything I can to be home after six, just please be thorough and caring when I arrive.”

“Yes, baby. Anything you need…”

“Thank you.” He’s standing up straight, running his hands through his hair to wring the water out. He’s actually starting to shower now, so you hand him over his soap, making sure he’s contented before taking care of yourself.

In your chest, you feel a hint of unease and excitement from what he’s asking of you. It’s not much different from most nights, but he’s making sure you know. He doesn’t want one of those one-off chances that you could be visiting a friend or out at the shops. He needs every difficult emotion he faced buried inside of you, strangling you from within until your beautiful demeanor and endless comfort exorcise it like a curse.

Kento thinks you are immensely strong, stronger than Satoru himself in so many ways, but mostly for your selflessness. He’s never known a woman as strong, tender, loving, and thorough as you are. It’s why he married you, and it's why he calls you by his name every chance he gets. He wants you to know that you’re his, right into your very being, just like he’s yours.

So, he lives his day with your promise, seeing you in every reflective surface and hearing you in every passing voice. Kento hasn’t told any of his colleagues about you, but he keeps a ring on his finger, not hiding you away when the dirty comes to be.

That feeling he had when he woke up was real – he understands it when he comes face-to-face with a four-legged curse, and inevitably spends another hour on the job that evening. He gets off, texts you immediately, and thanks himself ten hours ago for giving you those instructions.

He drives home with a quirk in his neck and angst in the front of his mind, he’s reeling – busting at the seams for you when he pushes into the bedroom. Seems you’ve fallen asleep during the wait, but Ken doesn’t mind the view of your front pressed to the mattress, eyes fluttering with REM.

You’re completely naked, lying with your cheek shoved into the crook of your crossed arms. Hugging the pillow close, Ken wishes it were him, so he gets as close as possible.

The trail of his lips against your cool back makes you twitch. Kento can feel it when he kisses your protruding shoulder blade. The lingering of a fresh shower stains his lips as he trails down your back, right hand working his tie loose. He wants you to wake up – needs some type of reaction, a moan, a whisper. He just wants you, right now.

“Wake up, Nanami.” He begs, left hand sliding from your back and between the swells of your ass. He’s comfortable there, craning his fingers so they hit right over your clit.

You don’t even stir, he lets out a breath.

“This is not what I need from you right now,” he warns, getting close to your ear. He flexes his hand between your thighs, prodding his thumb against your slick entrance. “You had all day to sleep; now is not the time.”

You’re blinking awake when his finger presses inside of you, leg pushing against the bed as you try to escape the pressure. It only clicks that it’s your husband when you fully wake up, heart sinking once you realize you dozed off.

“Fuck,” you sit up, wiping a stray line of drool from the corner of your lips. Kento’s bright against the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window, face pulled up in frustration. “Mm, why didn’t you call when I didn’t answer you?”

“Because I was on my way home.” He starts quirking his finger, still buried inside of you, massaging lazily. It’s nothing much, just familiar closeness, but your breath picks up. He drinks up the soft moan you give him immediately.

“Bad day?” You play that tone for him, the one so nurturing and comforting that he lets his eyes flip shut.

“Terrible.”

“Feels good.” You whisper against his lips as he leans down to kiss you. He’s treating your cunt how you should be treating him – massaging and doting at his most sensitive areas. “You’re so good to me, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“Just want you to lie there and look pretty.” He starts undoing the rest of the buttons on his blue work shirt and crawls over you, knees resting on either side of your crossed legs. You’re nodding for him, anxious because you can’t see him – can’t predict his next movements. You can feel him fiddling away back there, likely pulling his belt free and pants down.

What you don’t know is the fact that he has a flesh wound on his back, patched up by Ieiri, but still there nonetheless. He doesn’t want you to worry just yet, but knows it's only a matter of time before your fingers grace across the fresh scar. Kento’s not worried about the pain; he’s worried about your reaction, so he hides it long enough to slip out of his loose briefs.

“Tell me you love me.” Kento’s hovering over your body, guiding his cock through your ass, chasing friction against your sweet skin. “Please, just say it all. Say my name.”

“I love you… Kento, my Nanami.” You whisper into the pillows, drawing your eyebrows together as you focus on staying still. He’s wound so tight, right now. Moving so robotically strained. “Love you so much, with all of my body and soul. Everything you do for me is so selfless and loving, you’re the perfect husband. I just love you so much.”

“Love you…” He bites, swallowing a whine as he leans down and presses his head into your back. His forearms shake, trying to keep his weight steady, but he refuses to budge. He refuses to let the ache in his back nullify his need for you. “I love you so much, you don’t deserve this. You know you don’t. I know you don’t.”

“Deserve what, baby? You? We deserve each other.”

Kento stills for a minute, heavy breathing in your ear as he finally guides the blushing tip of his cock inside of you. It starts slow, so gentle and sweet as you feel yourself stretch and expand to fit him perfectly.

Halfway to the hilt, you both breathe out a moan, your arms hug the pillow closer.

“No. You deserve a husband with an easy go of things – someone not blinded by money and depression. I look at you every day and wonder why… how you chose me…”

“I chose you because you’re perfect.” There are tears in your eyes already, not from overstimulation, but from him. From Kento’s sweet emotion and how he loves you so much, you can feel it pouring and flowing through your shared bodies.

“You make me perfect.”

Finally, his soft voice makes those tears overflow and stream into your ivory sheets. You’re dragging out soft moans, breathless and breaking under his touch every time he fucks into you so tenderly. The zipper on his pants scrapes your sensitive skin – his fingers are digging into your arms, teeth latched into your shoulder. It’s like his softness enters you from every sense, eating you alive and making you sob.

“Don’t cry.” He whispers over you, blinking open his eyes and seeing the ebbs and flows of his Cursed Energy cascading over your body like a blanket. It makes him hold you tighter, grip bruising against your shaking arm. He’s been absent-mindedly coating you in the viscous blues, marking every sense you didn’t even know existed as his.

“My Nanami… Nanami, baby…” Your surname rings so familiar against his lips, blooming in a blush around his grip. “My wife, my strength… my peace. In every universe, I will find you. Don’t ever worry about me leaving you. I never will.”

“Mmf – fuck, K-ken,” You’re shaking your head, fisting the sheets in your free hand. He feels so good – so right buried inside of you and fucking you slow. You’re both so wet, it’s impossible to keep his tired thrusts steady. “I’m gonna… gonna-

“Whenever. Cum whenever.” He’s answering for you, craning his neck to kiss your tear-stained lips. It’s that sloppy mouth-kiss that finally opens those floodgates for your orgasm to come pushing through.

Your warning dies in your throat, but he’s expecting it enough to keep fucking you through it. Perservering even when it feels like you’re gonna snap him in half. He’s hardly fucking you, but it’s his voice — his sickly sweet words rolling off his tongue that unravels you from the inside out. It’s with a tight, craning grip on his arm that you finally cum against him, crying his name and begging for more.

This time, you want more. You need more.

You don’t even have to tell him. In one fateful swoop, he’s turning you on your back, still seated halfway inside of you, when he starts a pace that’s exactly what you need. He’s pinning you down into the bed, lips pressed to yours as he fucks you so right.

Skin is slapping over skin, moans getting lost between each other's lips. It’s so lewd, even Ken’s words get lost in the moment. With each thrust, it’s as if a weight lifts from his shoulders, concentrating into a single amalgamation before completely lifting away.

He feels like a new person, throwing his sweaty head back in relief.

He’s exactly where he wants to be right now, looking down and staring into your beautiful eyes. Buried inside of you, cumming to the sound of your elated cries. The orgasm is so mindblowing, so delicious and everything he needed after an especially shitty day.

It’s only when you reach up, hands trailing over his back, that he catches himself.

“Wh-what? Your… back…” You sit up with him, your arm falling limp onto the bed when he pushes it away. Your fingers just barely grazed over the gauze cover, but you’re not stupid. That look in his eyes isn’t too nonchalant for you to break through.

“Don’t worry about it.”

As much as your heart physically hurts at the thought of your husband being injured, you shut your mouth. It’s not what Kento needs from you right now, and you understand that.

After all, you are a good wife.

Both of you fall asleep unshowered, covered in each other and spooning on top of the sheets. Only two hours of sleep pass, you’re dreaming of your long-past honeymoon, and Ken is stewing over work. The post-sex mindlessness has worn off, and now he’s knitting his eyebrows together in dreams. If you were awake, you’d kiss the lines away and reassure him that he can always leave his job if need be. He can always take a year off and let you be the provider — you wouldn’t know how you’d accomplish it, but anything is possible for your husband.

So, the clock ticks on quickly, and at the mark of midnight, Kento’s phone begins to buzz on the side table.

It only takes a few rounds before he’s sitting up, eyes closed as he brings the phone to his ear.

“What.”

‘Nanamin, I know I told you I wouldn’t do this tonight…’ Satoru’s on the other line, an eerie calm edge to his smooth voice. Ken takes a breath.

‘But, there’s a Special Grade swarming the city center. I’m at the scene, but there are Curse Users — six of them.’

“‘f you need my help, just say it.”

‘I need your help.’

So, he hangs up the phone and swings his legs out from under you, not too conscious about waking you because he knows his lack of presence would do it anyway.

Just as he thought, you’re stirring as soon as his body heat moves. “Where… where are you goin’?” You whisper, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. He’s halfway to the closet, oblivious to your half-asleep mannerisms. “Kento?” You try again, pulling the soiled sheets over your naked frame, suddenly cold.

“Go back to sleep.” He demands, walking out of the closet with a fresh blue button-up hanging from his shoulders. He starts at the base of the shirt, fiddling his fingers in the buttons as he gets ready… again.

“What are you doing?” You try again, this time with more conviction behind your tone.

“Called in.” He shrugs this off like it's normal, but he’s never been called in before. He’s never told you about the possibility of removing himself from you at night. “Make sure you stay home. Be safe and smart, just like I know you are.”

“But, what do you mean you were called in?” You want him to answer – can tell he’s dodging it as he lifts his neck, shirt buttoned up at midnight.

“Sorry. I won’t make you my liability.” That's all he says before turning his back to you, heading into the closet.

“W-what does that mean?!” You’re flustered, now. Anxious and tired, needing him on your skin. It’s so cruel to imagine a night with him, only for it to get ripped out from under you. “You just worked ten hours today.”

“And it will likely be ten more.” He’s speaking like it’s nothing, using that stupidly stoic tone of voice like he’s lecturing a student. “Thank you for being my constant. I’m much more at ease, now.”

You can tell he wants you to bow right now, but your back wants to bend.

“I don’t want you to go.” You sound so stupid and needy in this darkness, feeling his eyes staring holes into your shadow. He’s walking back into the room with his entire uniform on, tie tangled around his fist, and glasses in hand. It makes you sick.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaves you with a look over the shoulder and a baseless goodbye, and you feel like a shell of yourself…

Watching him fade away through your door and into a world you couldn’t understand feels like a knife in the chest.

To Kento, you’re safe and strong - unyielding and comforting whenever he needs it the most, but internally, you’re wailing. It’s like you hardly see him anymore, it’s like he only exists at night to touch and kiss you. Then, he’s an apparition again, only to drink from your fountain once night falls again.

There has to be some cheat book, some file tucked away in plain sight that could give you answers. You needed a list sprawled out in serif, boldly plain and to the point.

Most of all, you needed to know:

How can you keep a man that can’t live without you?

#ugh.. nanami.. loml..#.nanami <3 #.the wife guy!! <3 #.favs :o #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami x y/n #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

693 notes · View notes

starrylanex · 4 months ago

Text

Hate to Love, Bucky Barnes

wordcount: 4.5k; pairings: b.b x avenger!reader; ‘ko-fi’ special;

summary: You and Bucky have always hated each other, but when a mission forces you to rely on him, tensions start turning into something else.

----

You are already in a bad mood when you walk into the conference room, coffee in hand, hoping for a quick briefing so you could move on with your day. but the moment you saw Bucky Barnes leaning against the table with his arms crossed, looking just as irritated as you felt, you knew the universe had other plans.

Great. Just great.

You took a seat as far from him as possible, ignoring the way his steel blue eyes flickered towards you before looking away just as quickly. The feeling was mutual. You weren't sure what started this war between the two of you, but it had only worsened over time, every mission together ended in shouting matches, every sparring session turned into a match, and every conversation ended with clenched fists and gritted teeth.

At this point everyone knew just to avoid pairing the two of you together.

"Alright, let's get started." Steve said as he stood at the front of the room, a file in hand. "We've got an intel retrieval mission, classified HYDRA data stolen by a group of ex HYDRA agents in Berlin. It's a two person job. Stealth and efficiency are key."

You nodded along until Steve flipped the file open and slid it across the table towards you. "You two are going in."

Your head snapped up so fast that you were surprised you didn't get whiplash. "What?"

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. "No way."

Steve sighed, already anticipating the reaction. "Yes, way. You are the best infiltration duo we have."

Bucky laughed dryly. "Since when?"

"Since the rest of the team is either off world or on their own missions," Natasha chimed in, smirking like she was enjoying thus way too much. You narrowed your eyes at her, trying to tell her that she was dead. "Congrats lovebirds."

Your glare deepened. Oh, you were so going to kill her. "There has to be someone else, what about you, Nat?"

Steve crossed his arms. "No one's better suited for this and Natasha is going on another mission related to yours at the same time. You are both excellent at going unnoticed, you can handle yourselves in a fight and whether you like it or not, you work well together under pressure."

You snorted, "That's debatable."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, you not having realized that he had sat down next to you, as if trying to irritate you as much as he could and gave you a once over with an unimpressed expression. "Yeah, and some of us don't play well with the others."

Your grip tightened around your coffee cup. "Oh, I'd work just fine if my partner wasn't a brooding, stubborn, pain in the a-"

"Enough." Steve held up a hand, using his, Ooh I am so serious tone, before the argument between the two of you could escalate even more. "Like it or not, you leave in two hours. Get packed."

You exhaled sharply, jaw clenched as you stood up, snatching the file from the table. You refused to look at Bucky as you turned on your heels and stormed out, but you could feel his glare burning into back of your head.

This was going to be a disaster.

You stormed down the hallway, flipping through the mission file with more aggression than necessary, the pages crinkling under your fingers. Two days in Berlin, minimum. Shared safe house. Surveillance. Stealth. No backup unless absolutely necessary. It wasn't the mission details that made your stomach tighten, it was the him part.

Bucky Barnes. The human embodiment of a headache.

This wasn't just going to be a disaster. This was going to be torture.

continue...

#fanfic #x reader #mcu bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #marvel mcu #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader

485 notes · View notes

bunni-v1 · 4 months ago

Note

smilk winning the pettiest jealous bitch award every year until beast yeast 8 cuz the man dead ass is just "yeah doll it's just a test :)" but the second you start getting close to truthless recluse he's just ">:( no I don't like this anymore"

we're just befriending your other half bro!! u wanted this and you're mad about it!! little bitch (affectionately)!!

i love my petty husband-

(also, your honor, was the "remembering who you belong to" thing a hit to jealous intercourse?? 🙏 cuz i love that 👀 love to hear more about that if ur in the mood, if not, ignore this lmfao)

MDNI!!!

Ohhhh, Shadow Milk is a jealous petty little bitch, and he knows it too! He really wants you two to get along, it’s great! Until it isn’t…

Oooo seeing you being so sweet on Truthless Recluse really makes him feverish. You were his little dolly, so why were you so sweet to some other cookie? You should be giving him all that attention! It’s not right! You know who you belong to, don’t you?

You’ve got that bite on the back of your neck, is that not enough? The tug and burn of his annoyance should’ve reminded you, but… Well. If you need the reminder, he’s more than happy to give it to you! Just be a good little cookie and he’ll take care of you <3

But seriously, he doesn’t really cause a fuss, mostly pouting and grumbling, UNTIL you touch Truthless Recluse. Just a brush of the hand was all it was, nothing with any meaning, but oh did it set him off. He was patient! Kind! Benevolent even! But you crossed a line with that one, and he won’t tolerate your actions any longer.

You are swooped up off your feet and transported to your shared bedroom within a fraction of a second. Having been with him for so long, you already know where this is going, so you don’t bother fighting him. But jealous sex with Shadow Milk Cookie is something entirely different than the norm.

What you think will be a regular session turns into something else entirely. Not only does he intend to remind you just who’s you are, he means to show Truthless Recluse that as well.

He’ll tie you up and blindfold you, which isn’t strange by any means. He likes forcing you to use your sense of touch, heightens the experience and really makes you squeal like he wants. All the while he’s playing it nice and cool, jealousy not quite bubbling over for the sake of the performance.

He runs his hands all across your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His mouth following to leave marks all across your pretty dough, nipping a few bites where he can. He pointedly avoids touching you where you need him most, though. Knowing better than to give you what you want right away, lest he ruin the fun for himself.

He gets you positively squirming beneath him, then, he stops. Not only does he stop, leaving you whiny and flustered, but he leaves. He leaves you tied up and dripping and alone. It’s a cruel punishment you’d never experienced from him before, and it nearly makes you cry until you hear his pleasant little giggle.

“Ohhh, did you think I left you all alone? Poor thing… you know better than that, dolly~” He’ll coo, returning right back to where he was before.

He’s a bit more aggressive about his ministrations now, leaving bites that leak jam and are sure to scar. Licking up the wounds with a kindness that gives you whiplash, until finally that sinful mouth of his reaches right where you need it.

With practiced precision, he swallows you whole, forked tongue working over you like a dream. It knows all the right spots, moving across your most needy areas and leaving you weak and breathless. He goes and goes until you reach the edge, and then he pulls away like he always does.

He lingers a moment longer, though, and you feel his eyes burn into you from his place. You wonder if this time he’ll just give you what you like, but instead you feel a sharp pain shoot up from where he just left. A shout of surprise forces it’s what out of your lungs, and before you can process what he’s done, he’s already licking away to soothe the bite on your most sensitive areas.

“Did you just bite me?” You accused.

He snickers like a delighted kid, “What? Not into it?”

Aching and huffy, you grumble out a ‘no.’ Though it was certainly more pleasant than you’d like to admit, you’d prefer to be told before he tries something like that.

“Well…” He purrs, and you feel him crawl onto the bed, positioning himself nicely between your legs. His eager member is already free, and like it has a mind of its own, is rubbing against your inner thigh in a sort of apology. “Lemme make it up to you then, hmm?”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he is pushing into you. It tears a moan out of your lips, never quite used to how odd he feels the first time he enters. You swear he can expand the damn thing on command with how it fills you, rubbing all the right places at all the right times.

He’s kind enough to let you adjust, though you know he doesn’t have to be. The damn thing squirms excitedly inside you anyway, negating the whole point of his waiting. Maybe he just liked watching it press up against your stomach, or maybe… something else was going on. Before you can mull on it too much, he moves his hips in a brutal thrust.

It nearly knocks the wind out of you, pushing yet another surprised noise from your mouth. He giggles to himself at the sound, making his next thrust even harder to draw it out again, and again, and again, and again, until you can’t think straight. Each harsh thrust is another reminder that he’ll be carrying you around all of tomorrow, and your raspy throat tells you speaking won’t be much easier either.

He leans over you at some point, though you’re not exactly sure when. His body covering you from the cool air of the spire. He uses the closeness as an excuse to leave more marks across your neck and shoulders, happy to scar you up for everyone to see.

His dick twists in a way that has you seeing stars, throwing your head back into the sheets to cry to the heavens. He has every intent to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight tonight, and just as you think he’ll let you cum, he pauses his rough pace. You nearly whine, but stop when the blindfold stars to be undone.

He’d turned off the lights, so your vision adjusts much faster, and you are met with his sharp toothy grin. He seems satisfied with himself, so you smile weakly at him.

“Awwwwh, you’re so cute! Aren’t they cute?” He coos.

It takes you a second to realize he is talking to someone else, blinking in confusion a few times before you follow his gaze across the room. You meet dull ones, seemingly uninterested in the affair unfolding before them. Your jam freezes, jerking in your restraints in surprise. Why was Truthless Recluse here? How long had he been watching? Why was Shadow Milk okay with it?

“Oh, nonono, you’re not going anywhere!” He purrs, rubbing his cheek into yours like your attempt at escape was cute, “Don’t you like the surprise I made for you? It seemed like such a good idea, don’t tell me you’re upset!”

It’s hard to keep up with him, so all you manage is a very stupid, “What?”

He giggles with good nature, “Well, you seemed to like Vanilly’s attention sosososo much, that I thought it would be fun to have him watch us! And I was right, you’re never this vocal… it’s a little annoying honestly. Y’know, I’m getting the impression you like him more than me!”

You shake your head adamantly at him, and you mean it too, even though you’re fucked out and stupid you still manage to understand what he’s saying. You can’t come up with a good argument against him in your state though, petrified eyes unable to focus on staring at him or hiding from Truthless Recluse. It seems to make him happy, but he doesn’t stop his teasing despite the satisfaction.

“You do know who you belong to, don’t you dolly?” His words are accompanied with a thrust, a gasp forcing its way out as you nod, “Use your words pretty~”

Another thrust and you manage, “Y-you.”

“Mhm~ What’s my name, c’mon. You’ve still got some brain left up there, dontcha?” He teases, tapping on your forehead. If you weren’t so horrified you might’ve laughed.

“Sha~adow Milk— shit.” You manage between the steady smacks of his hips against yours, the tip of his dick rubbing your g-spot each time making things all the more difficult for you.

He smiles proudly at you, as if you were a pet he’d broken in. You certainly felt that way right now, not that you’d complain too much. His hand grabs your face tightly, jerking your head to the side with a smug smile.

“Tell him who you belong to.” He commands, and there is not room for debate.

“I belong to Shadow Milk Cookie,” You cry out to the silent cookie. He seems… unsure of the sight in front of him, whether he enjoys it or not, but Shadow Milk pulls your face back to his before you can make it out.

“Good job! I’m so proud of you! Now,” He squeezes your face tight in his grip, smiling cruelly at your struggle, “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t make me have to remind you again, alright?”

You nod dumbly, only verbally responded when he raises an eyebrow, “Of course, I’ll be good.”

He giggles, pressing the kindest kiss he could muster to your lips, “That’s my dolly~”

#bunni's treats 🧁#crk #cookie run kingdom #crk x you #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x you #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk smut #cookie run kingdom smut #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk smut #shadow milk cookie smut #shadow milk x you #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x you #shadow milk cookie x reader

939 notes · View notes

orphicsun · 8 months ago

Text

Smut below MDNI<3 I love Ellie Williams.

You wanted a night in with your sweet girlfriend, Ellie. She was always so goofy with you that her current mood had you experiencing whiplash. Well, more like her current actions. She had you sitting between her legs on your bed, the two of you watching some movie your friend recommended, but you were hardly focusing on the screen. Your girlfriend’s hand was in your panties, two fingers rubbing softly against your g-spot as she pumped in and out of you. You were a trembling mess and all she would say to relieve your needy state was a small coo of “shh, baby..focus on the tv, yeah? just watch the movie..” This only made you more greedy. You tried so hard to focus on whatever the boring ass movie was about, but your hips were involuntarily squirming, and you were grateful Ellie couldn’t see your flushed face and your half-lidded eyes because your back being pressed up against her chest. She was so warm and her fingers just kept hitting the right places deep inside you as her other hand rubbed up and down your arm as if nothing was happening. The heel of the palm rubbed up against your neglected clit, making you jolt. You couldn’t stifle the whimper this time. Ellie made a tsk sound and tilted your head so she could whisper in your ear. “Thought I told you to watch the movie,” she teased, making you squirm even more, “Well, just be a good girl now and cum on my fingers? I’m sure you can manage that.” You nodded frantically and let her fuck you relentlessly now, the pads of her two fingers brushing deliciously against your gummy inner walls, sending you practically creaming for her. Your pussy clamped down on her digits while your legs shut on her hand, your body fearing that she’ll rip the orgasm away too soon. You couldn’t even manage to speak through it, only letting out short moans between panting breaths, your hips shifting and practically arching off of the bed. When you finally went limp in her arms, she removed her fingers from your sore cunt and slid them into your mouth, forcing you to taste the mess you made on her fingers<3

#ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams au #ellie x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #tlou smut #tlou 2 #tlou part 2 #wlw ns/fw #lesbian sex

1K notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

Text

♡ ＧｉｒｌＵｎｄｅｒＹｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairings: gynecologist!seonghwa! x chubby!afab!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Scheduling your yearly check up with your OBGYN can be nerve-wracking. Especially when your doctor's Park Seonghwa. Finally getting up the courage to visit, you do all you can to conceal the not so appropriate feelings you have towards him. Not only is it inappropriate but he surely doesn't feel the same. Right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has a vagina and identifies as a woman. we're at the OBGYN so this is ultra vagina city. pervy Dr. Park Seonghwa, you too are a perv tbh it's mutual, shy/touch starved reader, body worship, nipple/breast play, fingering (gentle & rough), unprotected sex, cum marking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc), a lil rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), nonsexual use of the word slut (not in a bad way), it gets bitey for a second, examination kink, soft dom Hwa vibes.

♡ A/N: Listen, I can explain. It's all on @anyamaris for encouraging me to begin with. Blame her!

Important note: If you have a vagina go get it checked out regularly. Your doctor will certainly not be Seonghwa dicking you down BUT it's an important and sometimes life saving appointment sooo make it or I'll fight you. K, love you, bye ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ “I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy. I'll lie down face up, guy. The girl under you, guy.” ~ Lady Gaga ~ ♡♡ ♡

“Date of your last period? Any abnormal cramping or bleeding? Any chance of pregnancy?” the nurse fires off questions, tapping your answers into the laptop balanced on her hip.

Sitting on the exam table, your feet dangling off the edge, you try not to get whiplash from how quickly she whirls around the room loading a tray with supplies for your exam. The office is unexpectedly short staffed today, forcing her to play the role of nurse and human octopus. You understand how overwhelmed she must be but pray that she stops soon. Your anxiety was already bad enough coming in here. This nervous energy is not helping.

“Last question, honey” she says, turning to face you, “Oh, have you been sexually active recently?” She cracks a playful smile, clearly expecting your answer to be something that it isn’t.

“No” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. Look at how shiny those tile floors are. Has this exam table always been this cushy? Such a marvelous generic art print that is hanging by the door.

The nurse’s eyes widen, a hand clutched to her chest in shock, “You went to Coachella and didn’t get laid?”

“Nurse Kim! Can we not today?” you pout, in no mood to have this conversation right now.

Being a longtime patient here has a lot of perks. Getting closer to the nurses especially has been great for you. I mean, who doesn’t like getting the appointment slot they want every single time? But the drawback is that they like you enough to pick on you. Maybe it’s their way of breaking you out of your shell, getting you to be less shy, but you wish they wouldn’t.

Nurse Kim shrugs, miming the zipping of her lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my business.” Placing the supplies on the table, she grabs you a fresh hospital blue medical gown. “You know the deal, right? No shoes, no bra…”

You nod along with her instructions, hopping down to kick your sneakers off. Finally she finishes and heads for the door to give you some privacy. “The doctor will be in shortly. Let me know if you need anything” she says, stopping halfway out the door. “You really didn’t bang anyone at Coachella. Wow. Girl, you’ve got to learn to live a little. You’re too hot not to slut it up!”

“Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Bye!” you laugh, inching the door shut until she’s on the other side of it.

Alone at last, you’re able to get out of your clothes and into your gown in peace and quiet. Well, “peace” might not be the word to describe what you’re feeling but at least you’re able to panic in silence.

You really shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve been coming to this office for years. Everyone’s kind and welcoming. They always make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. There’s definitely no part of you they haven’t seen so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Still there’s one thing—one major, heart pounding, pulse quickening thing—that makes you too nervous to function every time you’re here.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you contemplate not answering but dig it out anyway figuring a little distraction can’t hurt. Unlocking your phone, you spot a text from your best friend.

It reads: “Did you see Hot Doctor yet?”

You giggle to yourself, typing back to her. “His name’s Seonghwa and not yet. Still waiting.”

“On a first name basis are we? Seonghwa. That’s even hot to say.”

“Dr. Park, I mean. His name is hot to say though. He’s hot. I fucking hate it.”

“Just give him your number already!”

“Sure. While he’s swabbing me I’ll be all ‘Hey, Dr. Park. Wanna go to lunch?’”

Your best friend responds with a meme of Megan thee Stallion sticking her tongue out. “Plot twist. The lunch is between my legs, daddy!”

You’re choking back laughter and tears, scrolling your phone for the perfect meme to send back when there’s a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin, shoving your phone back into your purse.

“Come in!” you shout, returning to the exam table just in time for the doctor to step in.

Everything moves in slow motion when Park Seonghwa enters the room. Ahem, Dr. Park. He is, as you and your best friend have come to call him, a hot doctor. The hottest doctor you’ve ever seen. His dark wavy hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, loose pieces hanging to frame a face too gorgeous to look directly at. His bone structure’s immaculate, his lips soft and pink, and his voice…

“Long time no see. How’s my favorite patient been?” he says, flashing that killer smile of his. That voice. That smile. It makes you want to faint.

You laugh it off, hoping not to come off as flustered as you are. “Dr. Park, I’m not your favorite patient.”

Seonghwa takes a seat on a nearby rolling stool and spins his way over to you, making a cute woo noise when he does. It gets a giggle out of you which is exactly what he wanted.

“Who says you aren’t?” he asks, sliding in closer, his hands disappearing behind your legs.

It’s hard to breathe when he’s this close, staring up at you from between your legs. The smell of his cologne dances around you, a sweet woodsy scent that you imagine might smell even better on top of you. Just the thought awakens a familiar tingle between your thighs that threatens to make you wet the crinkly paper blanket beneath you if you carry on like this. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a doctor. He’s just doing his job. And here you are perving over him.

“Dr. Park, anything else you need me to grab?” Nurse Kim asks, popping back into the room. Her appearance snaps you out of your trance and you force a smile to keep things normal. If you weren’t brain rotted and horny you'd swear Seonghwa had been reading your reaction that whole time. That he saw the effect he had on you and seemed somehow amused by it. But that’s factually insane. Get it together.

The foot rests behind your legs, the reason Seonghwa reached back there to begin with, unfold with a creak. “No, I think we’re good” he answers before turning back to you, “Lay back for me and put your feet up. We’ll be done in no time, okay?” You follow his instructions, laying back on the table, readjusting yourself however he asks you to.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hands on your belly, impatiently waiting for this to be over. Though Seonghwa’s interest in what’s between your legs is purely medical, the fact remains that you hope he doesn’t find it ugly. You shaved for this, used this nice pH balancing rose water soap on it. You did everything but put makeup on it and throw it in a dress. You feel kinda silly now thinking back on it but your brain isn’t exactly logical when it comes to him.

A few cranks of a speculum and cotton swabs later you’re done with the first part of your exam. “Good girl, you did well. The hardest part’s over” he praises, swapping his latex gloves out for a new pair. Your heart skips a beat at being called a “good girl”. He didn’t mean it that way but your body can’t differentiate between reality and how devastatingly sexy that was. Seonghwa turns to address the nurse and you quickly press your thighs together for some relief.

“I’ll send these off and go set up for the next patient” Nurse Kim says, grabbing your samples. She turns to smile at you one last time before disappearing from the room. “Remember what I said” she whispers, “Slut. It. Up.” Unfortunately, of all the things she’s skilled at whispering isn’t one of them and Seonghwa hears her.

Rising from his seat, he walks alongside you, stopping when he reaches your chest. “Just lower your gown for me for a second.”

You do as you’re told, carefully rolling your gown below your breasts. “So, slut it up, huh? What’s that about?” he teases, cold hands cupping one of your soft breasts. You inhale sharply at the contact, a thankfully normal reaction to cold hands touching you. Though for you it’s more that they’re his hands than anything.

“She thinks I need to get laid” you blurt out, caught off guard by your own bluntness.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, his fingertips pushing gently into your breast. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. She shouldn’t be judging people for their life choices.”

“I mean, it’s not really a life choice. I’m just not…I’m not a girl who…” you ramble, shutting yourself up immediately after realizing what you’re saying. Seonghwa pauses, glancing over at you, two fingers circling the perimeter of your nipple. It stiffens at the closeness, your touch starved body grateful for the attention.

“Not a girl who what?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely interested.

It doesn’t seem that he’ll keep going if you don’t answer so you give in. “I don’t know, guys just don’t hit on me I guess. I’m not that girl.”

Seonghwa continues his examination, flattening his fingers at the base of your breast and dragging them up to your nipple. They bounce back each time, looking rounder and fuller as if he’s worked some magic on them.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily it” he sighs, moving on to the other breast, “A lot of men are intimidated by beautiful women.”

Beautiful women? Did Park Seonghwa just call you a “beautiful woman”?

“B-beautiful?” you stutter, at a loss for what to do with yourself, “That’s really nice of you but I’m not…”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile at how adorable you are when he compliments you. You’re as good at concealing it as Nurse Kim is at whispering. Seonghwa knows that you’re attracted to him. To be fair, a lot of his patients are, but you are truthfully his favorite. Always so beautiful, always so easy to tease, and such a pretty pretty pussy that’s always wet for him.

“But you are” he insists, both hands cradling your breast, thumbs running up the side, “You must have a mirror at home, no?”

“Dr. Park, are you trying to make me blush?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

The pads of his thumbs graze your hardening nipple and your back arches, a whimper lighter than air escaping your lips. You catch Seonghwa quickly nibbling at his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering at the shock and pleasure painting your face. You caught him. You saw it this time. Really saw it.

Seonghwa knows he should stop here, end the examination, and send you on your way before he does something stupid. It’s just…that little moan you let out? It’s a melody he’s been fantasizing about since the first time you laid across his table. He has to hear it again.

“I don’t know. Is it, aaah…” he breathes in, one of his thumbs circling the tip of your bud, “Is it working?”

Slipping his left hand back across your chest, he palms your other breast, pinching your sensitive nipple each time he rolls his wrist.

“Yes, it…oh god…it’s working” you mewl, your mouth falling open, moans pouring out at the perfect volume for only the two of you to hear.

Your feet tremble in the foot rests, your legs still spread to leave your dripping, vulnerable pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. Hypnotized by the sight of Seonghwa playing with your tits, high off the electric current it sends through your body, it’s easy to forget that you actually came here for a reason.

“I should probably finish your exam” Seonghwa whispers, doing his best to ignore the hard cock pressing against his slacks. Your body may be tempting but it is technically his job to make sure you’re healthy too. His hands gradually cease their movement, gliding down to do away with the gown that was hardly hiding to your naked body.

“Fuck, look at you” he gasps, massaging your squishy belly, tracing your love handles, and rounding the curve of your hip to reach your thigh. His fingers dig into your thigh, savoring their softness all the way up to your core.

His gaze travels back up your body to those starry doe eyes that hang on his every move, “Think I’ll need the lube or are you already wet enough for me, baby?”

Seonghwa rubs two fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal on the tip of his glove. He brings them to his mouth, extending his long tongue to lick your juices up.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you” he hums, taking his time to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue.

“Dr. Park, please…” you beg, thighs pressing together again, the need for his touch unbearable.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart” he apologizes, his fingers immediately returning to their place between your legs. “You want me to finger that perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, please, I want…need it so bad.”

Seonghwa brings his lips to yours, your eyes gleaming with lust as they meet, “You need it, baby? That bad, huh?”

Two gloved fingers push into you, your pussy welcoming them with the tightest of hugs. “Fuck, yes, so good” you whine into his mouth as you begin to ride his fingers. Seonghwa dips his tongue between your lips, your mouths passionately crashing together. You grab the collar of his white coat, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss as his fingers work your core. Inside of you his fingers stimulate spots men who aren’t in his line of work wouldn’t even know existed. Some you didn’t even know could bring you such pleasure until now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, elbows giving out from under you, “Harder, Dr. Park, wanna feel you so deep.”

Seonghwa catches your head before it can hit the cushion beneath you, lowering it down carefully as he draws another kiss from your lips. “Only if you promise to be a good girl and be quiet for me.”

“I p-promise. Quiet. I’ll be…” you moan, throwing your hands over your mouth when he suddenly picks up the pace. Shifting between your legs, he tucks a hand behind your right knee and pushes it to your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers locked together to keep you from screaming. Seonghwa’s fingers are much deeper than you thought they could go and his pace is too unforgiving for you to brace yourself for any of it.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re getting too loud, baby” he teases, coming in to kiss your inner thigh. Your juices stream down his fingers, soaking the thin paper beneath you. Hating to waste something so delicious, he begins licking around his own fingers. Between your lips. Around your clit. Anywhere his fingers send it splashing, he licks it clean.

Your hands begin to slip from your mouth, your poor wrecked little body going too limp to keep it together. Thinking quickly, you bite down on your hand just enough to keep the noise in but you aren’t sure how long it’ll last. You’re dangerously close to coming. You can feel it and Seonghwa does too. Your hole’s so greedy, sucking him in and refusing to let go. It’s just begging to come but he won’t let it. Not like this at least.

Reaching down, he blindly fumbles around with his pants until he feels his cock spring free. He groans into your pussy as he closes his hand around his cock, rocking in and out of his own grip.

“Dr. Park, I’m gonna, mmph, aaah, fuck…gonna come” you squeal, hips stuttering against his face.

“Fuck, yes, come for me, sweetheart” he grins, rimming the head of his cock with his thumb, “You wanna come on my cock?”

Seonghwa’s proposal has you biting down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh god, yes, fuck me please. Fuck me, Seonghwa.”

Popping his fingers free, he grabs you by your legs and drags you down until your ass hangs off of the table. “Seonghwa!” you cry out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you. That stretch. That one exhilarating, earth shattering stretch, is all it takes to ruin you.

“Mmm, that’s it, come baby. Give it to me” he moans, hips snapping into your fluttering core. You expect, like any other orgasm, for your high to fade after the initial peak but it doesn’t. You’re still there. And your body’s giving out. You brain’s going hazy. You can’t take it but you want to even if it makes you go crazy.

Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your pretty face, never stop eating up how hot you are when you’re at his mercy. The sensation of his own high crashing down on him has him pushing your thighs together, the thickness of them making your pussy feel twice as tight around him.

“So fucking tight, shit, you’re gonna make me come. Where do you want it?”

“I, ooh, I want it…want.” The words are there but you struggle so very hard to find them. You dig deep, collecting the strength needed to run your hand down your belly and spread your folds for him. Your voice is so cute and broken when you say, “On me.”

Seonghwa folds immediately, pulling out to coat your clit in the thick warmth spilling from his cock. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaves it there resting against your clit. Both of you twitching together, his seed dripping down your pussy so that no part of you isn’t marked by him.

“Don’t clean it off” he instructs, kissing down your leg as he places your feet back in the foot rests, “Leave it so you’ll think of me when you’re driving home.”

Easing your fingers from between your folds, you pop them into your mouth, sucking them like a lollipop. “Anything else, Dr. Park?”

Seonghwa zips his pants up, searching his brain for any other pressing information. “That depends, are you free tonight?”

“Hmm, let me think” you muse, staring off into space for dramatic effect. “I can be. That depends on what you had in mind.”

“Well, I was thinking I could pick you up for dinner and then…” He blows you a kiss that communicates his plan wonderfully, “Dinner.”

You giggle, your sweet little crush on him more severe than ever, “Sure, I’d like that but, hold on, you don’t know where I live.”

Seonghwa takes his gloves off, tossing them in the trash can by the door. “You’re my patient, remember? I literally have all of your personal information.”

“Isn’t that, like, a violation of patient privacy or something?”

Seonghwa laughs off your comment, walking over to sneak in a goodbye kiss. “I’ve already violated your privacy once today, sweetheart. Can't hurt to do it again”

#seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #park seonghwa x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

2K notes · View notes

bettys-redwinesupernova · 6 months ago

Text

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom’ instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go—for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

#bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #outer banks #fluff #obx #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey obx #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey imagine

667 notes · View notes

sonotpattismith · 6 months ago

Text

as soft as we know

pairing: choso kamo x reader word count: 12.7k (oops) content: fluff, angst, choso experiencing his first christmas, jealousy, insecurity, loss of virginity, choso being a sweetie pie, smut, 18+ a/n: this is a continuation of 'it's britney, bitch', but it can definitely be read independently as well

“That’s not where it goes, Cho.”

“Lower?”

“A little bit.”

“Here?”

Grunting in frustration, you reached for his wrist, guiding his hand to the proper positioning.

“These are supposed to be his arms, Cho.” You laughed despite your playful exasperation, helping him carefully shove the small stick he’d found into the snowman’s lumpy torso.

Stepping back to check your progress, you smiled gleefully and bit back a cackle at the state of it. Its head was far too small for its body, and the rocks you two had found for his eyes were completely different sizes.

Turning to catch Choso’s reaction to his first snowman, you were almost caught off guard by his stoic expression. His sharp, dagger like gaze could cut straight through glass, pairing terrifyingly with the firm line his lips were set in. One thing you had learned in the few months you’d been with the half-curse though, was that he had the nastiest case of resting bitch face that you’d ever seen on a man. It was no wonder you were so put off by him upon first meeting. Still, you couldn’t help but tilt your head a little to meet his gaze.

“You okay?” You questioned with a knowing smile.

Blinking away the snowflakes that had gathered on his dark lashes, his eyes seemed to light up at your question, the abrupt switch in expressions nearly giving you whiplash.

“Yeah, he looks funny. Why?” Choso grinned sincerely, reaching out to gently brush the snow from your hair. “Was I doing that thing with my face again?”

“Yeah, you were.” You giggled and reached up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, gripping at his bicep for balance. He hummed appreciatively, a flush quickly coming up to paint his pale cheeks. It was something you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown out of since the beginning of your relationship. You were sure if the day ever came that he stopped blushing so furiously at your kisses, your heart would split in two.

“Does it look how you wanted it to?” He asked as he reached out to straighten the right eye that had slipped a bit. Huffing out a sigh, you sized up the snowman that looked like he had definitely seen better days.

“He looks… unique.” You offered with a tilted head, trying to see which angle would make it look halfway decent. “But hey, if I can’t decorate a tree, our freak snowman is gonna have to do to get me into the Christmas spirit.”

“Why can’t we decorate a tree?” He questioned with a tilt of his head. From what you had told him, the tree was kind of the main event of this holiday you seemed to be buzzing about.

“I don’t have time this year.” You muttered dejectedly, distracting yourself by straightening out the drooping arms of your snowman. “I’m supposed to be filling in as supervisor for some of the kids’ missions in the next few weeks.”

Choso hummed pensively, taking note of the gloom that had suddenly befallen your once cheerful mood. In a meek attempt to salvage it, he nodded toward the snowman.

“Is there anything else we can do to him?”

“Well, I wanted to fix his head, but I think my fingers are gonna freeze off if we don’t stop here.” You confessed sheepishly.

“You’re cold?”

“You’re not?” Your brows rose challengingly, giving him a once over to note that he appeared perfectly comfortable.

Choso tried to hide his anticipatory smile as he pulled you closer, tugging his gloves off with his teeth to reveal his chipping, black painted nails, courtesy of you, of course. It took almost four weeks of you observing the way he’d watch you so intently as you gave yourself haphazard manicures on the floor of your dorm. You would feel his warm breath over your shoulder as you picked up various bottles to choose your weekly color.

One evening, you had of course seen it coming a mile away when he apprehensively requested if you could do his, too. You could remember smiling knowingly at him before nudging your chin toward the bottles to prompt him to pick one.

Maybe it was because this grunge side Choso had been ever so slowly leaning into as he came into his own made you swoon just a bit, but you’d be lying if you said your shared, weekly manicures hadn’t become some of your favorite memories with him.

It was time for a touch up, you determined with a soft smile while he gently gathered your hands to uncover them as well. A slow breath escaped you as his large hands enveloped yours, and you gradually felt a steady warmth begin to fill his palms. Your thus far frigid fingers felt as though they were defrosting in his grip, and you nearly moaned in relief.

“Is that your technique?” You finally gathered, his supposed immunity to the cold becoming less mysterious. He hummed affirmatively, shifting to place both your hands in one of his as the other came up to cup your rosy, snow-kissed cheek.

Leaning into the heater-like quality of his palm, you peered up at him through your lashes. He became more beautiful each time you looked at him, you were sure.

The dark circles you once found so intimidating now served as an enticing emphasis for his chocolate, brown eyes. His ever-shifting blood-mark gave a dark edge to his otherwise benevolent nature that never failed to send shivers down your spine. These days, he was wearing his hair loose more and more, and maybe it was because you liked to tangle your fingers in it when he kissed you, but he’d never admit that, of course.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb maneuvered down to brush heat along your chin, unintentionally snagging on your bottom lip on the way. Everything about him made your mind turn to degenerate mush, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you spent with him. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take of the careful tango you two had been spinning in the past few months.

Choso had been adapting quicker than you had expected to the sorts of little intimacies that came along with being in a romantic relationship. It took some gentle coaching for him to understand what types of those intimacies were appropriate and where. When he was introduced to the notion that your lips were essentially free game for him, you would have thought he’d won the lottery. You by no means minded that his new favorite hobby was discovering all the ways he could leave your lips red and raw, but you preferred he not do it in public.

Still, some neck kisses and love bites seemed to be the extent of Choso’s exploration so far, and you weren’t sure if it was your place to introduce more to him just yet. The man made it hard though when he looked at you with those tired, sultry eyes. Little moments like this, where it was clear how easily tenderness came to him, had your mind wandering around questions of how nice those heated hands of his would feel running up the insides of your thighs.

“I know something that will warm you up faster.” His raspy voice pulled you from your sinful thoughts, the suggestive context making your eyes fly open to meet his loving gaze. The corners of your lips twitched up in anticipation as your breath mingled with his and created ghosts that danced against the contrasting frigid air between you. You tilted your head down to press a soft kiss against his thumb as you raised a questioning brow at him. “Hot chocolate? I found the thick one that Yuji likes.”

Despite the crushing disappointment that you felt in your core, down to the heat between your thighs, you couldn’t help but smile in amusement at his oblivion. Acting on a gnawing urge, you wrapped your arms around his thick torso from under his puffer jacket and squeezed him, a small part of you wishing he’d always stay this adorably oblivious.

“I’d kill for some, Cho.” You mumbled against his chest, sighing contentedly as his Herculean arms came around your shoulders to squeeze you back. A squeal of delight escaped you when you felt your feet leave the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips so you could climb into a more secure position, arms locked around his shoulders now as he began his trek back to the school with his hands gripping at your thighs.

It was something Choso took notice of very early on, how you’d flush instantly whenever he’d sweep you off your feet. That, and it didn’t hurt that his hands could wander without question when he was carrying you around wherever you went. His curiosity seemed to grow with each passing day, and he was quickly realizing that he was greedy, forever chasing an inexplicable craving he had for you that only drove him crazier the more he fed it. He had a general idea of what his body was asking of him, but the half-curse was still painfully unaware of how to broach the topic, or even what to do.

So, for now, he’d allow his hands to creep up the expanse of your plush thighs, the ones he could undoubtedly squeeze between his fingers till they fell off. You didn’t stop him as his veiny hands drifted up to cup at the swell of your rear, so he figured it was innocent enough, even if it felt so incredibly far from it. God, how his digits seemed to be lighting ablaze, that insatiable demon in the back of his mind roaring for more as it always did. He wondered if you’d notice, glancing at your contended side profile as he allowed his fingers to squish at those enticing pieces of you that seemed so off limits despite your lack of protest. They were soft, just as he thought they’d be, and maybe if he just snuck a few inches lower he’d be able to see if that heat that seemed to emanate from between your legs was—

“Having fun?” You mused, trying to calm the way your breath wanted to hitch as he drew closer and closer to where you so desperately wished he’d explore, but you were entering the common area now, and you really didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences should someone see his hand on its way to your now throbbing heat.

In an instant, he halted his exploration, and you chuckled breathily as you watched the blood creep up his neck.

“Sorry,” he stammered out, guilt beginning to eat at his chest. “I didn’t mean to make—”

“It’s okay, Cho.” You reassured, leaning back to look in his eyes that wanted to focus on anything but you at the moment. Your fingers crept up his nape to twist at the soft tufts of hair there, making him hesitantly peer at you. “You can… touch me wherever you want. Just when it’s us two though, okay?”

The thought had his mind spinning, his heart racing into his throat as he pondered all the possibilities. For now though, you were sliding down his torso, your boots hitting the wood floors with a small thud as you greeted his younger brother who perked up at your mention of hot chocolate. Choso blinked a few times when Yuji asked him if he was okay, and he quickly plastered on a smile, finally lighting up at the thought of spending some time with his two favorite people.

Though it didn’t happen how you two had expected, the brothers had actually grown closer since the beginning of your relationship. Maybe it was because Choso’s time was actually occupied by something else for a change, and it had finally given Yuji the space he needed to come to his older brother on his own volition. The other theory was tethering on the fact that the pink haired boy and his friends were genuinely baffled that the half-curse had managed to woo you into a relationship, and they were constantly trying to butt in these days to get a sense of how that dynamic even worked.

Either way, those little moments of Yuji’s incessant nosiness and reaching out to his brother for a change, you felt so lucky to have been able to watch a genuine connection form between the two.

You smiled warmly as you got the ingredients together, watching as they looked out the window at the snowman you two left behind. The younger boy was using some… colorful terms to describe the unique creation, surely just so he could rile Choso up as he was growing so expert at doing. Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you turned to Megumi and Nobara who had been spectating on the sidelines.

“You guys want some too?” You offered, pretending not to notice the way Choso now had his brother in a headlock as he demanded that he apologize for criticizing the snowman you had worked so hard on. Both observers mumbled in agreement, too busy trying to see who would win this one. With a defeated sigh, you began pulling out some mugs.

“Got enough for one more?”

The voice almost had you groaning in disappointment, but the last thing you wanted was to cause an unnecessary scene, so you simply clutched at the mug in your hand tightly before offering a tight lipped smile. The smug man leaned on the counter beside you gleamed as his lips twisted into a smirk.

“Want peppermint in yours?” You offered with as kind a voice you could manage, begrudgingly looking up at Hiroki, with his perfectly punchable face. Since you’d stood him up those months ago upon giving into Choso’s begging, he had been oh so subtly taunting around you. He was smart with it though, never blatant enough for anyone else to notice or even for you to point it out, but you could see it in that sneering glint in his eyes, he was holding it over your head.

“You trying to tell me I should freshen up for ya’?”

At this, both Nobara and Megumi tore their attention away from the fight to make sure they’d heard that correctly. Even Yuji stopped his attempts to fight his brother off to blink up dumbly at the suggestive comment. You felt the irritation creeping up your neck in the form of flushed skin at the thought of your students having to witness this painfully awkward situation.

“Dude, are you gonna let him do that in front of you?” The pink-haired boy whispered incredulously at Choso, who was still trying to gather why the energy in the room had changed so abruptly. His brows twitched down in confusion, and he couldn’t understand what was so wrong with the man’s words, but he knew your shoulders were tense and the smile on your face wasn’t a genuine one. Slowly releasing Yuji, he was by your side quicker than you could have processed that the room had grown so silent.

You felt his hand creep around to rest on your side as he smiled at Hiroki. A ball of guilt twisted in your stomach— you had never told Choso that he was the one you’d stood up all those months ago, and you certainly hadn’t told him about the way he’d been subtly taunting you about it either.

“Right,” you stammered, hoping desperately to pull it together lest you make the tension obvious to your oblivious boyfriend. “No peppermint then.”

“Actually, forget about mine— not as enticing when everyone wants it, y’know?” Hiroki shrugged with a poorly hidden smirk as he reached out to brush a stray hair behind your ear. For a second time that day, Choso could feel the energy shift, and he wasn’t sure why the man’s words felt sickening as they settled in the air around him. The hand on your waist tightened, and he pulled you just the few centimeters it took to press you against his side. He was sure if his fingers weren’t pressed to you, they would’ve found their way around this man’s neck. “But let me know when you’ve had your fill, yeah?”

As he walked away, Choso stepped forward, unsure of what he would do but acting on an instinct he had yet to feel throughout his self-exploration as a human. Your hand, still warm from the tight grasp you had on the mug before you, wrapped around his fingers to tug him back. As if coming back down to earth, he blinked a few times, looking back at you with that familiarly terrifying expression— though you were already used to it.

“Are… you okay?” He asked quietly, still unsure of what had transpired and why it seemed to have changed the trajectory of their otherwise pleasant day.

You nodded, looking away from his concerned gaze to top off his hot chocolate with some marshmallows. As he peered down at the mug now being presented to him, you held your breath. Slowly, he allowed his tired smile to once again replace his frown, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek in thanks. The memory of what had transpired still lingered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it ruin his day as he began handing the filled mugs out to his brother and his friends.

You hoped that Choso had forgotten the whole ordeal by that night. The scene kept replaying in your head as the steaming water from your shower ran down your back— how you just stood there and took it as he humiliated you. At the very least, you were grateful that your boyfriend wasn’t too well-versed in deciphering innuendos just yet, but it was clear that he knew something wasn’t quite right.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pulled him back, let him act on whatever his instincts were clearly telling him to do at that moment. Though Hiroki was a talented enough sorcerer, you were confident in the ways Choso could outmatch him in size as well as combat. It would have been satisfying enough just to see the look on his face as your otherwise docile boyfriend stalked toward him with nothing but human instinct and lean muscle on his side. You smiled at the thought while turning the shower off.

No matter how much he probably deserved the reality check, Hiroki was still technically your coworker. The last thing you wanted was a meeting with the higher ups about how ‘mixing business with pleasure always ended badly’. It gave you a headache just thinking about it. You could be civil, you rationed with yourself as you towel dried. You only wondered if you could say the same for Choso if he ever put two and two together.

Sighing wistfully, you hung up your towel, moving to grab your clothes and get dressed. Blinking a few times in confusion, you took note of the empty counter where you typically left your clothes waiting for you.

“Shit.” You groaned quietly, your heart picking up a bit at the mental image of your pajamas at the edge of your bed where you’d forgotten them. Chewing at your bottom lip, your eyes drifted to the closed door where you knew Choso was waiting on the other side of.

You shook your head at your unnecessary nerves. Sure, you two had never… explored each other in such a way yet, but you were both adults. Ripping your towel back off the rack, you wrapped it snuggly around yourself before cracking the door open and peeking out.

Your boyfriend was lying stomach down on your bed, surely pretending to be sleeping as he had a tendency of doing so you wouldn’t kick him out at the end of the day. Rolling your eyes at his performance, you quietly slipped through the door, hoping he’d keep his eyes closed long enough for you to gather your clothes and run back into the bathroom.

As you tiptoed to the other side of the bed, you weren’t expecting his eyes to already be open, now staring widely back at you with an unreadable expression. With a small yelp of surprise, you flinched back. It took expert reflexes, but you managed to catch your towel swiftly as it began to slip down your chest.

Choso would be a stone cold liar if he said he had never imagined what was always hiding beneath the chunky cardigans and oversized sweaters you seemed so fond of. Though he could say with full confidence that he didn’t expect to be so… distracted by it now that it was right in front of him. Well, underneath the towel you were clutching desperately to, but still— it stopped barely midway down your thighs, allowing his eyes to traverse the smooth expanse of your legs and give him just an infuriatingly small taste of the curve of your ass that began just where the fabric ended.

He felt his fingers twist into the pillow he had clutched underneath his head as his eyes traveled up to your chest, where the swell of your breasts threatened to burst out the top of your towel thanks to the tight grip it now had around your body. They were almost heaving in time with your labored breaths, still glistening from the water of your shower, and god did he want to just lick it off of you.

“I forgot my clothes.” You stated awkwardly, hoping that he’d either make a move already or just close his eyes. This though— the silent, wide eyed stares that did little to reveal just what was going on in that head of his, the anticipation of what might come— you weren’t sure you could handle it anymore.

Choso licked his lips, finally blinking for the first time in what seemed to you like hours, before slowly sitting up at the edge of the bed. Tearing his gaze from you, his eyes landed on the neatly folded clothes beside him. It felt as though there was lead in his arms as he carefully picked them up. Instead of handing them to you as you thought he would though, they instead hovered over his lap as he continued to stare down at them in uncertainty.

“Cho—” You began, but he finally looked up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He requested, fisting at your clothes while his eyes gave your body another once over before meeting yours again. “Just like this?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way his ominous eyes seemed to drink you in. Releasing a shaky breath, you took a tentative step toward him, now standing directly between his muscular legs. In an instant, he was dropping your clothes to the ground, head tilting back to watch what you’d do next.

With your fist tightening around your towel, you carefully raised your knee to rest it beside his hip before doing the same with the other until you hovered over his lap. His glistening, pink lips parted, and you swore you heard the tiniest of moans slip past them as his hands quickly found the small of your back to pull you into a snug straddle on his lap. One of his hands remained firmly on your back as the other crept up to softly grasp your jaw as he finally kissed you.

That long since dreamt about, golden spot between your legs was pressed right against him now, and, even with the god-forsaken barrier of his pants, he could feel its heat right on his groin. Choso whined into your mouth, the fresh scent of your body wash only adding to the circus of sensations that were overriding his system.

The hand on your jaw drifted down your damp neck, testing its luck as it grazed over the mound of your breast still covered by the towel. You arched against his tentative touch, and he wondered if you’d think he was completely depraved if he asked you to take the damned thing off. If only he knew you were only keeping the useless fabric on for the sake of him setting his own pace.

Despite this, you couldn’t help yourself as you allowed your hands to dance down his torso and creep under the hem of his crewneck. Your fingers greedily explored his chiseled physique, the sensation of his abs jolting against your touch making you press yourself into the steadily growing tent in his pants. Choso gasped greedily at the feeling, quickly pulling away from you to yank his shirt over his head once your hands reached his shoulders.

Had you been given the chance, you were sure you could have spent hours staring at each rippling muscle of his abdomen, the way even his shoulders looked so deliciously defined— you wanted to just lean forward and take a bite of him. So, you did, hands gripping at his bulging biceps for balance as you sunk your teeth into his firm trap. His jaw dropped open involuntarily, and it was now his turn to drive his solid bulge into your center. You moaned softly around his muscle, releasing it in favor of wet kisses to soothe the now irritated area.

Choso wanted so desperately to chase that sultry sound that had just swam into his ears. He gripped at the nape of your neck to pull you back, panting softly as he stared into your blown-out eyes.

“Did… did that feel good?” He asked, hoping to any god that would listen to him that he wasn’t all alone with these confusingly craven feelings.

“Yeah,” You quickly rasped out, placing a hand on his shoulder to push him back against the mattress. His hand hesitantly found your thigh, running his palm up the smooth flesh until his fingers met the hem of your towel. Leaning forward, you rolled your hips against his, delighting in the way his face scrunched up so gorgeously when he moaned. “Everything you do feels good to me, Cho.”

The fingers against your thigh squeezed at the fat there as his free hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear in hopes of getting a better look at you. Despite his mind being on a completely different astral realm at the moment, this movement struck a memory he desperately wanted to forget about right now.

Shaking his head subtly, he pushed it to the back of his mind and allowed his hand to creep under your towel as you leaned down to kiss him once again. Your skin was still warm from your shower, and his fingers were a mere inches away from your bare ass, and god why the fuck can’t he stop thinking about Hiroki and his grimy hands in your hair?

You pulled back a bit upon noticing the falter in his movements.

“You okay, Cho? You wanna stop?”

“No!” He insisted eagerly, cursing himself for ruining the moment. An amused smile played at your lips, and you leaned down to begin pressing wet kisses against his jaw. His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling, the same words replaying in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. In one swift moment, he sat up, hands gripped at your back so you didn’t fall off his lap as you yelped in surprise. “I just…”

The way your fingers were now tracing feather-light touches up the nape of his neck was making it hard for him to concentrate. Still, when he looked at you he could only see that unexplainably tense expression you’d given just a few hours ago. Whatever chills the sensation of your bare thighs pressed against the skin of his waist were producing though were wildly outnumbered by that gnawing feeling of dread growing steadily in his stomach.

“What did he mean?” Choso’s question came out firmly despite his apprehensive gaze. You tilted your head in question, but he quickly clarified upon seeing your confusion. “Hiroki.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, but your knowing expression still made his stomach churn.

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now, Cho?” You tried to smile easily at him, leaning forward to press another chaste kiss to his pouted lips, to which he returned quickly.

“Something is going on.” He pulled away just enough to mumble against your lips. With his forehead pressed against yours, you could feel the way his brows furrowed at the thought of being left out of something seemingly significant. You sighed, your warm breaths mingling in the minuscule space between you.

“Remember when I was gonna go on that date? You know, before we got together.” You began as you pulled away to sit back on his thighs. After a short moment of thought, he nodded. The slow unfurrowing of his brows told you he was already placing the pieces together though. “It was supposed to be with him, and… I guess he’s just still upset about how I went about it, is all.”

“So, when he said to let him know when you got your fill—”

“Choso, don’t think—”

“He meant of me.”

The mark against his nose twitched as his face heated, but for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was born from embarrassment or rage. You tried to gage the far off look in his eyes but were coming up short. A shiver shot down your spine when he looked at you once again, his dark eyes sharp as daggers.

“He talked about you like you were food.” He spat, the rest of the odd conversation finally clicking in his mind. The fingers against your back dug into your towel before he carefully maneuvered you to the spot beside him. You quickly sat up when he snatched his crewneck from the end of the bed. Grabbing blindly at your sweatpants, you shoved them on under your towel.

“What are you doing?” You questioned cautiously, gripping at the other end of his sweater to stop him.

“I’m going to talk to him.” But the enraged glint in his eyes told you he had more detailed plans than he was letting on.

“No, you’re not.” You insisted, tugging on his arm.

“This isn’t the first time he’s talked to you like this, is it?” He assumed, searching your face as if daring you to lie. “I don’t like this. I’m going to say something.”

“Choso, I’m asking you to please let it go.” You pleaded as you tugged him down to sit beside you. “If you make a scene, I’m going to be the one who will have to clean it up later. Please, I’m a big girl— you don’t need to defend me.”

His shoulders slowly deflated while taking in the desperation in your eyes. He could feel his resolve slipping from right underneath him.

“Will it really upset you?”

“It really will.”

The man’s sigh morphed into a quiet groan that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been so close to him at the moment. His shadowy eyes, still swimming with that unmistakable vexation, watched as the frigid air finally caught up to you, and a subtle tremble shook your frame. Pursing his pouted lips, he slipped his forgotten crewneck over your head before pulling the damp towel off of you.

“Are you gonna kick me out now?” He muttered, widening his eyes in the matter he knew you always seemed to melt for. As you had already come to recognize— Choso catches on fast.

“You can stay as long as you do that heater thing with your hands again.” You compromised with a grin, watching as he wasted no time pulling the covers over the two of you. Scooting closer to you, both his hands came up to cup your face, and you soon melted into the warmth that flooded them. Humming contentedly, you reached up to hold onto his wrist as you allowed your eyes to drift shut.

He studied you as you relaxed against him, the fat of your cheeks squished against his hands, and he felt his heart accelerate. It had been a few months now since he began learning of this side of humanity— learning about you. No matter how much he seemed to squeeze at you when he had the privilege of being beside you, or how ever long he’d spend memorizing the divots and marks on your face, nothing Choso did ever stopped the longing he felt for you when you parted. A soft call of your name had you humming in question, too comfortable to bother opening your eyes.

“Do you think you’ll ever… get your fill of me?”

At his apprehensive question, you sighed wistfully, blindly trailing your hand up until it tangled into his hair.

“I could never get enough of you, Cho. I— ” I love you. The words died in your throat. Cracking your eyes open, you found that he was already peering back at you, patiently awaiting the rest of your sentence. Was he ready for that? Were you ready for that? Even so, you questioned if he would really understand the depths of your words enough to reciprocate them genuinely. Twisting your fingers into the hair on his nape, you tugged at it gently, the way he always shivered over. “I think you’re my favorite guy.”

The way he smiled warmly at you, eyes glistening as he started from scratch once again making sure he had every part of you committed to memory, told you that your meaning got across anyway. One of his hands creeped around to the back of your head to pull you against his bare chest, slotting his leg between yours in hopes of enveloping you completely.

“You’re my favorite girl.”

As the two of you went about your week, you prayed that your intimate reassurance would be enough for Choso. Though you could hardly blame him for getting so upset, you wouldn’t change your stance on him letting this one go. And, truthfully, he had all but forgotten it that next morning when he woke up beside you. The only thing still fresh in his mind was your sweet promise, the reassurance that, of all the men that had waltzed into your life, he had somehow managed to find himself at the top of your list.

This haze-like bliss only lasted so long though, and he was rudely reminded of the need for that conversation in the first place when he saw Hiroki again. The man wasn’t even doing anything wrong, simply talking to one of the supervisors about his next assignment, but everything about him made Choso’s blood boil.

You had agreed to go on a date with him once, so that must mean at some point in time, in some shape or form, you had been interested in him, too. It was selfish, childish even, but to hell if he didn’t feel like a petulant toddler at the very thought of it. Tearing his eyes away from the man, he continued to remind himself of your request.

“You gonna show this dude up or what?” Nobara suddenly questioned with a quirk of her perfectly defined brow. Luckily, your fondness of the half-curse helped Yuji’s friends warm up to him more, though they still had difficulty relating to his strange demeanor half the time.

Choso grumbled under his breath, continuing to collect the materials they needed for their sparring today. A part of him wanted to yell that he was trying to, but he thought it best to keep the kids out of his relationship with their sensei.

“Yeah, bro, I can’t believe you didn’t kick his ass the other day.” Yuji guffawed with a shake of his head.

“It’s not worth the trouble.” He responded simply, hoping that they’d change the subject so he could think of anything else.

“Like hell it is!” The redhead scoffed, piling the targets she was holding into Megumi’s arms so she could pop her hip at the man before her. “You’re underestimating how much girls like a man that fights for them.”

This made Choso’s movements falter for a moment. Should he really be taking romantic advice from teenagers? Yuji circled around him as he continued driving home their point.

“Yeah, you’re basically giving this dude free reign to flirt with your girl when you just stand there and let it happen.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” The half-curse finally defended, his mind reeling with the mixed information he was receiving.

“Then do something about it!” Kugisaki shouted in exasperation as the trio followed him outside. “You want her to feel unappreciated? Get bored of you?”

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, the memory of Hiroki’s taunting playing like a sick melody in the back of his head. Perhaps if he had been in a different state of mind, not already plagued with insecurities of which he’d never had to worry about before, he would have been able to recognize that the teenagers probably didn’t know best. But it wasn’t different though, and insecurity and jealousy were rearing their ugly heads at him in a first time’s greeting.

Choso was far too consumed in these new, vile emotions to not allow these kids’ words to seep into his veins. So, when Hiroki passed by him with that nasty smirk on his smug face as the student’s were sparring, purposefully shouldering at the half-curse’s already tensed arm, rational thought was out the window. His hand quickly wrapped around the man’s wrist before he could leave. Taking a calculated breath, he thought that maybe talking wouldn’t be so bad.

“What’s your pro—”

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m asking you to stop.” Choso explained levelly, his grip unintentionally tightening around his wrist as Hiroki raised an amused brow at him. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Easy man, c’mon.” There was the smallest trace of unease in the man’s falsely nonchalant voice. He tugged at his arm in an attempt to free it, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening before he agreed to the request being laid before him. “I haven’t done anything to her.”

“I know you think I’m stupid, but I’m not.” Choso seethed, and perhaps that insecurity was doing the speaking for him, because he just knew how he appeared to everyone else. Despite his age, he was less experienced, less assimilated to the world around him, and though he tried, he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch up. Still, he wasn’t a child, and the last thing he wanted was for you to ever think of him as someone who couldn’t be there for you because of his inexperience with humanity. “And she might be worried about making a mess, but I’m not.”

He wasn’t sure what was coming over him, but it felt as though he might implode without the opportunity to prove himself to this scum who at one point had a shot with you— who was fucking with you right under his nose. Hiroki scoffed “There’s no need for all that. We’re friends right?” Using his free hand, he patted Choso’s shoulder with an attempted brotherly bonding gesture before leaning into his ear. “No bitch worth getting a black eye for, right?”

He wasn’t sure what caught the trio’s attention away from their sparring first— the instantaneous morphing of his blood mark as it traversed the length of his vexed face in tandem with his last resolve of patience snapping, or the literal snapping of Hiroki’s wrist under his crushing grip.

“Call her by her name.” His heated demand somehow made it out over the pained yells of the man crumpling to his knees before him.

“I—”

“Actually,” Choso’s indignation wouldn’t let him just shut the fuck up and let it go. The feeling of bones crunching under his grip didn’t quell his anger— it made it worse. He was boiling over, bursting at the seams in search of relief that was nowhere in sight. “Don’t speak to her again— don’t speak about her again.”

He thought it would help, give him a sense of accomplishment that he’d protected you from the disrespect of the lesser than individuals you were forced to call coworkers. What he didn’t understand though, was the fact that he was protecting himself. This man could come and make you think lesser of him, and how could he not do anything to stop it? Though he’d had time for his confidence in areas such as combat and technique to flourish over the years, Choso still held the vulnerability of a man decades younger than his body revealed.

Despite his own justification, nothing would do away with the precipicing guilt setting his guts ablaze with discomfort. It couldn’t be explained— Hiroki deserved it, he deserved the humiliation of having to wake in the morning with the knowledge that everyone saw him brought to his knees so easily. So, why was the half-curse’s mind reeling with dramatized scenarios of how he might explain himself to you when the news undoubtedly found your ears? No matter the myriad of alternate endings he’d concocted though, nothing could have truly prepared him for the betrayal in your eyes as you burst into his space that night.

Choso stood from the edge of his bed with a haste, as if trying to shroud the fact that he’d been staring at the door with an inexplicable immobility for what seemed like hours. His eyes fluttered as the heavy door fell back against its frame with a thud. Your lips parted, almost as though you had your monologue pre-planned from the moment you began your enraged trek toward his living space, but they shut with a click of your teeth as your face scrunched in frustration.

His feet were planted firmly into the wooden floors beneath him, preparing himself for the calculated rage that was surely building within that heavenly frame of yours. What came though was worse, because your words were quiet and your eyes lost that flare of outrage that they held when you first entered, replaced by a hoaxed glimmer that made your irises gloss over heartbreakingly.

“I asked you not to, Choso.” Your cheeks were still ablaze with an unfamiliar rouge, and he wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of the cold nipping at your skin or an internal ticking clock.

“How could I have ignored it?” He tried, but you were shaking your head before the last syllables spilled from his lips.

“Because I asked you not to.” You ground out once again, that rage making a sudden resurgence as you took an indignant step toward him. “Do you know how humiliated I was?”

“You didn’t hear what he said about—”

“I don’t care what he said!” You gasped in exasperation, a smile of disbelief gracing your face before it fell back into that painful scrunch that made his soul cry out. “I don’t care about him. I care about you, I care about my job, my reputation, Choso!”

The man fell silent before you, his face beginning to sting from the blood rushing to his mortified cheeks. He could only stare down at you with that familiar pout as you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head.

“I had to hear about how I was the cause of some pissing match today that put one of our sorcerers on leave.” You began pacing the room in your incensed explanation. Choso wanted to ask you what that meant, as he always felt so comfortable doing with you, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. “Which, by the way, I am now having to help out on missions during said leave, just to put a cherry on top of this shit cake.”

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“No you’re not, you’re sorry because I’m having to clean it up like I told you I would.” You knew you might have been laying it on a little thick, but logic was racing from you in the midst of your humiliation.

“You’re right, I’m not sorry.” He stated affirmatively, as if just now coming to this realization himself. Your brows shot into your hairline. “And you can’t expect me to be, it’s not fair. I can’t, I don’t know—”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen you learn to do things a hell of a lot harder than controlling your anger, Choso.”

“No— I don’t know how to not feel like I’m not good enough for you.” He finally confessed, face ablaze with a shameful tint of red. Your arms gradually fell from their defensive position, hovering at your sides with the weight of a thousand bricks as you watched the dampness gather in his waterline. “I-I’m sorry I made things hard for you, but I don’t know what to do with these feelings. You might have had time to figure it out, but this is my first time, okay?”

“Choso—” You breathed softly, reaching out for him when he turned from you to bury the heels of his hands into his leaking eyes.

“I’m sorry if I messed up. I just don’t know, I don’t—” His trembling ramble was cut short when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “Sometimes I don’t understand when someone is making fun of me right to my face, but I didn’t care until they started doing it to you, and I was…” You felt him take a shuddering breath. “I was too clueless to be there for you, or to defend you, or—”

“Cho, please look at me.” You pleaded gently. With an anxious air that was just so like him, he slowly shifted in your loosening grasp until you were looking right up at his blushing, tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I didn’t know you were feeling like this.”

His somber eyes drifted to the side as if unable to look at you as he carefully sank onto the floor. You placed a hand on his shoulder while you lowered your beside him, watching carefully as he shoved his head into his hands.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I’m the one that messed up.” He corrected affirmatively. After a moment though, he peeked up at you with a hesitant purse of his lips. “Well, I didn’t mess up when I broke his wrist. I’d do it to his other hand too if I had the chance.”

Despite the mess his aforementioned actions had spilled upon you, you couldn’t help but laugh softly with an incredulous shake of your head.

“Can I be honest?” You questioned, nudging against his arm with your shoulder, and he nodded with a quick sniffle. “I’m almost more upset that I didn’t get to see it.”

This helped ease some of the palpable tension in his shoulders, knowing that if you were still able to laugh with him that he hadn’t entirely fucked everything up. A shy smile spread shakily across his wet lips. Leaning forward, you brushed a featherlight touch against his cheek.

“Sometimes I feel things so deeply, and I don’t know where to put it all.” His attempted explanation made your heart warm. “I don’t know how to make sense of them, and I don’t know if I’m the only one feeling them.”

“Give them to me then.” You insisted, shifting to sit on your knees in front of him. “I’ll help you. I always have, remember? You have to talk to me though.”

Give them to you? There was a point so early on in your relationship when he was willing to do so without question, eager to learn whatever wisdom your advantage on humanity could give him. You always seemed to have the right answer— the ones that made it all click into place. Choso was learning though that as your relationship blossomed, as did the complexity of all those human emotions— as did the intensity of them. How far could he push before the impending possibility came to fruition that he was alone in these alien feelings?

“I thought if he kept talking about me that… eventually you’d believe him.”

You maneuvered closer to him until his hands found your waist, inviting you to sit on his lap. Running your hands up the sides of his neck, he closed his eyes as your fingers slipped into his hair.

“Did you think any less of me because of what he said?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes quickly cracked open, and he stared back at you as if offended that you’d ask such a thing of him.

“No, I would never—”

“Then how could you believe I’d ever think less of you?”

Silence hung between you, weighing you down on his lap as he stared back at you. Your words made him feel guilty— as though he had betrayed you by thinking so lowly of your devotion to him. His eyes drifted down your face, lips parting with an unspoken apology lingering between the minuscule space separating your mouth from his.

“I… I have something for you.”

His words were familiar, making your lips curl up at the memory of the day he’d confessed his feelings for you. Tilting your head, you squinted your eyes teasingly.

“Is it another car?” You quipped, almost breaking your resolve as you watched his face fall, eyes drifting to the side in doubt before meeting yours once again.

“Do you want another car?”

God, how could you ever stay mad at him?

You clung onto Choso’s shoulders as he piggybacked you back to your dorm, purposefully jostling you here and there just to hear your harmonious giggles. Though you told him you could walk just fine on your own, he insisted on taking you himself— not that you fought him terribly hard on it either. In fact, you found it endearing how much he delighted in carrying you around, though you weren’t sure if it was due to his own enjoyment or the knowledge that you simply melted each time for it.

“Close your eyes.” Choso scolded as he looked back at your curious gaze once he’d reached your door. Huffing in frustration, you allowed your eyes to shut, your head falling against his shoulder in defeat. You heard him rustiling with the spare key you’d given him— not that he had ever managed the tenacity to invite himself in without your prior invitation. Each time, you’d shake your head in amusement at the sound of his gentle raps against your door, and each time you’d remind him that he had his own key.

The lingering smell of your festive candle flooded your nose as he stepped into the room, making you sigh contendedly. He crouched down until you felt your bum hit the soft comforter of your bed, and he carefully released you.

“Don’t look yet.” He commanded clemently as you bounced back gently against your mattress.

“Not peeking.” You assured with a smile, anticipation tickling up your toes and into your legs as he leaned down to press a swift kiss against your forehead. Upon feeling him pull away, your chest caved a bit in disappointment, your thoughts already having wandered far from whatever likely innocent surprise he had awaiting you.

There was a subtle rustling on the other end of the room before a soft click had your curiosity reeling.

“Um— okay, you can look now.”

Squinting your eyes open, you were met with a myriad of gently twinkling lights. Blinking a few times to focus your vision on the sudden onslaught of brightness, an abrupt gasp escaped you at the sight of the lit up Christmas tree in the corner of your space. The ornament adorning it were a mess of contrasting colors, some too close together while there were various bare spots on the tree. Most of the decorations, you noted with a suppressed giggle, were focused on the upper half of the tree while it remained awkwardly vacant toward the bottom. It was a bit crooked, leaning marginally toward the right in its stand. It was far from the meticulously coordinated trees you had grown so accustomed to setting up, but it was perfect to you nonetheless.

“Do you like it?” Choso questioned anxiously, smiling apprehensively at his first attempted Christmas tree. With his shadowy eyes fluttering from his handiwork to your awe-struck face, he tilted his head. “I can change it if you don’t like it.”

“When did you do this, Cho?” You breathed out incredulously, feeling the salty dampness already gathering pathetically in your waterline. Sliding off the bed, you took a few, slow steps toward the tree.

“Oh— I… I came this morning after you left for class.” He explained with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for coming in without— hmph!”

His practically instinctual apologies were cut short as you tossed yourself onto his chest, arms wrapping snuggly around his neck. Without question, he was trailing his needy hands up your back to press you closer to him, dipping his nose into your nape with that love-sick smile of his.

“This is alot better than a car.” You attempted a joke through your onslaught of emotions, but the slight tremble in your voice was betraying you. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You said Christmas gifts have to go under a tree.” Your boyfriend said obviously, and you followed his gaze to the choppily wrapped present sitting under said tree. Biting down your grin, you peered back up at him with a raised brow.

“And would that be for me too, babe?” You teased, revelling in the sheepish smile that softened his intimidatingly sharp features as he nodded. “Well what do you want for Christmas, Cho?”

The sun was steadily setting outside your window, causing the soft glow of the string lights to warm your sparkling eyes as they stared up at him in question. The warmth in his flushed cheeks seemed to drain from his face, settling like stones at the pit of his stomach. Gulping at the lump in his throat, he shook his head softly at your question.

“I don’t think I should answer that.” He sighed out honestly, lips twitching nervously under your questioning gaze.

“What do you mean?”

The tilt of your head made your luscious hair sway just so, the ends brushing teasingly against his arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Had you focused enough, you would have felt the way his heart was beating out of his firm chest, making his breathing labor.

Give them to me. Your words rang in the back of his muddled mind. That overwhelming sense of uncertainty and confusion flooded him once again, and though you had specifically told him you’d walk him through anything, this just seemed too daunting a confession.

“It’s not—” His tongue darted out to lick his drying lips, and your wanton eyes followed the movement with a sharp precision. “I don’t think it’s… appropriate.”

Your brows rose marginally at his claim, the realization flooding you with the unconscious squeeze of his hands on your waist. A deep, calculated breath had your chest rising to brush against his, and you felt him shudder at the proximity.

“It’s… just us here.” You offered quietly, hoping your silent invitation was enough for him to burst out of the anxious shell he’d been hiding behind all these months. He furrowed his brows in contemplation at your words, weighing whether the fruits of his vulnerability would outweigh the humiliation of possible rejection. Biding his time, he leaned down to press a longing kiss against your awaiting lips, the little remaining blood that was keeping his mind functioning properly rushing down south.

“Just us?” He repeated breathlessly against your lips as he tried to make sense of the new territory he was daring to traverse.

You nodded urgently, reaching up on your tiptoes to chase his panting mouth. Choso’s hands traveled down your waist to hook under your bum, hoisting you up around his hips as he carefully sunk to his knees. The soft whimpers escaping him were driving you into a nonsensical stupor despite his attempts to swallow them down.

Shifting your hips forward, you urged him to fall back against his hands, his long fingers digging into the plush rug beneath him. You took advantage of the exposed expanse of his heaving chest, running your hands down his pecks until your fingers were dancing across the ripples of his abs as you bit at his lips. His response to your explorative touch was almost instantaneous, raising his hips in a desperate hope that your hands would slip just a few inches lower.

All his not-so-subtle thrust did though was drive his painfully constricted length right against your inner thigh, the friction nearly causing his arms to buckle underneath of him. You had never mentioned it before— all the times his cock would press against you in such an embarrassingly obvious fashion. It never took much at all, and Choso wasn’t sure if your nonchalance at the feeling was because it was normal, or if you were simply saving face for him as you so endearingly did more often than not.

Whichever it was though, he couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were dragging your hips against him as though you knew much more about his affliction than you dared to let on. The moan that left him almost teetered on the edge of a cry, and he brought a hand up to push against the subtle arch in your back, pressing you firmly against where he needed you the most.

Your warm breath shuddered against his swollen lips as you moaned. The hands you had on his abdomen clutched desperately at his shirt, fighting for your composure because you could feel every inch of him straining right against your core, and his sweatpants were doing little to leave anything to the imagination. Pulling away from you in a frenzy, his eyes remained squeezed shut as his fingers dug into the fabric of your sweater.

“Help me.” He pleaded, opening his eyes hesitantly to catch your reaction with burning cheeks.

“He-Help you?” You repeated unassuredly, and he nodded quickly as your face flushed with the implications of his request.

The hand on your back snaked around to tangle in with your own fingers, tentatively maneuvering your hand down his naval. His breath hitched as he guided you over his waistband, and he peered up at you timidly. A damp warmth spread along the lining of your panties at the raw vulnerability of his movements. When you made no indication of protest, his fingers danced up to grip gently at your wrist before you finally took the initiative to finish his clearly set out path, wrapping your hand around the prominent length poking through the outline of his bottoms.

“Please.” Choso gasped out, bucking up into your warm hand. A blissed out hum reverberated in his chest, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. “This is all I want. You’re all I want.”

Your thusfar gentle grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly at his tender words, and it was almost instinctual when you palmed him purposefully, squeezing carefully toward his tip in a manner that had him reduced to puddy beneath you. Fighting through your lustful haze, you nodded deliriously at his request, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Choso,” It was clear that you were trying so very hard to steady your voice, and your careful tone flooded into his consciousness. His darkly-lined eyes were half-lidded as they regarded you in question. “Have you… ever touched yourself?”

This made his gaze widen just a hair, the mark across his nose twitching in a tell-tale sign of his embarrassment. Though it seemed impossible, his face seemed to flush that much brighter as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to gather his composure before he answered you. A shaky huff escaped him as he cast his gaze to the side, and your free hand reached up to brush the hair from his face.

“It’s okay, it’s normal. I just want to understand how much you know.” You explained gently. At this, his lashes shifted as he hesitantly looked back up at you before offering a nod so subtle you almost missed it.

His mind was reeling with memories of all the mornings he’d spent with his hand shoved haphazardly down his pants, dreams of you having roused him from his sleep and lingering without any hope of solace. He thought about how dirty he’d felt when facing you afterwards, ignorant to the fact that he’d spilled himself onto his own mattress with fantasies that one day it’d be you. After so long of feeling isolated and depraved in these unfamiliar cravings, you were right here above him, your hand stroking up his cock in an all too familiar motion, telling him he was normal.

You nodded slowly at his confirmation, releasing your grip on him to trail your fingers along the sliver of skin exposed between where his shirt had ridden up and his waistband. His large frame trembled at the miniscule touch, hips rising in anticipation of your next move. The sudden shift dragged his length right against your pulsing clit, and you could barely disguise your breathy moan as you leaned into the friction.

The wheels were turning in his head as he absorbed your reaction, his curious eyes locked onto where you two were connected. He tentatively raised a hand and settled it testingly just below your belly button before peering up at you.

“Can I… touch you too?”

You hummed affirmatively, quickly maneuvering back as Choso leaned forward purposefully to lay you against the pillowy rug just beside the Christmas tree. He hovered on his knees between your spread legs, eyes drifting all over as if he didn’t know where to start. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hands began their wavering trek up the sides of your thighs. Feeling him pause at your waistband, you cracked your eyes open.

“You can take them off.” You offered, watching the way his eyes lit up. “—if you want.”

If he wanted. The man could have laughed in your face, because he’d be damned if he wanted anything more right now.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, you assisted him by lifting your hips while he tugged them down. In his desperate pursuit, the laced hem of your panties were partially yanked down, leaving them bunched and just barely covering your intimates. He was leaning down, eyes locked on your center as though it might disappear if he blinked too long. His intense gaze made you flush, and you weren’t expecting it when he pushed the nearly translucent fabric to the side, the sudden gust of cool air against your wetness making you shiver.

Choso hummed, but you could swear it morphed into a soft groan as he decided that this view just wouldn’t do before sliding your panties off as well. The sight of your plush folds glistening under the twinkling Christmas lights was causing a sheen sweat to break out across his neck, and he pulled uncomfortably at the fabric of his shirt.

“Take it off, Cho.” You pleaded, desperate to not be the only one so exposed.

There was no need to tell him a second time, and his shirt was quickly joined with your discarded bottoms. Moved by the wanton way your eyes seemed to drink him in, he found himself crawling up over you to kiss you once again. Your hands wrapped greedily around his broad shoulders, nails working their way across his taut skin. He gasped against you as your hips rolled up in desperate search of friction, your wet warmth grazing against his covered thigh.

“How? Show me how to touch you.” He rasped out, trembling hands already dancing down your naval as he propped himself up with his free arm. Much like he’d done just moments prior, you laced your finger through his, guiding them through your folds.

“Here.” You gasped as his warm fingers grazed your clit. Choso’s face crumpled at the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. You pressed down on his middle and ring finger with your own, encouraging the soft circular motions around your swollen bud. The back of your head hit the rug as you arched into his touch, slowly removing your guiding hand once the motion had grown familiar to him.

“Am I doing it right?” His question came out practically a whisper as he watched you writhe against his hand. The strain in his pants was becoming painful at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the sensual circles that were sending you into such a whimpering frenzy, by his hand nonetheless.

“Mhmm,” You hummed, one hand drifting up to grip at his bicep as the other trailed under your sweater, lifting it up in search of relief from the sudden sweltering heat Choso seemed to emanate. “You’re doing so good for me, Cho.”

A groan worked its way up his throat at your praise, and his hips lurched forward in search of the pathetic friction your leg could provide him. His desperation was sending sparks up your thighs, making his slippery massaging feel that much more heavenly as you felt the familiar coil tightening in your stomach.

Your jaw popped open, the hand that had found its way under your sweater clutching at your breast as if it could ground you. Choso’s eyes followed the movement hungrily. The swell of your breasts were just barely peeking out from the hem of your top, but it was enough to drive him into a frenzy if he couldn’t see what it was hiding immediately.

“Take it off.” He commanded with a wavering resolve, his fingers increasing their pressure against you in anticipation.

Had your teetering release not been solely in his hands at the moment, you would have teased him for his sudden burst of assertive confidence, but you thought you might begin kicking and screaming if anything deterred his rhythmic motions right now. Crossing your arms over your chest to grasp at the bottom of the offending sweater, you messily ripped it over your head before settling back against the rug that was now warm from your imprint.

Your breasts bounced with your abrupt motions, and Choso felt the saliva gather embarrassingly on his tongue. It was far too clouded in your mind for you to notice though, your breaths beginning to come out in short pants as your peak drew nearer and nearer.

“Please, please, please.” You babbled nonsensically, gripping at his forearm as your hips began grinding against his fingers. And, god, he wasn’t sure what you were begging for, but he knew he’d lay down his life right here and now if it meant he could deliver it to you on a silver dish, because he knew for certain that he’d never had the privilege of laying his eyes on anything nearly as debauchedly stunning as your naked body submitted so vulnerably beneath him.

“Anything, I’ll give you anything.” He rationed through lustfully slurred words. Dipping down, he pressed drooling kisses against your heaving breasts, succumbing to a primal desire as he sunk his teeth into one of them.

“Cho—” Your choked plea pitched until it fell silent all together.

Shifting his weight from his propped arm to his knees, he used his now free hand to press down against your hip as your thighs began trembling with the force of your climax. A warming flush spread from your scalp down your spine, sending tingles of relief down each of your nerves until you slumped back against the ground.

“Ah— ah!” You stammered out as your boyfriend continued his purposeful ministrations against your now overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. Slamming your thighs shut against his wrist, you attempted to shimmy away from his relentless fingers. “Too much, Cho, it’s too much!”

His lips popped off your breast to pout wetly at you, the hand on your waist pulling you back down toward him as his fingers finally paused their assault on your center. Loosening the squeeze your thighs had trapped him in, he ran his hand up your stomach and chest before grasping the side of your neck.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the dampness that clung to his lashes and the way his brows were drawn softly together as he looked down at you hazily.

“Choso? Are you—”

“I love you.”

Despite having been spread open before him just seconds ago while coming undone on his fingers, you somehow felt all the more exposed now. Your eyes fluttered a few times, and you drew your arms closer to your chest as though it would shield you from his raw gaze. A breathy, forced laugh escaped you as you shook your head softly at him.

“You’re just turned on right now, Choso.” You tried to brush off his sudden confession, protecting your pride from falling victim to his naivety. He shook his head though, pulling you up until you sat perched upon his lap.

“No, I love you.” He stated again, this time more matter of factly. “You’re the only one who treats me like.. I’m human and not a curse. You’re the only one who makes me feel like I am human.” His fingers wrapped hesitantly around your forearms as he gently coaxed your arms away from their defensive positions. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”

A soft tremor wobbled your bottom lip, but you willed yourself to pull it together. Allowing your protective walls to crumble down with your last bit of resolve, you pushed at his chest until his back hit the floor. Not once did he let his eyes drift from yours, even as your fingers dug into his waistband to tug down the remainder of his clothes.

His swelled length sprang free from the fleece lined prison they had been straining against for painfully long, falling against his stomach with a barely noticeable smack. You thought he might shy away from you, flush that familiar shade of red you’d begun making synonymous with him in your mind, but it only felt so natural to him to have your lingering eyes on even the most intimate parts of him.

“Of course I do.” You whispered, moving to straddle his slim, defined waist. A shudder racked your body at the feeling of his thick cock pressing against your stomach, his tip already smeared with evidence of his arousal. His mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sensation of your soaked folds running across his length. With his rustled hair splayed out on the floor surrounding his head, pupils creating black holes in his already midnight stained eyes, you concluded that Choso would never stop growing more beautiful. “I love you.”

With a fluttering blink, a stray tear gathered at the corner of his eye, slipping down his temple as you nudged his tip past your slicked entrance. It had admittedly been a while since you were last intimate with someone, so you couldn’t help but wince subtly at the stretch of his girth forcing your walls open. For him though, he wouldn’t know the difference, because he was inside you, and your heat was enveloping him like flames licking up his every nerve ending.

His hands hovered over your back as you slowly sank down onto him, unable to find the courage to disrupt you until he was finally buried in you to completion. With featherlight brushed against your spine, Choso ran his fingers down the expanse of the silken skin on your back until he met the curve of your ass. Curling his grasp around the plush of fat he’d learned he could utterly worship till the day his body became one with the earth, he held you in place for a moment.

By the heaving of his chest and the tremble in his pitched moan, you knew he wouldn’t last very long, but you were satisfied enough to watch him come undone under the careful touch of someone who truly loved him— someone he truly loved.

“Hah, I— I love you.” The man gasped again, teary eyes rolling back into his skull as you steadied your hands on his chest to lift your hips just barely off him before sliding back down. You bit at your bottom lip as his tip grazed against that plush of nerves that hadn’t been explored in so long. His lips were pulling down into his famous pout while he planted his heels into the ground to chase your rhythm with sloppy thrusts of his own.

“I love you, Cho.” You reciprocated through a harmonious moan, watching his face scrunch up pitifully as the pace of his hips grew erratic.

“Bite me—ah!” He whimpered softly, puppy dog eyes pleading up at you in the way he knew you could never refuse.

Your lips curled up at his request, unaware of just how much your previous actions had lingered in his mind. Tracing up the firm planes of his chest, your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at it to maneuver his head to the side before leaning down to sink your teeth into the first bite you had left on him, the mark just barely faded on his trap.

Choso felt utterly consumed by you, his heart thumping wildly in his muffled ears. With the pressure of your fingers’ grasp against his roots combined with the subtle sting of your canines against the sensitive skin just below his neck, it took all but one last supple roll of your hips for it all to come crashing down on him.

His eyes rolled back, a delirious grin tickling his lips at the sensation that he was all yours to use. The once gentle squeeze his fingers had on your bottom morphed into a frenzied digging, surely leaving crescent shaped marks in the wake of his chipping nails. It was meant to hold you there, ensure your hips stayed glued to his own as he spilled himself inside of you with bone grinding thrusts. He could feel himself oozing out of you and onto the unsuspecting rug beneath him, but none of it mattered to him because he finally understood.

It didn’t matter the spiteful words that would slice across his vulnerable soul, and it didn’t matter whether or not someone thought he was human enough for you. What he was experiencing now, enveloped in the must of sex-littered air that surrounded you was all the confirmation he’d ever need that he was irrevocably soul tied to you. The half-curse had seen the absolute pinnacle of humanity, and you were perched upon it with your drooping breasts and pleasure-ridden face— the one that made the space between your brows crease and your nails dig into whatever slab of muscle on him was closest to you.

As he finally began tumbling down the hill of his climax, his hands drifted up to splay across your back, keeping you pressed against his sweat lined chest. The twinkling lights in his peripheral seemed to blur at the edges of his sight as they mixed with his lingering tears. You were working gentle kisses up his neck, dragging your wet lips across his sharp jaw until you finally circled back to his still swollen lips. He hummed against your kiss, deciding affirmatively that he’d stay awkwardly splayed out across the floor of your dorm all night long if it meant he could keep you this close.

“I… I think I have to get you a better Christmas gift.” Choso concluded, revelling in the sensation of your warmth still enveloping his softening manhood. “Yours was way better.”

You laughed tiredly against his cheek, pulling back to peer down at him in question.

“What did you get me?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked over at the small gift that sat just a few feet away from you under the tree with a soft pout.

“It’s… it’s a Britney Spears CD.”

this was supposed to come out before christmas, but alas the procrastination won this time, so sorry for the delay :(

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

taglist: @huuuhwhaat , @trishiepo0 , @makingtimemine

427 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 29 days ago

Text

DROGA

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Based on Droga - Mora, C. Tangana

I apologise for any whiplash experienced while reading this x

[…]

The sea breeze whispers through the open doors of Alexia’s room in this year’s off-season villa, curtains billowing as though they are gently signalling her to get on with her day.

She groans when she wakes up alone.

She hasn’t yet grown accustomed to that.

With groggy eyes and blurred thoughts, as she sits up, the only thing that comes to mind is you. Last year. Italy and beautiful memories in that suite. A balcony that wasn’t as private as you had decided.

She smiles. She frowns.

If it were up to her, she’d do it all again. “Fuck Ibiza,” she’d say, and book somewhere for the two of you. She would get to know you once more, close the chasm that ruptured your relationship.

“Alexia!” Someone is shouting her name from outside. Probably Jenni, already in a bikini, halfway to drunkenness despite the sun still lingering in the east. “Alexia-a!”

“¿Qué quieres?” she barks back, wincing at the tension in her tone. She told herself she would be cool. Adaptable. Even if the roof has been blown off her house of love and only the skeleton is left.

Alexia shakes her limbs as though the pricks on her insides will disappear. Methodically, she prepares herself to have fun. She will have fun. She’s fine.

Jenni and Leila. It’s Jenni and Leila who ruin her mood.

As she has already reassured herself, she’s fine. But now she’s drunk. And she’s thinking — thinking about things. You, mostly. What happened. How it was entirely accidental on her part.

She didn’t give you her heart. It was a robbery. Stolen by smashing down walls and sweet-talking her into staying the night and going on dates and falling love. Alexia didn’t do love before you. Drunk-Alexia declares to Jenni and Leila that she will not be doing love after you, either.

“You’re still in love with her,” Leila says, eyes glistening under the warm string-lights draped across the imaginary walls of the villa’s patio. Her smile is encouraging. Satisfied.

Alexia is shaking her head. “But if I saw her with someone else”—she’s still disagreeing at this point—”I’d make a scene.”

“Oh, surprise, surprise,” Jenni drawls.

The laughter comprises of only two voices.

Much later, when drunk-Alexia has forced water down her throat and, when that didn’t quite fix her wobbling vision and hazy bad ideas, two fingers, she stumbles into the bed she commenced this miserable day in. Still alone. Still fine.

Still tossing and turning as if she might replicate the feeling of your body beside hers.

Still talking to herself, because her thoughts don’t quiet even though she has no one to share them with.

When Jenni shouts at her from the next room (“SHUT UP, ALE!”), she accepts the prompt to embark on her next step to bring herself closer to sleep.

Alexia, who scoffed at deep-breathing during her recovery and despises the inertia of yoga, meditates.

And it doesn’t fucking work.

Perdona la hora

It’s the first text she has sent you in three weeks. Perhaps it is pathetic that she hasn’t even lasted a month without you.

You read the message instantly.

You don’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say past sorry.

The pain doesn’t get better. Alexia considers investing in pharmaceuticals — only some miracle drug could fix this.

You’re driving her wild and you’re not even here. No, you left. The absence is felt.

Your lingering presence is loathed.

Three dots appear as she continues to stare at the violation of post-break-up etiquette she couldn’t help but resign to.

Hola…

You must have spent a long time thinking about what to say. She’s comforted by the idea of you struggling just as much as she is. She is obviously more fine than you. So she’s winning. Even if she didn’t get a choice to participate in this competition.

Ibiza passes then. Almost in the blink of an eye.

On the final night, they get her drunk again and she calls you. “Try it with me again, even if it doesn’t last long.” She’s begging. She never does that.

“Alexia,” you warn. Your voice is hoarse. She must be upsetting you.

“I don’t want to look for you in other people,” she confesses.

You close your eyes.

“Please don’t say that.”

“But I mean it.”

“She means it,” chimes in an equally-hammered Leila.

You wince at how your ex’s friends are mocking her. You wince again when you catch yourself pitying your ex.

“Venga, vale.” Oh, that sounds like Jenni, although her tone is unusually responsible. “Say sorry for the late call, Ale.” You catch a murmured apology down the line.

“It’s fine, Jenni.”

Jenni chuckles, but this is separate from anything else you’ve been subjected to for the past twenty minutes.

“Have a nice evening,” she replies.

You’re free after that. Lying alone in your bedroom, boxes packed up and stacked in the corner. The ceiling is dull and grainy as your eyes slowly lose focus. You will yourself to sleep but the aching in your chest won’t let you float away.

In a month’s time, you will no longer feel this way. You’ll be somewhere else — somewhere free and new and exciting. You’ll meet someone else.

You solidify the mantra in your mind. You march around Barcelona with the promise silently playing on repeat. Your final days in the city are carried out with the enthusiasm of a dilapidated merry-go-round.

“You’re a pessimist,” is what your best-friend labels you as she chains you to her on her overly extensive shopping trip. “Or a nihilist.”

“I just no longer give a fuck.”

Her lips press tightly together. Then she looks you up and down.

“Mhm.” It’s not a sound that a convinced person would make. “You know, you’re allowed to admit you’re sad.”

“I’m the one who wanted it,” you protest. You’re not sure why you are arguing.

“I mean…” She trails off and doesn’t finish her sentence. You glare.

You know what she wants to say.

“Go on.”

“No, no,” she insists with a smirk. Perhaps this is a trap.

“No. Say what you wanted to say.”

Your firmness makes her laugh. Ridiculed, you turn your back and bless a rack of linens with your attention instead. She can fuck off with her truths and assumptions and oddly perceptive advice.

“She’s angry,” says Alba at the dinner table, fingers rubbing the dents in the wood she herself had made as a child in this very house.

Alexia looks up from her plate. Her mother has been alert to this impending topic since they all sat down for dinner, but she delays her intervention, awaiting a response from her eldest child.

The women hear a loud gulp. “How do you know that?” It’s sharp. Cutting. Alexia’s investment is poorly veiled.

“I saw her the other day. With a woman.”

“What did she look like?”

Alba thinks for a moment, trying to recollect details that really were just meant to provoke. She probably should have expected an interrogation so that’s on her. When she remembers, she says, “brunette. Small. Pija, I don’t know.”

“Her friend.”

Alba raises an eyebrow at her sister’s firmness. “Anyway, yeah. I saw her with her friend or whatever. She looked bummed the fuck out. And kind of… bored.”

“Sad and bored?” Alexia could jump for joy at this very moment.

She’s so winning.

She doesn't need to invent a drug because maybe you’ll do it before her.

You performed some kind of witchcraft on her, she has concluded in recent days; you put a spell on her. Perhaps you had read about it. You were always reading.

You remind her of a dog who always runs away but goes straight home when it is finally set free.

She should resent it, but she feels mildly inclined to remind you what it feels like to be close to each other. Plus, she’s not sure anything else will blunt the knife piercing through her chest.

Perdona la hora

Her teeth sink into her lip as she sees her message go through.

Otra vez, she adds.

She imagines you must be more reluctant to read it now that you have no certainty regarding her alcohol intake.

Hola Alexia

Something like disappointment settles in her gut.

K quieres?

Alexia signed her way into this without reading the small print.

No sé — typed out hesitantly.

Three dots appear. It’s as if you can see her burning alive and are finding even more cans of fuel to douse her in.

Your response is a statement. A deflection.

You called me

Alexia could make a thousand excuses. She settles on ‘I was drunk’. She cannot bring herself to explain the truth.

You begged, you text back, instantly. You said “try it with me again”

This could be an addiction. She’s never satisfied. She never will be — not when it comes to you.

Well I still mean it.

You take a long time to even start typing. She rolls over onto her side, tucking her elbows into her stomach and bringing her phone closer, as if examining it with care will provide solutions for unspoken problems.

You left without saying goodbye: Alexia wants to say that, to send the message she has already typed out. It’s hardly productive but it means a lot to her. If you knew the impact your stupid fucking breakup text has had on her life this last month… well, maybe you’d at least grant her the mercy of no longer replying to her.

Alexia doesn’t even know why the hell she’s texting you right now in the first place.

You type. You stop. You restart.

You bite your lip and kick at your duvet, suddenly far too hot under the covers.

You sigh and you delete a word.

You type some more.

You take a deep breath.

Then come here.

You both know that she will.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso #woso x reader #randombush3

265 notes · View notes

scarluna · 3 months ago

Text

Thoughts of You - I am able to breathe again.

Y/N starts work as a client agent at a big corporate company. There, she meets Jungkook, a man who confuses the hell out of her.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, fuckboy jungkook, insecurities, smoking

Chapter available: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Chapters: 5 / 5

Chapter Warnings: mature language, a little sexual tension

A/N: OKAY. After all of your sweet comments I decided to get closure for myself so I talked with the dude. And here is the OFFICIAL ENDING of TOY. Enjoy. x

The next morning, Y/N walked into the office with her walls firmly back in place.

Headphones in.

Eyes forward.

No stops at the break room. No casual glances around to see where he might be.

She took her seat like a shadow—silent, unbothered, unreachable.

Jungkook arrived not long after. She felt him before she saw him, like some shift in the atmosphere. But she kept her eyes glued to her screen, even as he dropped into the seat next to her.

“Hey,” he said, nudging his chair closer. “You good?”

“Fine,” she replied. One word. No glance.

He paused. Looked at her. Waited.

She didn’t offer more.

He tapped his pen restlessly, shifting in his seat. “You’re being weird.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

After a beat, he leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. “I swear, I can’t tell when you’re in the mood to talk or when you’re gonna burn the building down.”

She let out a dry chuckle—humorless, sharp. “Maybe I’m just crazy.”

That made him freeze.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. But she didn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze stayed locked on her screen, fingers poised above her keyboard, body tense like a trap ready to spring.

She didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t need to.

The sentence hung between them, heavier than it had any right to be. Maybe I’m just crazy. What she really meant: maybe I’m too much. Maybe I’m not worth the effort. Maybe you confirmed every worst thought I’ve had about myself.

Jungkook sat back slowly, and for the first time, he didn’t have a clever comeback. Didn’t try to fill the silence.

He just sat there.

And then—by lunchtime, he was gone.

No messages. No comments. No smoke break.

Just… gone.

The same the next day.

No Jungkook.

No teasing. No tension. No emotional whiplash.

And surprisingly?

The quiet was nice.

Y/N didn’t realize how loud his presence had become until it disappeared. How much of her brain he occupied. How much effort it took to pretend she wasn’t affected every time he cracked a joke or let his eyes linger too long.

Without him, everything felt lighter. Like the office had taken a breath. Like she could finally breathe.

She didn’t miss the way the others looked around, noticing the absence too. But no one asked. No one said anything.

And neither did she.

Because for those two days, peace felt better than possibility.

Jungkook returned to the office two days later, the usual buzz returning with him.

Y/N didn’t react when he walked in.

She was already seated, eyes on her monitor, her expression unreadable. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her palms again—a quiet tell only those who really knew her would catch.

Not that he noticed.

Or maybe he did. But if so, he didn’t show it.

The others greeted him casually as he dropped his bag onto his desk and slouched back into his chair, the image of nonchalance. His hair was a little messy, dark circles slightly more prominent than usual.

“Yo,” Taehyun called as he passed by, “Where the hell you been, man?”

Mina glanced over too, grinning. “Yeah, we thought you quit or died or something.”

Jungkook snorted. “Nah. Just the hospital.”

Their expressions shifted—half curious, half concerned.

“What, you sick?” Taehyun asked, pausing beside his chair.

Jungkook shook his head, pulling out his water bottle and twisting the cap. “Nah. Went to donate blood. A friend’s relative needed it.”

“Oh,” Mina blinked. “Damn. That’s actually… really nice of you.”

He shrugged. “Not that deep.”

The moment the word hospital left his mouth, Y/N stood up.

Not out of concern.

Not out of interest.

Just—timing.

Perfect, careless timing.

She grabbed her lanyard off the desk with a single flick of her fingers, slung it around her neck, and headed straight for the exit, not sparing Jungkook so much as a glance.

Didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t even flinch at the word donate.

Mina noticed.

So did Jungkook.

Especially Jungkook.

She walked right past him—deliberately, calmly—and met up with the usual group already headed outside for their smoke break. Taehyun tossed her a lighter, and she lit up with the ease of someone trying to feel less. Not more.

Behind her, she could feel the ghost of Jungkook’s eyes on her back.

But she didn’t look.

Not once.

She leaned against the railing, let the wind hit her face, and dragged in her first breath of smoke like it was medicine.

And maybe it was.

Because for once, she didn’t feel like being polite.

She didn’t feel like softening the edge.

Let him sit there.

Let him feel the space he left behind.

Let him wonder what changed.

Because for once, Y/N wasn’t interested in making it easier for someone who had no idea what it took for her to even show up every day.

Let the silence answer for her.

The office clock dragged its hands through the late afternoon lull, the fluorescent lights humming overhead like they were bored of everyone beneath them.

Y/N didn’t wait for anyone this time.

No group chat.

No eye contact across desks.

No word to Mina.

She simply stood, grabbed her badge, slipped her phone into her back pocket, and headed for the door like smoke was the only thing tethering her to gravity.

She didn’t notice Jungkook shift in his seat until she was already halfway to the hallway.

“Y/N,” he called softly, almost like a question. “You going for a smoke?”

She paused—not long, just a breath—and nodded once without turning around. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

He was on his feet, trailing behind her without being asked.

She didn’t stop him.

But she didn’t wait for him either.

The door to the back lot creaked open, spilling the heavy air of late afternoon into their lungs as they stepped outside. The asphalt was still warm under their shoes, the sun dipping lower behind the row of parked cars.

As she reached for her lighter, he patted his pockets.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Left my cigarettes in the car.”

Y/N didn’t sigh. Didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t offer some teasing comment like she might’ve weeks ago.

She simply pulled a cigarette from her pack, held it out between her fingers without looking at him.

He took it carefully, their fingers brushing for half a second—barely a touch, but she still felt it.

They lit up in silence.

Not the comfortable kind they used to share.

This was the kind that wrapped around their ankles and weighed them down. Heavy, almost intentional.

Jungkook leaned against the railing beside her, blowing smoke out through his nose. He didn’t look at her, but she felt his eyes flick toward her now and then.

She didn’t give him anything.

No words. No glances.

She just smoked like it was all she needed, like he wasn’t even there.

After a few minutes, he finally pushed off the railing, stubbing the cigarette out with the toe of his boot.

“I’m heading to the store,” he said, tone low and neutral, like he wasn’t sure what reaction he expected—or wanted.

Y/N gave him a single nod, barely lifting her eyes. “Cool.”

Then, without another word, she flicked her own cigarette away and turned to walk back inside.

Didn’t wait for him.

Didn’t ask where he was going.

Didn’t look back.

It was just past noon when Mina plopped into the empty seat next to Y/N, a knowing look already tugging at her lips.

Y/N didn’t even glance up. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it,” Y/N muttered, scrolling half-heartedly through her inbox.

Across from them, another colleague—Ines, from marketing—leaned over the partition with a sly grin. “We’re just saying… you haven’t been your usual ‘please don’t perceive me’ self lately.”

“Yeah,” Mina chimed in. “You’ve been extra pretty. Extra sharp. But also, like… a little murder-y.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s just my resting face.”

Ines laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with a certain someone who’s suddenly quiet around you. Who accepted a cigarette from you like it was a gift from the gods. Who looked like he wanted to say a thousand things and said none.”

Mina leaned in dramatically. “Jungkook.”

Y/N sighed, finally setting her mouse down. “Can you both not?”

Mina tilted her head. “Y/N… be honest. Are you still thinking about what he said? The ‘eat you up’ moment? The girlfriend jokes? The dancing? The constant hovering? Because like, if I were you, I’d be spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Y/N lied.

Ines folded her arms. “So ask him. Ask if it was just work flirting or if it meant something.”

Y/N stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Are you serious? I’m supposed to walk up to him and go, ‘Hey, were you fake flirting with me, or were you secretly imagining marriage?’”

Mina snorted into her coffee. “You’re the one who’s not letting it go. You might as well find out.”

“I’m not asking him. My ego is already in shambles.”

Ines gave her a look. “Then don’t ask for your ego. Ask for your peace.”

That shut her up.

The silence lingered between the three of them until Mina nudged her arm gently. “Look… you don’t have to do anything right now. But if you find yourself alone with him—really alone—promise you’ll ask. Just once. Just to know.”

Y/N exhaled slowly.

She didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t want to.

But the worst part wasn’t the silence.

It was the wondering.

So she nodded—once, quietly. “If we’re alone… I’ll ask.”

A pact with herself. A line drawn.

No expectations.

Just answers.

And maybe, after that—

She could finally move on.

Y/N was mid-scroll, headphones in, pretending to be immersed in a true crime breakdown on YouTube while her inbox blinked with things she had no intention of answering.

Her body was relaxed. Mentally somewhere else entirely. Safe.

Until she wasn’t.

A shadow passed beside her desk, followed by a soft voice—familiar, low, and completely out of pocket.

“Wanna go for a smoke?”

She froze.

Her hand paused on the mouse.

Her spine straightened just slightly.

Her brain did the thing where it shut down completely, because—what?

Her eyes flicked upward and, sure enough, there he was.

Jeon Jungkook. Hoodie slightly wrinkled, tired eyes, tattoos peeking out under his sleeves, one hand resting casually on the back of her chair like this wasn’t the first real thing he’d said to her in days.

He met her gaze, expression unreadable. Casual. Like this was normal. Like the silence between them hadn’t stretched into something uncomfortably loud over the past week.

Y/N blinked.

He waited.

Slowly, she pulled out one earbud. “Now?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Unless you’ve got a meeting with HR.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again.

What the actual fuck.

Before she could think too hard about it, her body betrayed her and stood up.

She grabbed her badge and turned around, only to lock eyes with Mina and Ines across the room—both of whom were practically vibrating in their chairs, eyebrows wiggling like they were choreographed.

Y/N shot them a glare that promised violence, but they only grinned harder.

She followed Jungkook through the halls, out the side exit, past the back lot—and straight down the sidewalk, across the quiet street, toward the small park a few blocks from the office.

No one else followed.

It was just them.

They didn’t speak.

The wind brushed against them gently, the sun dipping behind soft clouds as they reached the bench tucked into a quiet corner of the park. It wasn’t far, but far enough to be… something else. Separate from the office. From everyone else.

They sat down, side by side but not touching.

Y/N pulled out her pack, handed him a cigarette wordlessly—like she always had.

He took it with a quiet “thanks.”

They lit up.

Inhale.

Silence.

Exhale.

Still silence.

But it wasn’t empty.

It never was with him.

Y/N glanced at him briefly, studying the way he leaned forward, elbows on knees, cigarette resting between his fingers like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He didn’t look at her.

Not yet.

But she knew it was coming.

And her heart was already beating too loud.

She had made a promise.

If they ended up alone—

She’d ask.

And here they were.

Alone.

The smoke curled lazily between them, hanging in the air like a barrier she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

Y/N sat stiffly, elbows on her thighs, cigarette burning slowly between her fingers. She didn't know how long they sat in silence—seconds, maybe minutes—but eventually, she spoke.

Her voice was softer than she expected. Careful. Like the words might break something.

“So… how’s the new relationship?”

She didn’t look at him when she asked. Just kept her gaze locked on the faint cracks in the pavement beneath their feet.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“It’s good,” he said, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Actually… it’s amazing.”

Y/N nodded once, slowly.

Jungkook continued, as if he hadn’t noticed the tightness in her shoulders. “It’s completely different than my last one. In a good way. No games. It’s just easy, y’know?”

She nodded again.

Still, nothing. No sting. No ache. No sharp edge where her heart should’ve been.

She expected to feel it. The jealousy. The smallness. The shame.

But she didn’t.

There was just a stillness in her chest. Like her body had gone quiet, holding its breath for something else entirely.

She turned her head slightly, letting the cigarette rest between her lips as she stared off toward the trees.

Her mind was chaos. Thoughts overlapping. Heart pounding—not from heartbreak, but from the pressure building behind her ribs.

She wasn’t hurt.

But she was stuck.

Caught between wanting to leave and needing to know.

She took a slow inhale, then out, grounding herself in the motion.

“Can I ask you something?”

Her voice trembled—barely—but he caught it.

Jungkook looked over at her, brows raised. “Yeah. Of course.”

Then, without waiting, he shifted closer—his side brushing hers as he sat properly on the bench, facing her now.

“Shoot.”

And just like that, the moment she’d been dreading was here.

The silence after his word felt louder than anything else.

Her throat tightened.

Her mouth opened—

Then closed again.

But she had promised herself.

So she took one more breath.

And prepared to finally ask.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, but her voice—when she finally spoke—was steady.

“Was all the flirting over the past month just because you were bored at work?” Her gaze stayed forward, not on him. “Like… was it just something to pass time because you had nothing better to do?”

She hesitated, then added, more quietly, “Or was there actually something more to it?”

There it was.

The question.

The damn thing that had been sitting at the back of her throat for weeks.

Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

She heard the soft drag of his cigarette, the slow exhale.

Then his voice, low and calm. Not defensive. Not apologetic.

Just honest.

“Nah. It’s just work flirting,” he said.

A pause.

“But I did it because I liked you more than anyone else here. Still do.”

Y/N finally turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his.

He looked at her the way he always did—relaxed, open, unreadable.

“I’m not out here flirting with everyone like that,” he added. “I ask you for smoke breaks. I mess with you. You’re the only person in this place I actually enjoy talking to.”

She blinked.

Jungkook took another drag, glancing off into the trees before continuing.

“But if I had deeper intentions…” he paused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’d have asked you out. Like, properly. Not just stood around bumming cigarettes and making dumb jokes.”

Y/N nodded slowly.

And surprisingly?

She didn’t feel the ache she had expected. No wave of embarrassment, no flush of rejection, no pit forming in her stomach.

Just relief.

A slow, steady exhale. Like something heavy had finally slipped off her back and landed far behind her.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Jungkook looked at her again, watching her carefully.

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “Some of the things you said stuck in my head.”

Another slow inhale. Another breath.

“My colleagues noticed it too,” she said, her voice softer now. “So I needed to ask. I needed to know what’s been going on.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression surprisingly gentle.

“I get it,” he said. “I’m glad you asked.”

They sat in silence again.

But this time—it wasn’t awkward. Or tense.

It was peaceful.

Y/N leaned back slightly, letting the smoke trail upward into the sky, her shoulders lighter than they’d felt in weeks.

She didn’t get the fairytale answer.

But she got the truth.

And for once, it was more than enough.

The cigarette burned halfway through between Jungkook’s fingers before he spoke again.

His voice was more careful now. A little softer. Less playful.

“I’ve noticed,” he said, eyes on the trail of smoke curling up into the sky, “that you’ve been different ever since I got a girlfriend.”

Y/N’s breath stilled for a second—but not from guilt. From the clarity of hearing it said out loud.

She didn’t deflect.

Didn’t deny.

She simply nodded, gaze steady on the bench in front of them.

“I have,” she said plainly. “Because I have respect for myself.”

Jungkook finally looked at her.

She met his eyes fully this time—no hesitation, no flinch, no softness diluted with doubt.

“I have morals,” she continued, voice calm but firm. “And I didn’t want to cross any lines. Even unintentionally. So I distanced myself.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves above them. Neither of them moved.

Jungkook let out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh. “That’s fair.”

He flicked the ash off his cigarette. “I’ve tried not to act the same either. Since getting into something serious.”

Y/N gave a small nod. “I noticed.”

There was no accusation in her voice. No passive anger. Just an understanding—subtle, sharp, necessary.

He looked at her again, more intently this time. “I didn’t want to disrespect her. Or you.”

She gave him a faint, dry smile. “Then it’s good we both stepped back.”

He didn’t disagree.

They sat in that mutual stillness—two people who had walked right up to a line they didn’t quite understand until they were forced to see it clearly.

Not in shame.

Not in regret.

But in quiet acceptance.

Jungkook stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette and leaned back on the bench, arms resting behind him as he stared up at the gray sky. “You’re a good person, Y/N.”

Y/N let her eyes wander ahead, unfocused. “I’m just trying to be one.”

“Still,” he murmured. “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too.”

Y/N reentered the office with a lighter step than before, as if a burden had finally been lifted from her shoulders. She found herself greeted by the usual mix of chatter and knowing glances from her coworkers. Mina and Ines exchanged a quick look as she passed by, a silent question hanging in the air.

At her desk, Taehyun leaned over with a curious smile. “So, what happened out there? You look… different.”

Y/N paused, then offered a small, genuine smile. “I talked it out with him.”

Her colleagues leaned in slightly, eager for any details of the shift that had clearly transformed her mood.

“I told him everything,” she continued softly, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as she settled back into her seat. “I said I needed to know if all this was just work flirting or if there was something more. He told me it was only work flirting—that he’d asked me out for smoke breaks because he liked me more than anyone here. And he made it clear that if he had deeper intentions, he’d have invited me on a proper date already.”

There was a brief silence among the group as they absorbed her words. Y/N’s voice took on a steadier tone, filled with a quiet relief. “I feel… lighter. Like I can finally breathe again.”

She paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face as if she sensed there was more he hadn’t said. “There’s this feeling, too—like maybe he hid something from me or didn’t tell me everything he felt. But honestly, at this point, I’m just glad to have the clarity. I’m ready to move on.”

Her coworkers nodded, the room filled with a mix of understanding and unspoken respect for her openness. Mina gave her an encouraging nod, and Taehyun added with a supportive grin, “Sounds like you did what you needed to do, Y/N. That relief? That’s priceless.”

With that, Y/N returned to her work, feeling steadier than she had in weeks. The conversations and teasing around the office now carried a different tone—a tone of acceptance and, more importantly, self-respect.

And as she settled at her desk, Y/N realized that sometimes, the hardest conversations reveal exactly what’s needed: a chance to let go, a breath of fresh air, and the courage to finally move on.

223 notes · View notes