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dirtytomatoedwrites · 6 months

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THE RESIGNATION

Summary: You can quit. It doesn't mean Rafe will let you.

Paring: CEO!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) Masturbation (w), Rough Sex, PIV, Creampie, Fluff, Romance with a dash of Angst. AgedUp!Rafe. Not Proof-Read. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Something a little shorter, lighter and sweet. Happy reading and much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

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*Buzzzzzzzzz*

“Yes.”

“Y/N is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Rafe watches in fascination as you shuffle in, your face taut and serious. Your eyes cast downward, clutching a file. As you tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, he realizes you're nervous. The tension, his silence, makes you even more anxious.

“Sit,” he instructs, motioning to the chair across his desk. Meanwhile, he keeps his gaze on his papers. He continues to read and leisurely sign forms. Yet, he can distinctly feel your eyes on him, both of you fully aware of the meeting's purpose.

For Rafe, the dynamics at play are exhilarating. After finishing his tasks, he lifts his eyes to find you focused on your file, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, his fingers drum lightly on the fine-crafted letter in front of him. The paper carries a soft hint of perfume. It smells like you.

There's a part of him that wishes to be cruel, to use biting words he's often used with others in his employ. Yet something about you prevents him. The game of power was always in his favor, but with you, the boundaries become ambiguous, shifting in unexpected ways. With you, it's always been personal.

“Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?” he asks. His tone is calm, yet probing. You seem taken aback, eyes widening as they search his face.

He decides to try another approach. “It's clear to me now,” he points to your letter of resignation. “You were unhappy at Cameron Enterprises. How long have you felt this way?”

Your surprise is palpable, and he watches you closely, enjoying the tapestry of emotions that flash across your face, each one more captivating than the last.

“Well?” he prods.

You shift, straightening your back. “I am grateful for my time at Cameron Enterprises. Truly I am. The team has been so kind to me, and I'll honestly cherish the friends I've made—”

“But?” he asks, cutting you off, eager to understand.

“But, I believe it's time for me to pursue other opportunities,” you admit, measuring your words. You slowly nod your head, as though you have thought this whole thing out, and now you are not only resolved with the thought but you truly believe it. It’s this sureness, this resolution, that truly makes Rafe react.

“I see,” Rafe says as he presses a button, making the office walls turn opaque. "So, you think you've outgrown us."

“No—”

"No?" he interrupts, rising from behind his desk and walking slowly toward you.

"No. I just- I feel it's time for me to try something... new.”

"Something new," he repeats, his gaze lowers to meet yours while you look up at him. His eyes scrutinize you carefully. “I respect that,” he nods, and as you avert your gaze, he gently hooks your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“No, really. I do. What's the point of life if not to grow, right? But let me be crystal clear: leaving here is not an option. So, here's what I'm willing to offer," his voice is as smooth as honey as his thumb strokes your jaw. "First, a five percent raise. But seeing as you’re already on one of the highest salaries here, I suspect that won't really sway you. You’ll also be given a new title.”

"Raf—"

"And to sweeten the deal," Rafe interrupts, "a vacation to any destination you want. You'll be whisked away on the company jet, stay at a five-star, luxury hotel—every need pampered and taken care of. I'll see to that, and we'll get to that, but here's the thing—" he whispers, his voice low and seductive.

"You embarrassed me today—ah, ah, I'm talking," he asserts, his eyes commanding yours into silence. "If it were anyone else, anyone else, no one would have noticed or given a flying fuck. But since it’s you, your little resignation created a lot of gossip. It made us look weak, hinted at instability, and in a Fortune 500 company, that's not going to work. Do you think the board cares about your need to ‘try something new'? Hm," his gaze is drawn to your mouth as you clamp it shut.

"So for those reasons, I'm going to punish you,”he says, while his thumb gently taps your chin. "But how to punish you...” he muses. “That’s the real question.”

Pulling away, he slides his hands into his pockets and, after taking a few steps back, leans against his desk.

"Rafe, you know I was just— I mean I wasn’t trying to—”

"Spare me, all right? I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. Not right now. What I want..." he said slowly as he tapped a finger to his chest "What I want, is for you to open your legs, yeah? That's what I want."

You're shocked — he gathers as much from the way you gulp, and Rafe can't help but let a smirk of self-satisfaction curl his lips.

"Don't look so surprised. You knew what working for me entailed when you agreed to it. Now, spread your legs. Let me see what I'm shelling out nearly half a mil for."

"Rafe, I… I" you murmur.

Crossing his arms, his gaze locks onto yours signalling the end of the discussion. Hesitantly, and with much caution, you eventually slide your legs apart, your skirt riding up ever so slightly.

"Wider," Rafe commands, "Lean back and open them wider."

Breathing heavily, you do as he asks. Leaning back against the chair, you spread your legs open fully, causing your skirt to ride up to your waist, revealing your panty-covered sex. The damp patch, dark against the bright red fabric teases him.

"Pull your panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are.” he whispers silkily.

You turn your head away shyly but eventually you hook a finger into the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your slick wet folds to his ravenous gaze.

Rafe smiles in approval.

"That's good." he purrs, "Now, touch yourself. That pussy looks like it needs a good fingering " his voice rumbles with authority as his gaze flickers from your face to your exposed weeping slit. You hesitate, breathing heavily while trying to form a protest.

"I… I'm not—"

"Do it," he interrupts firmly.

You hesitate for a few moments, but eventually obey by pushing a finger into your dripping sex. A moan escapes your lips when Rafe lets out a deep groan as encouragement. Your hesitation seems to disappear and you push another finger in.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Add another. I know you can handle it."

You nod slowly and introduce a third, while the middle finger of your other hand gently rub your clit. Sinking into the sensation you open your legs wider for more access, your fingers moving hard and fast.

Rafe groans in protest. “Go slow...This isn’t for you. It’s about what I want, and what I want is for you to tease yourself. You're not allowed to cum. Not yet. Not until I say.”

You whimper but follow his command. You slow your speed til it's teasing almost leisurely and Rafe soaks it all in. The jolts of pleasure that have you mewling, the way your chest rises and fall, breathless, desperate. The way you curl your fingers just enough to make you gasp. It's incredible to watch and as your hips begin to buck against your massaging fingers, Rafe finds himself looming over you, taking in the sight of your ecstasy-filled face and finger-stuffed pussy.

He leans in and kisses you. His tongue lashes yours, tasting your moans and desperation. He pulls away, eyes back on your wet centre, focused on your fingers moving in and out, accompanied by the sweet wet sounds it makes and your hips rising from the chair.

"Go on, make that pussy cum." he orders. In no time, your orgasm washes over you. He can see it build from your core as you shudder and your thighs shake, your breath hitches fighting to stave it off and then it radiates out from the depths of your soul in a moan of pure ecstasy.

Before you can catch your breath, Rafe pushes your hand away and laps at your essence with his tongue. His hands on the back of your knees, push your legs right to your chest, keeping it wide open as he tongue fucks you.

Eating you out was always an appetizer he savored, making sure you had cum at least twice from his efforts, but right now, with his blood boiling with anger and frustration, he's famished and desperate for the main course.

Urgently, he undoes his slacks and lifts your legs even higher, pinning your ankles above your head with one hand. Without giving you time to adjust, he smears his cock with your slick and plunges deep into your tight heat, pressing you into the chair with his body weight as he begins to pound you.

It's a painful position, and he's acutely aware of that. It's deep and aggressively forceful, the type of position that should be approached with care, or ease you gently into it. But right now, it's not about you. Right now he's too riled up to care and so he fucks you without remorse or restraint, reducing you to nothing more than a fuck toy- his fuck toy spurred on by the delicious moans that escape your parted lips.

Your hands cling to the armrests for dear life as you desperately try to maintain your balance. Rafe continues to slam his hips against the back of your thighs, taking pleasure in your inability to move while he plows you deep. You whimper, desperate to escape his grip, but it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he revels in your struggle, knowing that your lack of control will only intensify his orgasm and your own.

"You want to quit..." Rafe sneers. He watches you whimper and feels your pussy tighten like a vice, while simultaneously soaking the front of his slacks. It makes him feral and he redoubles his efforts, fucking you into the chair until it starts to scrape against the cherry-oak floor.

"You want to quit on me?" he strains, while he observes ecstasy wash over your face, your eyes roll back in a pleasure-filled awe. With one hand, he gently taps your cheek to keep you focused.

"You wanna quit on me? Huh?” And he leans in further, his cock repeatedly hits a spot so deep you’re shaking, babbling and barely coherent.

“You're not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," he grunts, "Now fucking cum. Fucking cum.” His ruthless demand pushes you higher until all inhibitions are obliterated. You scream out in surrender, bucking up onto his plundering cock while Rafe releases a guttural moan, filling you with ribbon after ribbon of thick cum.

Several minutes have passed when his movements gradually stops, signaling the ebbing of his energy. He's exhausted, his fervor having reached its climatic end. He pulls out, his balance wavering slightly until his back meets the glass desk behind him. A contented exhale escapes his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

There you are, looking thoroughly fucked out. Your legs are splayed open, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the aftermath of passion. His cum slowly leaks out of you and you wear it like a carnal badge of honor. Observing your state, he’s acutely aware that his own appearance mirrors yours—fucked out and messy. His clothes is in disarray, his cock is hanging out and physical exhaustion makes his body seek support against the table.

Despite the disheveled scene, a wave of affection swells within him, washing over any remnants of his earlier anger. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, attempting to control his breathing.

"You're lucky I love you," he manages to say, each word punctuated by his effort to recover. His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet softened by the rush of emotions. "No one else has this infuriating, intoxicating effect on me. You drive me to the brink and back," he adds, a playful seriousness lacing his tone as he licks his lips. "For that little stunt, I should fire you," he teases.

Your fingers glide through the cum dripping from your sex, and Rafe can't suppress a sense of pride. He always takes pride in the chaos he creates, especially when you revel in it.

"I've been trying to talk to you, but you've been so distracted lately, you haven't been listening" you sigh, as you try to catch your breath. "What else was I supposed to do to get your attention? Hand me some tissues, will you?"

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he digests your words, then reaches with a trembling hand for the tissue box on his desk. "When? When did you try to talk to me and I wasn't listening?" he asks. He takes a clump of tissues and hands them to you.

"This morning at breakfast, and last night during dinner. I barely started speaking before you turned the conversation back to contractors and deadlines and even when I gave you a solution, not just one Rafe but two- two concrete solutions you ignored me. It was like I wasn't even there. It's not the first time." you explain, accepting the tissues from him.

"I didn't realize—"

"You did," you interrupt, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on his to underline your statement. "Why do you think I kept singing the song about wanting to make some changes, wanting to try something new. I've been saying it for weeks on and off because this is clearly not working."

“I thought you were talking about remodeling the offices, not resigning from the company. It's a family business—how would it look if my wife quits?" His voice carries a hint of concern, not just for the optics but for the unspoken bond that this business represents between the two of you.

A soft sigh escapes you as you lock eyes with him, a delicate blend of frustration and affection. "Rafe, I don't want to walk away from this," you admit "But I need more than just a title and a desk. I need to feel heard, to be part of this with you, not just in name because I'm married to a Cameron. I want to be a part of the decisions and changes we dare to dream up together."

Rafe's eyes hold yours, a moment of realization dawning upon him. "I see you," he says quietly, the weight of his oversight apparent in his tone. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Do you really want to leave? Is that what you truly want?"

His question, earnest and laced with vulnerability, hangs between you, but you shake your head gently. "No, I don't want to leave, Rafe. I just want... more. More involvement, more acknowledgment, and yes, maybe even a little more attention. But leaving? No. This place, with all its madness, is where I belong."

He exhales, the relief evident in the way his shoulders drop slightly, the rigid line of worry softening around his eyes. "Thank fuck for that," he says with a hushed intensity. "Because I can't imagine doing any of this without you. But let's agree on no more 'resignation stunts' in the future, yeah? It's bad press and only makes for bad business—besides, I doubt my heart can take it."

You nod, agreeing, a mischievous glint in your eye as if to say you’ll find another effective way to get right under his skin, because in the end you always do. “Fine. But for the record, I do have some ideas for my office too."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and he pulled you into a messy, loving kiss. "We'll discuss it at home, Mrs. Cameron. For now, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with your dick hanging out."

With a shared laugh and a sweaty kiss, you both begin the task of putting the office—and yourselves—back together, the line between professional and personal wonderfully blurred.

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A/N - See guys I can do sweet 😈 I tried to keep the reveal until the end shhhh 🤭 Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please reblog as it supports writers. Until next time ❤️

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 month

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your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

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your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

-----

it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ooc sukuna #sukuna jjk

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elmhat · 5 months

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DSMP TUMBLR SIMULATOR

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

On vacation! Check out the fancy hotel :)

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

gufys please mass report this he's trxying to fucking dox me and also kill me pls guys

7 notes

❌ god Follow

I just finished writing my latest book! To thank everyone who stuck with me through this process, I'm giving away one copy to a random follower! All you have to do is reblog 😊

#bookblr #writeblr

2,963,086,652,755 notes

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

Anyone know where the boomerville residents went?

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

No one replied so I guess I own their house now

3 notes

🥇 dreamsno1traitor Follow

#I'm actually so sick of these mfs #no joke if I have to spend another day around these people I might kms #one more comment about how "evil" he is and I'm gonna snap #I can't believe I used to be friends with them? #they're so bloodthirsty for no reason #sorry just needed to vent #can't say any more than this or I'll blow my cover #neg

2 notes

🧁 the-girl-who-burned-your-tree Follow

New strawberry cake recipe! (Safe for pigs)

Try out this delicious dessert that all the family can enjoy!

Keep reading

#baking #recipes #I just wanted to make something that my friend can eat too #he has some rather unique dietary requirements

130 notes

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

"average person destroys 1 government a year" factoid actually just statistical error. average person destroys 0 governments per year. technoblade is an outlier and should not have been counted

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

this is so fuckign disrespectful to doomsday survivors take this down you egotesticle fkng prick

45,687 notes

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

@warden-of-the-vault How's idiotville idiot

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

Wait you can't reply cause you're in IDIOTVILLE

5 notes

🪶 philzaminecraft Follow

My good friend has entrusted me with looking after his lovely dogs, haha! 😂 Do any of you fine young people have advice for me as to how to take care of this many hungry hounds? 🤔 I look forward to hearing from you.

From Philza Minecraft.

P.S. Please also instruct me as to how to increase the number of messages I receive in response to my questions. This internet website is a tad confusing. I had enough bother attaching the photograph. 😂

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🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

woke up to the dash full of drama again. sigh

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

fucking Die

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

oh so you're the one sending all the anon hate

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

i don't send anon hate i'll hate to your fucking face bitch

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

please go out with me

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🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

🔥 murdered-yo-fave-pet Follow

But fr guys, as much as we're memeing around in the tags dream is actually out there and he's dangerous. If you see him call me or sam immediately. DON'T fight him. You'll /gen die.

6,210 notes

🐈 antthecatmaid Follow

won't be around for a while, going on vacation!

🐈 antthecatmaid Follow

fuck I'm back fuck fuck fuck

27 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

i'm too sad to commit terrorism like what's the fucking point anymore

6 notes

🧨 zombiepresident1 Follow

World's First NFT Burgers

(Ignore the poor photo quality, my good camera got confiscated by authorities)

"An explosion of the senses, and I don't just mean that time the place exploded!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"So much better than Quackity's horrible grimy SHIT FUCKING RESTAURANT" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#reviews are all from verified sources #don't look into it #someone blaze this I have no money

204 notes

✨ quirky-cake-duper-teleporter Follow

Genuinely fuck dream.

✨ quirky-cake-duper-teleporter Follow

Ignore this I wasn't in my right mind

16 notes

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

The Teletubby and the Pig

Fandom: Original Work Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Technoblade, Dream (me and my friend) Additional Tags: Pandora's Vault Prison, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Summary: idk man I'm bad at summaries, just something I wrote with my friend to pass the time (he was too embarrassed to post it)

284k words so far

-> Read here!

#I actually wrote this a while ago but I wasn't allowed to post it for legal reasons #don't worry though I'm planning to murder the legal reasons soon #writeblr #original fiction

35 notes

💍 im-from-the-future Follow

WARNING - PLEASE READ

My murderer showed up at my house today. Police refused to arrest him. I feel sick to my stomach, I don't know where he is or what he's doing, if he comes back I have no way to protect myself. Please stay vigilant and don't trust anyone you don't know.

🥕 catsncarrots Follow

i'm so sorry to hear that karl :( hey what's the new pfp?

💍 im-from-the-future Follow

No idea

43 notes

🥚 baddestboi-withahalo Follow

we all accepted the prison way too quickly. there's like no safety measures? are we forgetting someone DIED THERE? and i've literally seen the main cell myself and it's a mess. pretty sure there was some real blood on the walls too. idk just doesn't feel right

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

I'm tired of people reblogging posts like this without checking their sources. There are some obvious red flags here. For starters, op claims they've witnessed the main cell personally, but if you actually check the prison's rules, visits have been banned for several months now [x]. The prison is armed with state of the art security measures, including lava, barriers, and numerous manual searches, to name just a few [x]. Speaking as an authority on the prison myself [x], I can safely confirm that these security measures, as well as the prisoner, are in perfect condition. Don't be so quick to buy into conspiracy theories.

🥚 baddestboi-withahalo Follow

I LITERALLY WORK THERE????

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

Not anymore you don't.

972 notes

#long post #I wasted so much time on this and every second was worth it #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp #dashboard simulator #lore thoughts #dsmp dashboard simulators

827 notes · View notes

satoruhour · 6 months

Note

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

“cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

958 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 3 months

Text

misunderstandings w/ san

words - some

genre - fluff/angst with a dash of nsfw but not smut

warnings - horny!san, soft!san, sad!reader, misunderstandings, san in grey sweatpants, mentions of sex, no actual sex/sexual acts, reader speaks in riddles and expects san to understand

it’s no surprise to anyone that san likes to be cosy and comfy

we’ve all seen that fuzzy great sweater that he always wears

that thing looks like it would send me to sleep within seconds of putting it on, but i digress…

another item of clothing he keeps close to his heart is sweat pants, more specifically grey ones

he says they’re just comfy, but you know exactly why he wears them

they cling to his thighs so nicely and leave very little to the imagination

sometimes just seeing him in them is enough to drive you insane

it’s even worse if he takes a shower before putting them on, because 9 times out of 10, that man is not putting underwear on with them

a shirt is also optional… apparently san just doesn’t like the way they feel when his skin is damp

personally, you think san just does it because he knows it drives you crazy

in fact, there’s been more than a few times when you’ve texted san throughout your day at work about how much you miss him

and shown up at the end of the day with him on your couch, just like that; half naked with sopping wet hair

and whilst ‘i miss you’ usually is just code for ‘i’m horny’, sometimes it just means you’re having a bad day and want to hold him close for the rest of the day

either way, you don’t mind showing up to your house with a half naked san on your couch

you’re about to get the best dick of your life, or incredibly soft cuddles

it all depends on your response to his obvious advances, although sometimes he isn’t the best at taking hints

“you’re home,” he opens his arms the moment you walk through the door, as if asking for a hug

you’re more than happy to oblige, dumping your bag on the floor and letting your tired body collapse onto his

it had been a frustrating day to say the least

your coworker had been off so her work had been passed to you, despite the fact that no one person would be able to do all of that by themselves

still, the boss expected it whether you complained or not

saying you were drained was an understatement

as your body connects with san’s, he grunts, but catches you effortlessly

“fucking hell, babe,” he squeezes you gently as he holds you to his chest, “careful, yeah?”

you nod half heartedly into the damp skin of his neck

“you’re naked,” you deadpan, snuggling into his warmth a little

you know what it means, but you haven’t quite decided whether that’s what you want or not

maybe sex would take your mind off the day behind you

or maybe it would overstimulate you and send you spiralling… who’s to know!

“hardly,” he replies, “i have my sweatpants on…”

“and what are the chances of there being something underneath,” you wait for his response, but he stays silent which tells you everything you need to know

not that you need any confirmation; you can feel his hardening dick pressing against your thigh

you decide then and there that no, sex definitely would not be the best option

the thought alone of the ache that would follow is enough to make you decide that you certainly could not handle it right now

“it’s covered, is it not?” he finally says through pouted lips

you sit up fully and look at him with a fed-up expression, hoping he gets the message

you’d never been too good at saying no to people

something along the lines of not wanting to disappoint people

usually you just dropped hints and hoped for the best; san usually understood sooner or later

“it’s rock hard against my leg, san,” you scoff, “i don’t think your sweatpants are going to stop me from feeling that…”

he shrugs with a smirk

“that sounds like a you problem,” he says, which is actually factually incorrect, “maybe you should do something to sort it out…”

you can’t help but sigh at his inability to take any sort of hint

“or maybe, you can take yourself up to the bathroom and get rid of the problem yourself!”

it’s more obvious that the glare you gave him previously

still, the smirk remains as though you’re just teasing him

he shakes his head with a grin

“but you’re literally right here,” he whines, “and the bathroom is all the way upstairs…”

“i’m not in the mood to ache right now, sannie,” you once again, drop a hint that he, once again, completely disregards

in fact your statement makes him smile, clearly happy with what your statement implies about how good he fucks you usually

“i’ll be gentle?”

“san!” you scold, frustrated that your rock-headed boyfriend can’t seem to understand that whether or not he was rough was not the issue here

“i’m just saying,” he puts his hands up defensively

you look down at him with tired eyes, frustrated tears forming in the corners as you grow tired of throwing hint after hint at him

as much as you hated saying ‘no’ so bluntly, you settle on the fact that you might have to

“san,” you start, taking a deep sigh to calm your nerves, “i’m trying to tell you that i don’t want to have sex right now.”

you have to force yourself to look at him

even though you know that he’ll be more than fine with that fact, you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it

and when you look up at him, you can’t help not notice that his face falls a little

not that he’s upset at you not wanting sex, he’s just upset that he clearly misread the situation

and maybe he feels a little (a lot) guilty for pushing so hard when, now that he thinks back on it, you actually weren’t that interested

“oh, baby,” he mumbles softly as he moves his hands to rest against your thighs that sit either side of hips, “bad kind of ‘i miss you’, huh?”

you nod

“the bad kind,” you respond with a shrug, as if you’re trying to pass it off as nothing

but of course, gentleman san would never let that happen

because your emotions are never nothing

“you should’ve told me straight away,” he scolds gently, “or maybe i should’ve asked…” he frowns, “either way, if i’d have known i’d never have pushed so hard… you know that, right?”

you nod ever so slightly

of course you should’ve told him straight away, but again, saying no is hard for you and the ever present fear of disappointment hangs over your head like a rain cloud

and while you were positive that nothing you did could ever disappoint san, there was still something in the back of your brain that told you otherwise

“of course i know that, sannie,” you pout, “but you know me…”

“hm, i do know you,” he mutters as he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, “and i know how scary saying no is, but it’s just me.”

just san… it’s just san

you nod, understanding exactly what he means

there’s no external judgement, or any judgement at all for that matter, because it’s just san

and san doesn’t care about these things

san just wants to make you happy and if sex wouldn’t make you happy, then san would happy live with blue balls for the night

you nod again, more enthusiastic this time

“it’s just you,” you give him a small smile, which he returns without even a second passing

“there’s that pretty smile,” he coos before shifting his hands to your waist and tugging you gently until you’re lay flat against his chest once more

and you’re happy to just lie there in silence as san trails his fingers up and down your spine to soothe you

he’s not asked about your day yet, and he probably won’t for a while, content to sit in silence and love you for now

and you’re content too

very content

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #san fic #san oneshot #san fluff #san x reader #ateez angst #san smut #san angst

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earlgraytay · 2 years

Text

I keep seeing discourse on my dash about whether or not we should be teaching ~challenging~/emotionally rough books in elementary and middle school, and I think there's a very important point that all of this discourse is eliding.

What counts as "too rough/traumatizing" heavily depends on the kid.

Two kids in the same class, from the same background, at the same developmental and reading level, might have wildly different reactions to a book. To take an example that's less likely to generate insufferable discourse than anything dealing with ~marginalization~:

Say you have two kids in the same class. One kid is a sensitive, sweet soul who loves dogs more than anything in the world. The other kid just lost their dog, is still grieving, and needs some catharsis.

Your class is supposed to read Old Yeller, or some other kids' book about The Death Of A Dog.

For the first kid, that book is likely to mess them up a little. It might seem like brutality for the sake of brutality. They might not fully understand the concept of death yet, or they may not be ready to grapple with the idea that dogs can die. It might be something they need to read, even if it'd mess them up- but it might also just hurt without any real benefit.

For the second kid... whether they're ready to read that book would heavily depend on how they're grieving and whether they're ready to think about a dog dying. It might trigger them and make them feel worse. But it might actually be helpful for them and make them feel less alone. Other kids have had to deal with their dogs dying and have lived through it. It might give them emotional tools they need to get through this.

But unless you know these kids really well and have the chance to tailor how you teach the book to them? You're likely to screw both of them up without any real benefit.

If they have to fill out fifty million worksheets about What The Dog Dying Means In Old Yeller, they're going to have to think about something they're not ready to think about over and over again. They're not likely to learn whatever you're trying to teach them about death or empathy or tragedy- they're just going to remember that English class was about depressing books about dogs dying and remember how much it hurt to get through. And they're going to be put off reading anything you might read in English class, because it's just going to hurt, right?

The one-size-fits-all model of education most schools are being forced to adopt means that we can't mold what kids read around what they need and are ready to hear; we have to make every kid read the same thing, at the same pace, with the same worksheets.

You can't decide, 'hey, this kid might not be ready for this particular book, here's a book that hits some of the same thematic notes but is less graphic'.

You can't take the time to make sure that a student who's reading a book that might be rough for them is okay, give them time to decompress and debrief, or let them process what they're having to deal with. You can't let them take a break from the book after they hit a point that is graphic or triggering. You can't let them sit with their feelings about it.

You can't take the time to make sure that the marginalized students in the class are okay after reading a book about oppression that affected people like them, or take the time to make sure that their non-marginalized classmates who said boneheaded things about the book know why what they said wasn't okay without publically yelling at them.

Hell, you can't even choose books based around what your students would be interested in and want to read. You have to make a lesson plan to teach like 50 students; you don't have time to pick things based around their individual likes and dislikes.

Nope. It's just on to the next book, the next worksheet, the next test.

Teachers are forced to take on classes that are way too big for any one person to manage, teach emotionally hefty books without giving kids time to process what they've learnt, and teach to tests instead of giving kids time to empathize and understand.

The problem is not specific books. The problem is not privileged people's fragility. The problem is not even individual teachers. The problem is a systemic problem with how American schools teach literature.

Until we fix the system? Yeah, plenty of kids are gonna get fucked up from reading Lord of the Flies or Where the Red Fern Grows when they're not ready to tackle it. Because their teachers do not have the time or spoons to gauge whether they're ready, and do not have the luxury of letting their students deal with things at their own pace.

#general malarkey #tumblr malarkey #my fucking industry #or well something adjacent to it #kidlit #teaching #education #i keep getting mad at posts like this because EVERYONE IS WRONG #LITCHRALLY EVERYONE

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mistydeyes · 6 months

Note

hello! can you please do headcanons of 141 boys with nepo baby!reader?

ahh thank you sm for requesting! this was so creative and UGH i totally wish in another life i could be a nepo baby with all of life's luxuries

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summary: When the 141 met you, you had done an amazing job keeping your repo!baby status under wraps. What happens when your starstrucked boyfriend finally finds out?

pairing: Task Force 141 x fem!nepo baby!reader

warnings: swearing

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

John Price

Surprised but happy you aren't one of those stuck up ones (*cough* *cough* Kendall Jenner *cough* cough*)

"Hey love, these came in for you today," your boyfriend, John, said as he heaved in a large bouquet of flowers with an ornate envelope attached

You groaned loudly as you opened the envelope and the room filled with the aroma of fresh red roses

You skimmed over the letter before tossing it back onto your kitchen island

"Something the matter?" he comforted as he wrapped his arms around you

"They just want me to walk for Victoria Secret," you said as if it was an inconsequential request, "something about how my mum's wings and outfit would fit me perfectly."

At this, you felt the palpable silence and turned to see the bewildered look on John's face

"What I'm getting from this is that you are a model fit for their show and also have a mother who used to be a model for them?" he almost whispered and you nodded in response

He whistled quietly as he pulled you back into his arms

"I knew you were gorgeous but it's nice to hear that others think the same," he joked and you lightly smacked at his chest

"My mum always wanted me to get into modeling but after my last show as a teenager, I decided civilian life was more for me"

He nodded as he put aside the letter and put the flowers in a more respectable place

"Well I am glad you chose that," he replied, "don't think I would be able to meet a world class model."

You cocked an eyebrow and laughed slightly at his response

"You're telling me! I'm lucky for a shot at the respectable military captain who looks absolutely dashing in a bonnie hat"

With that, he gave you a soft kiss and you giggled as his facial hairs tickled you slightly

"Although, if I get sent any brand deals for shaving cream and beard care, I know the perfect person to give it to"

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Overall he is the most excited to find this fun fact out about you

He realizes when you meet with your sister at a local coffee shop

You ran up to her with Johnny closely following behind you and you hugged her excitedly

"Maeve! It is so good to see you again," you smiled, "this is my boyfriend, Johnny"

Your boyfriend did a double take as your sister shook his hand and sat down at the table

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked quietly and you and your sister shared a look before laughing

"Hmm what project are you working on now?" you asked her as Johnny just watched the interaction

"That's a secret for now," she said mysteriously, "I will tell you we're premiering the show on Max"

Once she said that, it was almost as if a lightbulb went off in his head

"Oh shite," he said a bit too loudly, "you're Maeve! You did that show on Netflix!"

She nodded as she sipped her matcha latte casually

"Wait so if that's you," he said before turning to you, "does this mean you're parents are those famous spy movie directors?"

You nodded as he finally understood but before you could reply, your sister beat you too it

"She was always the studious older sister, chose to go to university here instead of pursuing an acting career," you sister proudly replied as you leaned into Johnny's chest

"To be fair, dad's films were always too ambiguous for me," you joked, "he always loved those off plot twists."

You laughed at the memory and both Johnny and Maeve joined in

After that, you had a pleasant lunch but you definitely needed a tea with lemon and honey after answering all of Johnny's questions

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You were not a nepo baby by conventional means

No, you didn't have parents who were famous actors or singers

You were the worst kind of nepo baby for Kyle

You were the daughter of a General in the British Army

Maybe he should've been clued in by your surprising knowledge of military history and traditions

In fact he did look at you a bit skeptically when you adjusted his ribbons of decorations/medals

"You're a natural at this," he said as he kissed your forehead. "My dad and the internet taught me all I needed to know," you smiled back.

Kyle never did get to ask you who your father was until you were at the Army ball

When he saw one of the decorated Generals making his way to you, he could feel a lump in his throat

Kyle immediately saluted the man and almost lost it when he saw him hug you and spin your around

"Pleasure seeing you here, dad," you beamed at him, "didn't know you could make it to this one!"

As Kyle was putting the pieces together, the small talk ended and your father turned to him

"Sergeant Garrick-" "Yes, sir, that's me" he said, fumbling over his words and causing you to laugh loudly

"I've heard much about you and the missions," your father spoke highly as you looked over anxiously, "just make sure you come back home to my daughter."

With that, he gave Kyle a firm handshake and hugged you before returning back to mingle amongst the other officers and soldiers

Kyle stood there for a moment looking at his hand

"Did that just happen?" "Congratulations Kyle, you survived meeting my father!"

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He does not put the pieces together until something forces him to realize who you actually are (more like whose daughter you are)

"Keep your head down, I think someone's following us," Simon warned you as he lead you down another aisle in the grocer's

For the past hour, there had been a man with a camera had been following you and trying to snap pictures

Simon had been more than observant and was running through scenarios to lose this man without any unnecessary violence

"Oh, they're probably trying to figure out where my parents are staying while they're in town," you said nonchalantly, "probably trying to get the best pictures before the premiere."

At this Simon, pulled you aside and look at you bewildered

"Are they in any danger?" he said as he pulled out his phone to make an urgent call

You giggled a bit before taking his phone from his hand and smiling

"No, no, they're probably just preparing to be harassed by the paparazzi. Nothing they're not used to," you said as you typed a few things into his phone's search browser

"Here, you might have heard of them before from all those superhero action movies," you continued, giving Simon back the phone so he could look at the Wiki page

"So you're saying that you didn't think this was important information to tell me when we started dating?" he asked as he looked back down at you

You rolled your eyes before pulling him along to continue you're shopping

"I honestly didn't think it was that important, Simon," you mumbled, "besides would it affect your decision to date me."

He shook his head as he tried to understand the whole situation and how you were the daughter of two very famous and successful actors

"For such a smart military man, you are a bit dense sometimes," you joked before turning and blocking the titular shot from the camera man with a cereal box

"Not this time!" you yelled triumphantly before Simon took the opportunity to plant a kiss on your cheek

"That's why I dated you."

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devondespresso · 9 months

Text

FINALLY

after NINE. HOURS. (NOT including meals and sleep) ITS FUCKING DONE.

A complete floorplan of the entire Harrington house. Including too much thought about random, throw-away lines from characters and squint-to-see-it background glimpses inside.

plently of stuff in the actual house is altered or straight up ignored in favor of following the fiction logic and because I Wanted To. A lot of this is motivated by my headcanons for the Harringtons and how I'm writing them in my fic, but I'm also certainly not an architect so it's by no means perfect. It is, however, unreasonably canon compliant in the few bits we do see.

Thought Process (for context):

the darker shaded floor areas are lower than the rest, some bits like the garages having stairs and some areas like the sun and dining rooms list being like a step lower. Windows are marked with dashes along the outside, sliding doors are two thin lines slightly overlapping, stairs change color as they diverge from the level we're looking at, and furniture is eyeballed so don't look to closely a the scale.

not all closets are labeled, just the ones i figured could be confusing. Steve and the guest rooms have closets i promise.

the laundry room and pantry are not the same size but by the time i noticed i was exhausted. so pretend they're both more reasonably sized.

i don't know what the floorplan symbol for garage door is and then i forgot to look so the headlights point to where the doors are and you can see them clearly in photos so yeah.

The general layout is based on the idea that the Harringtons are or were into hosting dinner parties and business meetings in their home, especially as a young rich couple looking for respect in their circles (Mr. Harrington taking on his father's business and reinforcing that power, Mrs. Harrington climbing her own social ladder and building an image).

So the house is laid out with hosting areas towards the right with the office big and near the dining room because it's more than just a workplace, it represents him as a businessman. In canon the entryway and living room both have very high ceilings and no second-floor above them, so I'd imagine they're also aware of how the top floor looks from below, hence the fancy double/french doors to the master bedroom which is in plain view from below. Steve's room and the guest room are's nearly as visible.

As for the kitchen and sun/pool rooms, I see them more as secondary hosting areas that aren't used as the main location most of the time and are more this background setting to these events that still feel rich. The kitchen is massive and mostly for dinner-parties and Mrs. Harrington's social events.

The kitchen and main bathroom's placement is based on a line Steve said to Barb giving her directions to the bathroom: "down past the kitchen, to the left". With the massive living room on the left and wanting to keep the dining and office close by, i interpreted the "to the left" part being like "find the kitchen, then turn left". And with the rest of the area being open-concept, the bathroom would be the only normal door over there and easy to find. it's a bit of a stretch with just that line, but it makes sense to me with the rest of the context for the layout.

the basement is similar to this, though not as openly displayed so I imagine its for slightly closer friends. Theres a garage door down there so I figured Mr. Harrington might have a cool car he shows off, like he's letting people in on a personal detail about himself. There's also a guest room down there (the only one still considered 100% for guests, more on that later) for those people.

beside the basement garage, there was originally one main garage that holds two cars, obvious Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's cars. I imagine they bought the house before having kids, so a third one wasn't on the mind but after having Steve they added the front one (either turning the carport into a closed garage or they never had a carport and added a whole new addition, up to you)

Both garages lead to the same part of the house, and that area is the only one besides the water heater room that is purely function over effect. It still looks good like the rest of the house but it's not made to be fancy because guests would rarely need to be over there if at all and it's not noteworthy from other parts of the house.

In my headcanon, Steve's room used to be a guest room, staying his room from nursery to present with Mrs. Harrington renovating every now and then. Its one of those places in the house that doesn't have to look perfect for all to see, so she gets creative and has fun with it.

The upstairs guest room is also unofficially Mrs. Harrington's room, based on a line where Tommy mentions a fireplace in "his mom's room" instead of "guest room" or "parent's room" or "master bedroom". I belatedly realized this could be a solidarity thing with Steve hating his dad and calling the master bedroom his mom's room, but that was after 9 hours of this and im not changing it but there you go. In this version, I imagine she leaves the master some nights because her marriage with Mr. Harrington is failing (cheating and all, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with someone who cheated either)

the master bathroom was an executive decision, just looking at the house in canon and not having enough space in my first attempts, i decided the triangle roof part above the dining and office could fit a master bathroom.

Feel free to use or reference this in your own fics! Feel free to block out my furniture or walls and make your own version. If you share my image please credit with an @ mention!! (again, 9 hours) (thank you fhalsfhd)

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months

Text

quick lil masterlist just so i don’t lose track of my writing let’s goo :3

✩ = personal fave!!

satoru gojo

you are somebody that i want to keep ✩ wc; 6.7k desc; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

call my name and i’ll come running wc; 8.7k desc; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table wc; 4.9k desc; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

the things you do for love wc; 7.0k desc; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

i can’t close my eyes alone wc; 4.2k desc; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

how deep is your devotion? ✩ wc; 6.6k desc; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs wc; 4.6k desc; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever wc; 10.8k desc; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

we can dip if you’re ready wc; 7.4k desc; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

you’re an angel, i’m a dog (yan!gojo !!) wc; 4.3k desc; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

oh my destiny, how far you have sprung now (not an x reader + jjk 236 spoilers !!) wc; 5.3k desc; satoru gojo goes north.

unnamed drabble wc; 2.4k (melancholic beach fluff w teen toru <33)

come rest your bones next to me ✩ (stsg/reader) wc; 4.6k desc; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

dear spring, stay forever (sashisu/reader) wc; 3.8k desc; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

suguru geto

where you lead me, i’ll follow ✩ wc; 10.0k desc; opening up is hard, even under the comfort of a starry sky, seated next to your childhood friend. fortunately, suguru knows you like the back of his hand.

i've always loved the way you eat ✩ wc; 4.9k desc; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

i dream, now, of a normal life with you ✩ wc; 9.4k desc; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

i crumble completely when you cry wc; 6.2k desc; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

if i fell through the floor i would keep falling wc; 7.5k desc; geto knocks at your front door one morning ten years after leaving everything he knew behind, fully expecting to be met with a middle finger or a hand to the throat. when you invite him in, instead, he can’t help but feel somewhat perplexed.

there was no place in nature we could meet ✩ wc; 3.3k desc; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — and also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.

the paint doesn’t move the way the light reflects ✩ wc; 21.1k desc; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

i love you, i love you (kill me in the morning) wc; 10.0k desc; everyone has a weakness. some are harder to get rid of. (or, alternatively; suguru geto befriends a non-sorcerer as a child.)

unnamed drabble wc; 1.8k (silly spring fluff <33)

unnamed drabble wc; 2.7k (comfy fluff w sleepy needy sugu <33)

unnamed drabble wc; 1.5k (slightly bittersweet fluff w cult leader geto <33)

unnamed drabble wc; 2.2k (angsty kiss w cult leader geto <33)

come rest your bones next to me ✩ (stsg/reader) wc; 4.6k desc; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

dear spring, stay forever (sashisu/reader) wc; 3.8k desc; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

shoko ieiri

you drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other ✩ wc; 4.2k desc; shoko makes you a morning cup of coffee. turns out she’s not very good at that, but it’s the thought that counts!

in the dream i don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap (jjk spoilers!!) wc; 4.5k desc; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to — but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko.

dear spring, stay forever (sashisu/reader) wc; 3.8k desc; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

others

the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) (megumi/reader) wc; 4.6k desc; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

go for it! (yuuta/reader) wc; 7.4k desc; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

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waldau · 2 months

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i don't know anyone who writes wonwoo as perfect as you! you manage to capture his personality so well🥺could i please request a friends to lovers thing for wonu? you've been friends for YEARS and you've had your moments and hidden glances but this one night you're just sitting out and feeling the winter breeze together. he can feel you staring and asks why you're doing that..while you contemplate whether to give in and just confess. you're so overwhelmed with emotions for him but you're also so terrified to tell him bcos you're scared to change the dynamics your relationship has so far.

thank you so much for saying that about my writing, anon :') took me entirely too long but i had a sudden burst of inspiration after seeing the latest gam3 bo1 wonwoo with long hair 😵‍💫 hope you like this! title taken from the english version of crush by seventeen.

hearts in parallel — jeon wonwoo | 2,730 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

wonwoo's standing outside your car in the parking lot of your office. part of you is convinced you're just imagining things, because he's supposed to be in japan. touring. doing idol things. having fun.

every morning you look forward to the pictures he's made a habit of sending whenever he's on tour, whether they're what he had for breakfast, or what a sleeping dokyeom looked like with a moustache drawn on his face. his only motive for doing that has been to convince you to let him take you on a vacation whenever you're free, because he says there's always something you'd enjoy wherever he goes.

it's sweet. it really is. even if you have to keep reminding him that you have your usual 9-5 that's so different from his schedules.

but it is wonwoo, when you focus on the way he's standing against the hood of your car, hands in his pockets as he looks at what you assume is the view of the sun setting in the distance. crazy how he'd sent a picture of it to you just today morning from another country.

suddenly, you fell woefully out-dressed. it's your usual work attire, but wonwoo's got his airport look on, complete with a dashing coat that you've never seen before. maybe he has it on only for today.

"surprise?" wonwoo asks sheepishly, when he catches you staring at him.

you blink once more, just in case. "wonwoo?" you ask, a little uncertain. "aren't you supposed to..."

"tour ended last night," he explains, pushing himself to stand properly. "i texted you afterwards."

you think back to the messages you exchanged last night, but they're a haze at best. all you can currently think of is your calendar you've been crossing things off of for a better part of the day.

any other time, you'd be extremely happy to see wonwoo, but today you don't feel like you can match his energy. "sorry," you murmur, rubbing your face. maybe if you rub it hard enough he'll disappear and you can catch up with him when you're a bit more presentable.

"hey, no," he says, catching your wrist as you pull your hands away. "you look perfectly fine. did i catch you at a wrong time?"

you realize you just said your last sentence out loud. "just tired," you say, proud of yourself at how even your voice is despite the fact that your hand is in his. "i'm glad you're here, though."

wonwoo lets go of your hand. "then is it fine if i drive you home?"

you look at him. he looks pretty serious, and you snort. "did you seriously come here just to drive me home?"

wonwoo nods. "straight from the airport. dropped my stuff home, then took a cab and came here."

no wonder he's still got the airport look on.

"you're a weird man, jeon wonwoo," you say, searching for your keys in your pocket.

"that's probably why we're friends," he deadpans, catching the keys you toss him.

"you should be sleeping," you say, chucking your bag on the backseat. "or resting at home. not being my chauffeur."

"maybe i wanted to be your chauffeur because i'm not sleepy," wonwoo replies, slipping on his seatbelt, waiting for you to do the same before starting your car. "it's been a while since we've hung out together."

that's true, you think. ever since you got this new job, your hours have been filled with work, and even though you're not overly swamped, you've been seeing your friends a bit less frequently than you would have liked. wonwoo included. and wonwoo's also had less time to spend with you, given how the band's been planning more foreign tours in the past year.

so you're glad you're spending time with him, even if you're not at your best.

"who said you don't look good?" wonwoo asks.

you bite your tongue when you realize you've spoken out your thoughts again — it's just a testament to how tired you are, with no filter between your thoughts and words. you shake your head, but wonwoo's not having any of it.

"i came here straight off my flight and i look absolutely dishevelled. you're lucky i don't mind you seeing me like this."

"your so-called dishevelled airport look is just as good as me at my best, so don't even start, okay?"

"yah," wonwoo says, laughing. "i don't appreciate you slandering yourself like that."

"fine, what do you appreciate?"

"you spending some time with me and not worrying about anything else."

blunt, as always. you appreciate it, even if it makes your heart jump a little. and it's not that you're worrying over anything: it's just the sudden nature of wonwoo's appearance that has you a little confused. but you're not complaining.

"by the way," wonwoo says, when you finally pull out onto the main road after leaving all the traffic behind, "i got you something."

"again? wonwoo, i told you i don't need souvenirs from every—"

"this was for your birthday, sweetheart," he says, pausing to pull something out of the pocket of his coat. "i still have your stuff from japan waiting to be unpacked."

"you're a menace, won," you say, hands hesitating to accept the slim box sitting on the dashboard. "i told you i didn't want anything."

"and i told you it'd be a crime if i didn't get you anything. maybe i would've listened to you if you didn't get that insanely expensive camera for me."

you glance at him. "that's—"

"—a completely valid argument," he retorts, reaching for the slim box and putting it in your lap. "i've been waiting to see your reaction ever since i got it."

shaking your head, you make a show of opening it. one thing about wonwoo is that he somehow always knows what to gift others. you could tell him you didn't want anything, and then he'd give you something you didn't even know you wanted.

case in point: there's a dainty silver chain sitting in the box, with the pendant looking very familiar. you take a closer look at it and realize—

"you didn't."

wonwoo has his mischievous grin on. "of course i did."

it's a customized engraving of your cat on the circular coin of metal, a perfect replica down to the little discoloured patch of fur on your cat's face.

you'd complained to wonwoo, once, drunkenly, about this really cute online jewellery store that sold customized necklaces. you'd never been able to find it again despite going through your search history and searching the web extensively.

now that it's sitting in your hands, you can't help but wonder how much time he must have spent tracking it down, finding the perfect picture for the engraving.

"i don't know how to thank you," you say honestly, looking at wonwoo. he still has the smile on his face, looking straight ahead.

"just wear it forever, and you're good."

"oh, emotionally manipulating me? is that how it's going to be?" you ask, tracing the chain with your finger.

"i don't think it's manipulation if it's your cat."

you can't argue with that. you snap the box shut and put it in the pocket of your jeans. "you shouldn't have, won," you say perfunctorily.

wonwoo doesn't respond, simply choosing to switch on the radio.

for once, you're not driving, and you get the chance to appreciate how beautiful the city looks when it's nearing night.

"you hungry?" wonwoo asks, when the car stops at a red light.

you shake your head. "not for a few more hours. you?"

"nope," wonwoo says, flexing his fingers on the wheel. "but tonight's a full moon night, so i was thinking we could go to the riverside and just hang out near the pier? if you're not too tired?"

you think about it. you get to hang out with wonwoo in the moonlight, which will definitely be a sight to behold. the way he's been living rent-free in your mind for a while now is embarrassing, to say the least.

"i don't mind."

you sneak glances at him when he's answers a call from dino asking him if he's free to hang out tomorrow, when he's excited to hear one of his own songs on the radio. he's cute, and the feeling's eating you up from the inside every single time you're with him.

he just looks so...boyfriend. he's let his hair grow out, and black really is his colour. not to mention his glasses which might just be your undoing.

wonwoo parks at a spot not far from the pier.

you get out of the car and immediately get hit by a gust of cool air, and you're really glad wonwoo decided to come pick you up today, because there's no way you would've come here by yourself.

the walkway around the river seems nicer than the last time you were here, bigger and better with more lights and somehow, lesser people. it's exactly what you need right now.

you fall in step alongside wonwoo, comfortably silent as you make your way from the car park, the relative silence amplifying the sound of insects chirping and people chattering around you.

you don't look down for a second, and suddenly there's a tiny pebble that gets stuck in your shoe and trips you up. you brace yourself for a slightly hard impact, but the next thing you know is that wonwoo's arm is around your waist, pulling you into himself.

"careful," he chides softly, rubbing your back for a moment before letting go. "are you okay?"

you nod mechanically.

"let's switch sides. the light's better here."

it's these little things that wonwoo does, that make you fall for him even more. what started off as a little crush is now a hopeless, helpless twinge in your heart that multiplies whenever you so much as look at him. no matter how much you've gotten better at controlling your feelings around him, you can't help but stare at how good he looks tonight, the moon highlighting his face, its silver beams running through his black hair.

you've really, really missed this. just hanging out with him. and maybe you miss the time before you realized your feelings were so earth-consumingly deep that it began clouding every interaction the two of you have had.

"do you have the box with you?" wonwoo asks, all of a sudden.

you question his words for a second, then remember. "yeah," you say, patting at the slim box sitting in the pocket of your jeans.

"let me put it on for you?"

what should have been a calm night out with wonwoo by the riverside has now ended up into you becoming a mess of nerves, your skin burning where his fingertips touch you, fastening the clasp into place. you can't see how it looks on you right now, but wonwoo already has a solution.

"stand here," he says, directing you to a particularly bright lamppost. "you need to see how good it looks on you."

you try protesting, but wonwoo brushes away your concerns. "let me just take a picture. just one."

it's never just one picture with wonwoo, and you can't stop him when he has his mind set on something. you give in and stand under the light and try to muster up a real smile for the camera. you succeed because it's wonwoo standing behind the camera, pulling a funny face that makes you laugh.

he shows you the photos once he's done taking them, and you're not looking at the camera in a single one. he always makes you look better than you do, somehow. you return the favour, taking pictures of him posing in the same spot.

"these are good," wonwoo remarks, scrolling through the photos. "i'm glad you got the moon, too."

you nod before you say something embarrassing like you're the moon, though. you watch as wonwoo takes some more pictures of the sky, and the life around the riverside. the restaurants and shops light up the view for you but you can't help but just look at wonwoo. he looks so serene and in his environment that you can't help but wonder if having wonwoo as your boyfriend would entail dates like this on a regular basis.

"you're staring," is all he says, after two full minutes of silence.

you hum and slowly turn your gaze away from him, focusing on the trees in the distance, trying to play it off casually. rookie error.

"is everything okay?" he asks, pocketing his phone and moving a bit closer to you. "want to go home?"

you shake your head. "you?"

"no, i'm fine."

and then his hand is covering yours.

you try your best not to freak out, but under his hand, your hand is gripping the railing so tightly that you're sure your knuckles are white.

"sorry i missed your birthday," wonwoo says, leaning in close enough that he's towering over you. it's the perfect height to k—

"it's not your fault," you say, licking your lips. "you had work. and you even called me when you were free."

"still. it doesn't make up for me not being here."

"i don't mind," you say honestly, your other hand gripping the railing for strength you don't currently possess. "you're here now."

wonwoo hums, seemingly dissatisfied. your hand's genuinely burning under his, and you resist the urge to check if it's on fire.

"well, for what it's worth," wonwoo says, turning to face you, "i hope you had a good day, and i hope i'm there for your birthday next year. like a good friend."

"you are a good friend, won," you say quietly. "the best."

you wonder if you should just give in and tell him how you feel. given you know how mature he is, you doubt he's going to shun you the way you're afraid he will, but part of you doesn't want your dynamic to change. he's so easy to talk to, and he knows so much about you, and you're afraid of having to find it all over again in another person. maybe it's for the best to let this moment pass.

"you are too, sweetheart." his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, and something in you snaps.

"would you still consider me the best if i told you i liked you?"

wonwoo blinks. in the wake of his silence you can once again hear the vehicles on the road behind you, the sounds of people around you, and maybe even your heart if you shut your eyes.

"you know," he says after a while, his grip on your hand still in place, "i've been trying to give you a chance to say that for the past few months."

your brain plays a comically loud record scratch sound. you look up at him, but he's smiling.

"what."

"i...was hoping there would be a small chance you liked me, and then jeonghan let it out one night when we were out drinking. but i couldn't make the first move because i was scared."

"you were scared? of?"

wonwoo takes his hand back and rubs his neck sheepishly. "i didn't know if he was telling me the truth or making things up. you know jeonghan."

"...yeah," you say, brain still trying to get back on track. "so right now i have one more person on my hitlist."

"whoa, what? i just...implied i liked you!"

"and i just said— wait. what?"

wonwoo laughs. "do you want to be on the same page as me?"

you nod slowly, still processing things. still not believing your luck.

"here's what we'll do, then," wonwoo says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "i'm going to drive you home tonight. then we can take jeonghan off your hitlist and send him some more alcohol, just as a thanks."

you wouldn't even have imagined this a few hours ago. you trail your fingers along the railing, reaching out to hold wonwoo's hand again. he meets your fingers with ease. "and what do i get in return?"

"you get to call me your boyfriend. and kiss me, if you like." wonwoo's leaning over you again. it's the perfect height to kiss you.

and he does end up kissing you, this time.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee

#just had to get this out of my drafts #literally NO one like him btw #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo fluff #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #waldau writes #req

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writingoddess1125 · 8 months

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I am your Biggest Fan~ Pt. 2

WARNINGS: NON-Con, $mut, Face-Fuck, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Dom!Buggy, Unprotected sex, DEAD-DOVE, Tsundare Buggy

Dirty Nasty $mut is below. Be warned ⚠️

I may have went overboard with the length- Also my first time writing $mut! Please tell me how I did and what you'd like to see next!

Buggy the Clown x GN Reader

Part 1: Biggest Fan Pt. 1

Buggy grinned as he stared down at (Y/N) keeping barely any space between the two of them as he bit up and down their neck. Listening to the mild hisses in pain and whimpers of fear- It was too sexy for him and made him want more.

"Captian!" A loud voice sounded making he growl and turn to see Cabaji. Holding his blades with some blood smeared on his face and costume.

"What do you want!?" Buggy Hissed in irritation.

"Sir, We have almost finished with the village. The Marines are sure to be informed" Ah right- this was a small village it wouldn't haven't taken long to pillage the place.

Buggy opened his mouth to speak but ended up getting a hard hit to his mouth as (Y/N) Slipped under his arms and tried to run. Buggy grabbing them by their hair with lightning fast reflexes yanking them back towards him- ignoring their cry for pain. Buggy growled at this as he glared down at (Y/N) before sighing-

"We set sail then, Get a move on!

He yelled at his first mate who nodded and dashed away to echo orders. Buggy gave a low chuckle at the performer, gripping their hair harder.

"Ill let you get that one for free since youre so damn cute Doll~ But looks like we are gonna have to rush our little act back to the Red Top~!"

He said cheerfully, her personality like a rubber ball constantly changing as he harshly flung them to the floor. Watching them trying to scramble for a quick second before he placed his boot on their back to pin them before looking around to for something to restrain them with. His eyes landing on the satin ribbons from the show. Snatching them quickly.

"Oh don't you love the irony~"

He grinned as he overpowered them with ease and tied the satin ribbons tightly around their hands and ankles.

"Let me go! YOU CANT DONT THIS YOU DIRTY PIR- MMHPH!"

They squealed as he shoved one of their lace fabrics into their mouth. Smirking at the sight and fluffing himself as a job well done. Quickly at the sound of the fire he grabbed the performer and tossed them over his shoulder, making sure to give their exposed ass a nice hard smack. Which earned him a angry squeal, before he took off.

Running out of the blood soaked bar and to the streets- It looked like what sidewalks in hell must. Blood, broken glass, fire and bodies- bodies of those who wouldn't be able to handle the long road of the show biz or audience left like animals on the street. (Y/N) screams muffled through the lace gag as they witnessed the carnage. Buggy laughing maniacally as he ran through those streets, sliding in the blood comically like this was another one of his performances. Seeing his crew rip the jewelry from the necks of people before either killing them or tightening harsh shackles to them.

Buggy skipped down the street till he reached his ship, Watching the new group of audience members being herded in like cattle to their final resting spots their seats. (Y/N) at this point sobbing as they were hauled away from the horror down to the Captian's room and tossed roughly on the large bed.

"Whoo! Just what I needed to get my Mojo back in seemed- Really got a full house this time!~"

He laughed, Taking off his hat and kicking his bloody boots off. Looking to (Y/N) and their pathetic form on his bed, shaking and with tears running down their cheeks

"Awww~ Baby No, No crying. I wanted to run that mascara a different way... tsk.. So messy"

The Captian grumbled, Grabbing his own little makeup bag and a hanky. He smiled down at them as he crawled towards them on the bed, Sitting before them making sure they were pinned with his legs as he chuckled at the sight of them under him. 'So cute'

He hummed as he wiped their tears away before opening the makeup bag.

"Now if you keep crying, I'm gonna have to keep doing your makeup all over again! And that's really gonna piss me off- So lets stop thay crying~"

Buggy said the last part darkly, (Y/N) staring up at Jim with pure terror as he smirked at the sight but nodded shakily. Sniffling through the lace gag as they tried to stop the tears from flowing.

"Good~ Very good sweetheart"

Carefully he reapplied the mascara and touched up the eyeshadow with what he owned which wasn't much. He pulled the lace gag from their lips and held their cheeks tightly with one hand and a firm grip

"Now stay still for this~"

He hummed, pulling out his favorite red and painted their lips perfectly. A wide grin playing as he saw his finished work, Placing another love bite to his newest toys neck but this time sinking deeper then before making (Y/N) cry out in pain as he broke skin. Pulling back to lick the blood from his teeth as he saw the mark.

"P-Please let me go- I don-"

He grabbed their face again (Y/N) flinching from his touch as he reached forward to fix their hair so they looked perfect.

"I-I don't want this- Please let me go- I'm begging"

Buggy almost rolled his eyes- if it wasn't for how adorable they were he would have slit their throat for how pathetic they sounded.

"Listen, Just so we are clear~ I am letting you live as MY plaything it's either this or I slit your throat and throw you overboard and I reeaalllyyy like you so I'd rather not waste such a pretty face"

He said with a smirk, watching the gears in the performers face as they realized the situation they were in. Giggling at the sight of realizing they didn't really have a choice, which was perfect. Reaching down to pull at the ankle restraints, tossing one peice of the satin ribbons to the side. However keeping the wrist one.

"Now nod if you understand-"

(Y/N) left their stomach sink- This was it... they either be this manic clowns play toy or end up like the poor villagers- in those shackles or worse.. They nodded shakily, Trying to hold back the want of breaking into sobs. Buggy clapped his hand happily and smiled brightly, those watercolor eyes swimming with pure joy at them understanding and in his mind agreeing- He kisses their cheek at this like a mock lovers and ran his hands down their form with a excited glee.

"You're perfect, I knew you were from the moment I laid eyes on you- So pretty and talented. And best of all you haven't even stared at my nose! I hate it when people do that, yet you never did... My name is Buggy.. Captian Buggy. I wanna hear you say it-"

He said happily, locking eyes with them again with his twisted smile. A unnatural yet beautiful smile on his lips as he stared at them.

"B-Buggy.. Captian Buggy"

They whispered back which earned another kiss to the cheek. His eyes racking their form as they sat there, one pasty on their chest, the remains of their costume with the added satin ribbons. He couldn't help but get aroused by their appearance again, chuckling darkly as he stared at them. Without saying a word he grabbed them roughly by the shoulders and pulled them off the bed, Setting them on their knees as he sat infront of.

(Y/N) Looked up at him with wide eyes, noticing the large tenting in his pants as he sat infront of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted.. Buggy chuckled as he admired (Y/N) for a moment longer before undoing his pants- Cackling as his as his cock sprung out of his pants like a spring.

"Pop Goes the Weasal~!"

Buggy cock like the rest of him was large and unruly, the head a deep pink with a base of deep blue curls. (Y/N) looked up at Buggy again, seeing him smirking at their expression of seeing this part of him.

"Don't be shy now~"

(Y/N) nodded softly, giving a small tug on the restraints for a second of hope however there was no give so that was that- Leaning forward they parted their lips and took Buggy fully into their mouth.

Their nose brushing against the unkempt blue curls as they carefully ran their tongue over the organ. Buggy grumbling out gentle moans as he stared down at them, his pupils blown up with desire as he watched them. Laying kitten licks down his cock and coming back up to gently suck on the tip of his cock, While it felt delightful Buggy was greedy and of course- Wanted more~

Grabbing their hair harshly and smiling as he slammed them down fully on his dick, feeling them squeak and gag in shock. Setting his own pace as he roughly forced their head to bob at unnatural speeds, Moaning out roughly as he did so. His hips starting to thrust into (Y/N) mouth, enjoying the sound of the mild gagging and noises escaping (Y/N).

He looked down and saw with joy the beautiful mess he had created- (Y/N) face was red with tears, messy mascara running down their cheeks and their hair a tangled mess in his gloved hands- But it was their mouth. Oh those dirty lips wrapped around his cock staining it red with lipstick that damn near made his cum right then and there.

Yanking them off his dick he watched them struggle to catch their breath, a delicate mix of his precum laying on their tongue and mix. While (Y/N) looked up at him with those watery eyes that made him burn. In his eyes they looked like a masterpiece.

"Fuck~ I don't think I can last long with you looking like that~ Guess we gotta rush the performance Baby!~"

He cackled as he quickly pulled them up to their feet by their hair smiling at the sob that broke through them. Quickly he pushed bent them over the mattress, Smirking as he made sure to tighten the satin wrist restraints and smiled.

(Y/N) panted hard, they felt their face pressed into the plush bedding of the mattress and their eyes widened as the peices started to fall into place. Glancing back as they saw Buggy undoing his shirt fully and Tossing it to the side, As well as taking off the bandana that held his hair up. Letting it fall lose down his back with a relaxed sigh before meeting the gaze of (Y/N) again with a crooked smile.

Like the survival instincts kicked back in they scrambled against the bed trying to squirm away and kicked their legs wildly. Buggy cackled and presses his lower half against their ass essentially pinning them- Using his legs to trap their own against the wooden bed frame.

"N-NO! Wait-t!"

They sobbed out but Buggy was quick in grabbing their hair again and yanking their head back.

"Now Now Now let's not make a fuss!~ I do think we've already crossed the line of no return"

He said with a laugh, using his free hand to grab their ass and pulled to give himself a nice view an access. Forgetting he hadn't removed the thong from them yet- however no matter!~ he used his thumb to move the fabric aside and grinned, 'So smart!' Ignoring the squirming from the performer begging and trying to escape he spit at the open hole before him with a grin before positioning himself.

"Good enough~"

Purring as he started to inch his way in. (Y/N) choked back a cry as they left him inch his way in, He was too large- Unfairly so! It felt like they were being split in half. That toe curling pain that borders on pleasure shot through their body as air seemed to evade their lungs.

"That's it... Fuck"

Buggy growled out from above them, Grunting as he slammed the last of himself into them having grown inpatient to wait anymore. His hands left their hair, instead positioning themselves on their hips, feeling the dig of his gloved hands into the soft bruised flesh. With barely any time to fully adjust he started to move-

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he started to speed up the time of his thrust, (Y/N) felt hot like liquid fire was being drawed from their core from the forced pleasure pulling our rugged breathless moans as if they had been made for that sole purpose. A broken chores of moans and groans leaving their bruised lips at Buggys ruthless pace, Buggy moaned out loudly as he felt them tightening around him his hips starting to shudder.

(Y/N) babbling out incoherent moans and whimpers at the harshness of the thrust and the feeling of a orgasm so close to breaking through them.

"F-Fuck Fuck!"

He roared out, Slamming himself harder into them with a thundering speed. Pressing his chest against their back as he panted in their ear, his blue locks edged with sweat sticking to his forehead and fanning around (Y/N) as they screamed out moans- fresh tears running down their cheeks staining the mattress below as a forced orgasm ripped through their form- their body quaking from the force of the orgasm that shot through their body- Buggy grunting loudly as he slammed himself into them fully and came.

Buggy panted hard afterwards, Releasing their bruised hip and pushing how blue locks from his face. A series of panted curses leaving his lips as he pulled out of (Y/N) marveling at the damage he had done. Seeing them limp and barely functioning he scooped them up and placed them fully on the bed, Spreading their ass again to marvel at his claim.

(Y/N) laid there panting, The ache between their legs making it impossible to get comforble especially with Buggy's rough fingers rubbing against their abused hole. The world started to fade to black from the exhaustion from the day but Buggy's voice echoed around them with his twisted chuckle.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's show (Y/N)~"

Tag List-

@honey-eyed-munson

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #one peice #buggy one piece #gn reader #dead dove fic

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

Text

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you.

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day.

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that.

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open.

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.)

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?”

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to.

God, that man was a dick.

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle.

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive.

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van.

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up.

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him.

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep?

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers.

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads.

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable.

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath.

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him?

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck.

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him.

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars.

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good.

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were.

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.”

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth.

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.”

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors.

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.”

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you.

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually.

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns.

Nope. Not a chance.

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned.

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning.

—

It doesn’t.

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day.

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together.

God, he sort of hated you.

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice.

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression.

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it.

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip.

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them.

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him.

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John.

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you.

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.”

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset.

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you.

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?”

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.”

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin.

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him.

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable.

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store.

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural.

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear.

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk.

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?”

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?”

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here.

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.”

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace.

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.”

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.”

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.”

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point.

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.”

Trainer?

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with.

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say.

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it.

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back.

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle.

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?”

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye.

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice.

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.”

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole.

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two.

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could.

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance.

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.”

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest?

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed.

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him.

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together.

God, Eddie wishes he hated you.

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #coffee shop blues #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #barista!eddie munson #this is what i do with my free time before and after work #and on my breaks lol #makes the grind more bearable #we needed some fluff #can i come out of jail now?

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