#because i received a really tiny final piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojorgeous · 3 months

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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poemsforchan · 1 month

Text

DO IT LIKE THAT

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you live a cliché with your coworker and you just happened to have a crush on him. luckily he seems to feel the same.

requested: by anon -> Is it possible to get a coworker! Chan smut?where he and the reader have to share a bed and he’s really nervous because he likes her. He’s definitely a sub for her and asks her to choke him because it’s one of his fantasies.

warnings: NSFW, oral (male receiving), choking but nothing too serious, chan is a tiny bit submissive but not much, afab reader but no use of female pronouns

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You are stressed.

Stress is a feeling you are used to and is very much present in your day to day life but you don’t know the last time you felt it to this intensity.

The company you worked at had asked you and another employee to go to a meeting a few cities away. Driving back would be too tiring so you were tasked with getting two hotel rooms for the night, something you had to do multiple times in the past. You assured Chris, your coworker, that everything would be taken care of. You scheduled the entirety of the trip from the second you stepped out of your apartment to the moment you got back the day after. Everything seemed fine.

It wasn't.

After a long drive - in which Chris refused to let you switch places and drive for a bit so he could rest - and a boring meeting, you finally reach the hotel; just to find out you only had booked one room. Apparently, your sleep-deprived self forgot to change the room numbers from one to two when booking on the website and you had been so busy that you didn't stop once to confirm if everything was okay before the trip. Because of some concert happening in town, there weren't available rooms and you were presented with a choice: you either suck it up and share a bed with your attractive coworker or you deal with a long car ride back, meaning you would get home by dawn. Objectively, you should choose the second option. You are not working tomorrow so you could simply sleep all day. Going home would prevent having the awkward “do you want me to sleep on the floor?” discussion and it would most definitely keep your feelings in check. You are not a high school girl that needs an excuse to get close with her crush. Absolutely not.

“Well, I don’t mind sharing for a night.” Chan says, that big, stupid, pretty smile displaying his teeth and the perfect dimples. “Unless you don't feel comfortable, which is absolutely fine. I can just drive back and send someone to pick you up tomorrow?”

Maybe you do need an excuse to be near your crush. “I couldn't do that to you. We can just share a room.”

So, together, you make your way to the room. Like a good cliché, there was only one bed in the room but it was big enough to let you sleep without needing to be pressed against Chan’s body. It bummed you out a little. Now there wasn't an excuse to feel his warmth, maybe have your legs touch while trying to fall asleep, his face so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath…

You sigh, maybe a bit too loud since it has Chris turning to look at you. “Everything ok?” he asks but you can only nod as you drop your backpack on the bed and question every life decision you made that led you to this moment. You open your backpack to get your pajamas and almost whine when you remember that you packed the ugliest pieces you got. You were just being dramatic, of course. Your pajamas were simply a pair of old shorts (it had been kind of hot the past couple of days and you didn’t want to risk getting too warm because of pants) and an even older t-shirt with a band logo that was mostly faded. ‘Normal pajamas’, you tell yourself, but you just lost the opportunity to seduce your very handsome coworker with a sexy set.

“So unprofessional, shut up.” you murmur to yourself.

“Did you say something?”

Your head snaps in his direction and you laugh a bit awkwardly. “I said I was gonna change in the bathroom.” You say, lying through your teeth, as you gather the things you need in your arms and speed walk to the bathroom. You feel like you can breathe again when you lock the bathroom door and look at yourself in the mirror. A shower is everything you need right now and you can only hope you come out of it with a clearer mind and one less crush.

You remove your clothes and take a very cold shower so your mind can focus on your shivering figure rather than your coworker’s extremely hot body. It doesn't work. You leave the tub shaking and still thinking about Chris’ arms around you. You brush your teeth thinking about his body. Unfortunately, you can’t really come up with a plan B before you’re walking out the door. Fortunately, you’re glad you didn’t waste more time thinking of a plan B because your mind goes blank as soon as your eyes focus on Chris sitting on the bed. He’s looking at his phone, still wearing his suit and obviously waiting for you to be done so he can shower. You feel like screaming at the sight of his shirt unbuttoned almost all the way, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair messy from running his fingers through it.

At the sound of your steps, Chris looks up from his phone. You notice the way his eyes travel up your legs a bit too slowly until they settle on your face. You wished there was more noise outside because you’re not sure if Chan can hear your heavy breathing or your loud thoughts. You walk to the bed, trying not to stare too much at the man sitting next to your backpack. Carefully, you put your dirty clothes inside a plastic bag before shoving it inside the backpack. Chan still hasn't moved from his place and you can feel his intense stare. Once again, you can’t help but think this is unprofessional. Ok sure - there wasn't anything forbidding a hookup with your coworker. Your contract didn't specify anything about relationships of any kind but you still viewed it as improper.

You look again at Chris and his eyes are now on yours. You watch as his tongue licks his lips and think you don't mind being improper when the object of your dirty thoughts looks this good.

You move until you’re standing in front of him. Chris looks up at you with hooded eyes and shiny lips and something tells you he wants this as much as you.

“See something you like?” you say to the man, his legs spreading to accommodate you in between them.

“Definitely.” He replies, his ears already getting a bit red. You take off your shirt, basking in the attention Chan is giving you and your naked breasts. You slowly fall to your knees, looking up at the man through your eyelashes. This was most definitely a bad idea but how were you going to stop when Chris is looking down at you with those eyes? “I’ve been imagining you like this for so long.” He breathes out, his voice trembling a bit.

“Oh?” You finish unbuttoning his shirt. “You’ve been thinking about me on my knees? You’re sounding like a perv Channie.” You tease.

“N-no, I didn't mean it like that.” He stutters. With his help, you pull his pants and boxers down to his knees so you eye the dick standing tall and proud against his stomach. “I just… think about you.”

“Yeah? I think about you a lot too.” You admit, laying your head on his thigh as you look at him. “You always walk around the office with those tight shirts and pretty smiles. Makes me so weak.” You confess, holding the base of his cock with your hand. Chan hisses at the contact and his hand goes to your head, automatically pushing you closer.

You slightly part your lips to give an open-mouth kiss on the red-ish tip. You look up at Chris when your mouth fits his cock inside and he curses before throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. Moving your head up and down, you watch as the man above you crumbles under your touch. He curses and squeezes between his fingers the fabric underneath him. Your free hand sneaks past your shorts to touch yourself. Chris pushes your head down further when you whine around his dick as you insert a finger inside you. You gag around him and your coworker seems to like it by the way his hips start moving to fuck your face. Tears fill your waterline but Chris isn't even looking at you to see the damage, too focused on the sensations your mouth gives him.

His dick twitches inside your mouth and he immediately stops. Chan looks at you, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. His lips are red, probably from biting it to keep his moans to himself. He looks good - too good for your own good, to be honest. You remove your hand from your shorts and his hand leaves your hair to settle on your cheek, a silent request for you to get up. Your knees hurt but you don't mind it. Chris moves to sit up against the headboard and you take off your remaining clothes before sitting on his thighs. His hands find a place on your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin as he now looks up at you with those intense eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. You simply nod, leaning down to meet him halfway. His lips are soft and he tastes just like the mint he offered you after dinner. His kisses are slow and so sweet - you might actually fall in love.

“Do you have a condom?” You murmur against his lips.

“My wallet.” He replies. You get up to search for his wallet and, after following his instructions, you grab the condom. Chris had laid further down, his head now placed on the soft pillows. You go back to sitting on his thighs, opening the package before rolling the condom down his length.

“Are you sure?” You question. Chan nods as he says a small ‘yes’ and it’s enough for you to lead his tip to your entrance before sinking down on it slowly. “I need a minute…”

Chris is understanding. He stays still even if his dick is twitching like crazy inside you. He doesn't move even if you’re squeezing him like crazy. He waits for your signal before he’s moving his hips to meet yours. You place your hands on his chest for support and Chris is so focused on the way you move that he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you. You bounce on his lap, head thrown back while you moan so sweetly, caring only about your pleasure. Seeing you like that is enough for Chris though. You look down at him, hands squeezing the flesh of his chest and arms as your moans grow a bit louder, needier. “I th-ink I’m gonna cum.” Chan manages to say.

You stop your movements immediately. “You can’t cum until I do.” Maybe it’s the authoritative voice you used (the same one you use when you’re ordering around people at the company that always has his pants tightening) or the hand that slips to his throat and squeezes just a tiny bit to make your point. Chan doesn't know, perhaps it was a mix of both. What he does know is that it has him spilling inside the condom with a strangled moan and a gasp. “You have got to be kidding me.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know why that happened!” Chan starts rambling, saying everything that comes to mind without even thinking. You roll your eyes, get up and pull out his condom to throw away. You thank a higher entity that he had another one in his wallet or it would be a shame that your night ended like this. “I mean I’ve been thinking about- Well not with you obviously! Ok maybe with you, god I’m such a pervert and…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You interrupt his rambling. “It’s hot really.” You murmur under your breath. “Do you want me to choke you Channie?”

Chan looks like he’s about to cry, the tips of his ears a vivid red. “Yeah? Only if you’re ok with it.”

You go back to bed and repeat the same process you did a few minutes ago, except you’re now holding a softer cock. Chris’ eyes widen and he’s about to ask for a little break but then you're sinking down on him again and his dick seems to come back to life. Your hand now finds a place on his neck, fingers squeezing the sides just enough that he feels it but not enough that he struggles breathing. Chan likes the pressure there, mixed with you bouncing on his lap and moaning his name so desperately. You like the image of Chan under you, mouth parted while he whines at the stimulation and pleas to go faster. You apply a bit more pressure and Chris’ eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to say something. The words don't come out but you still understand the warning. You keep the pressure, watching Chan suck in a breath before he’s spilling inside the condom once again. You don’t stop, set on reaching your orgasm as well. You let go of his neck to touch your clit, moving your fingers in circles while you get closer with each thrust. Chris squeezes your waist, helps you lift yourself up a few more times until you reach your high again.

You let yourself fall to his side, laying next to him on your back while breathing heavily. “Are you ok?” You hear Chris ask.

“More than ok.” You turn your head to look at him. “I’m so glad I fucked up the booking.”

“I’m glad you did too.” He sits down on the bed, stretching his arms above his head. “Let's go, we can shower together this time.”

With weak legs and a big smile, you let yourself get dragged by Chris to the bathroom. Today, you will enjoy whatever this is. Tomorrow, you will figure it out.

#poemsforchan post #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #skz x you #skz x y/n

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guardarecheluna · 4 months

Text

I'd do anything for smiles, i'd move heaven and earth.

Authors note: Hiiii! Uhh, so this turned-out way more angsty and emotional than I planned, which is probably what happened when I just go with the flow and write instead of trying to plan it all out beforehand. But I really enjoyed writing this piece, so let me know your thoughts! Love, Elle x.

Word count: ca 4k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, talk about babies and pregnancy

Summary: Harry wants a family with Y/N, actually, he wants nothing else. Y/N isn’t so sure about the whole baby thing, until everything changes.

Y/N never wanted to be a mother. She was mother enough to her siblings growing up, and she knew; if there was ever a want to have a child, it would be an already existing child who needed a home.

Harry on the other hand always knew that it was his calling to be a father. He had this constant baby fever, always agreeing to babysit his friend’s children and tending to their little ones. No wonder he had an abundance of godsons and goddaughters at the ripe age of 26.

He also knew he wanted children with Y/N, almost the minute he caught her eyes at that birthdayparty, but 3 months into their relationship, they still hadn’t talked about if there was a possibility of children in the future.

Y/N had grown up being told that having children was the ultimate goal in life. She’d been told stories about how rewarding it was, how much love you got to give and receive, and how all the newborn sleepless nights was going to be worth it. She always smiled at the comments, knowing she’d never feel that way.

Her mother always told her that she had been the same when she was younger, but then when she had met Y/N and her siblings father, she just wanted to give him a baby. Almost like her biology and nature was playing a bigger part than her conscious. Her mother had told her that Y/N was going to know when she’d met the right man, that she would know that she loved him, because she would want to give him a child that was half her and half him, but Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever heard anything more ridiculous in her life.

Don’t get Y/N wrong, she loved children, and they loved her just as much, it was just that she couldn’t picture her life surrounded by another tiny human being. Taking care of them constantly, them always needing her in one way or another, hovering ang clinging on to her. Y/N was out of breath just listening to people talk about children.

3 months into Harry and Y/N’s relationship

Harry had agreed to babysit Scout; Sarah and Mitch’s baby. Just for a few hours while they got some things done that would be at least 10 times more difficult with a needy baby around. Scout isn’t a baby really, at 13 months old, but Harry would never admit that fact to anyone.

Harry was on the carpet of his own apartment, laying on his stomach, looking at Scout who was currently stacking cubes to make a tall tower. Harry had absolute hearts in his eyes for this baby. Looking at the small blonde boy, Harry released a sigh he had been holding when Scouts tower of blocks finally held up and was steady enough not to fall over. “Look at you, Scout! Your tower is so tall!” Harry exclaimed, impressed at his godson’s work, and expecting Scout to push the tower over, and starting his project once again. Instead, Scout looked up with his bright blue eyes and walked over to Harry, who was now sitting up. Scout threw himself right in Harry’s arms, giggling and babbling something to him with his teethy grin.

Harry felt like he could cry. Melt into a little puddle on the living room floor, just a wet spot in the carpet for Y/N to mop up when she got home. “You’re too good to me” Harry said once again when Scout regained his balance and started over with his blocks again.

Harry placed his large hand over the baby’s back, strong him gently to let him know that he was still behind him. Scout had blonde little locks ending just at the nape of his neck, and a stylish little outfit on, he looked almost like a little old man. Harry curiously continued watching Scout playing, reacting to his towers and stacking, now and then running his hand trough Scout’s blond locks. Yeah, he could get used to this.

Y/N’s footsteps were heavy, coming through up the stairs to Harry’s house, and in over the doorstep. Her shoulder was aching with her massive tote bag carrying around everything she could possibly need for a workday – she just wanted to cuddle up at home, with Harry.

She heard giggles from the lounge as she took of her shoes. Simultaneously smiling and being slightly annoyed at the unwelcome guest, she was just so tired.

She walked through the hall until she arrived at the lounge. Two messy looking boys looked up at her in surprise, seeming very invested In building some kind of tower with building blocks.

“Hi my darlings!” Y/N put a smile on. She really couldn’t stay annoyed with Scout in the room, he just had this incredible vibe to him, it was impossible not to get in a good mood around him. “What a lovely surprise to come home to.” Y/N continues, settling down next to Scout and Harry. Although, just by looking at Harry, Y/N knew he was in baby-mode. A constant smile on his pink lips, eyes barely leaving Scout for a second.

Scout was happy to see Y/N, leaving his blocks for a minute to get some cuddles in from one of his favourites. Harry also leaned in for a kiss, smile still on his lips, putting his arms around them both and nuzzling baby Scout’s forehead with his own. Yeah, he was going to get used to this.

Later that evening, full of homemade pasta and wine, Harry and Y/N cuddled up on their sofa, Scout having left with his parents hours ago. Harry had waved him off and was throwing kisses to him as Mitch walked out with Scout in his arms.

“What’s with you, today?” Y/N whispered softly to Harry, lips ghosting over his jaw, leaving wet kisses along the stubble. Harry’s cheeks instantly flushed, feeling a word vomit consisting of love, babies and the future coming up his throat. He thought about babies way too often, and of course, he was still young and had many years to plan his family, however, when he looked at Scout and Y/N cuddling earlier in the afternoon, he knew he had to let it spill out how much he wanted a baby at some point.

“I just…” Harry trailed off, looking at the ceiling to try and calm his beating heart, knowing that with Y/N’s soft kisses on his jaw, it was going to be impossible. He continued, “Seeing you and Scout cuddling and playing today was just…you’re it for me. And I can’t fucking wait until we have one of our own. A little mix of you and me, I can’t imagine a more perfect thing even If I tried.” Y/N felt her blood run cold at his comment. He had taken for granted that they were going to have children one day, and she was going to have to break his heart with what she was going to say next. She felt cruel, also aware of how many women on this earth who would kill to have Harry say that to them.

She had been quiet for far too long now, frozen up in Harry’s tight embrace. She realized that it was no use for her to say anything else but the truth.

“Harry, we haven’t even spoken about having children. I…I’m not sure I want that for our future.” She spoke gently, knowing that this may break his heart into microscopic pieces, his feelings for her turning to absolute dust and flying off to an unknown destination.

It was Harry’s turn to freeze up. He could feel tears burn in his eyes, jaw aching at those simple words. She didn’t want to have a baby. She didn’t want to have a baby with him. Harry truly couldn’t imagine a worse scenario for himself. He had found the love of his life, but she didn’t want children. Harry knew better at this point in his life than to just keep it to himself. Bottle up his needs and feelings and bury then deep, deep underground. But right know, in this situation, he didn’t know what to do besides breathing deep and calming his becoming tears. “Dove, I, what do you mean you don’t want it? Not right now or not ever? C-cause I didn’t mean right now, I just-“. He babbled out, eyes still focused on the ceiling, knowing that if he looked at her, he’d break into pieces.

He awaited her answer with a sweat forming on his brow, hands clammy as they tried to hold on to her as well as he could, but metaphorically, he could feel her slip away from him already. “Not right now. And probably not at all.”

The tears he had held onto fell.

1 year later

Harry really hadn’t expected to become so emotional about their conversation from a year ago, he blamed it on his emotions running high from when he babysat Scout earlier that day.

Harry didn’t let Y/N see his tears that night, everything was still new between them, and after that night, they had both agreed that they would talk about it another day.

But the thing is, the thought of Y/N never wanting a baby with Harry, absolutely killed him. It was like ever since that day, he had a grey little cloud above his head, having her words wash over him like the high tide at any point of the day.

Harry knew he couldn’t hate her if she didn’t want children. He knew that some people just didn’t want children, and he would have to accept it, even though the thought of not having his own family was aching in his bones.

He knew that if this continued on, he would have to choose between staying with her, the love of his life, but probably never having children, and leaving her, knowing that he could have a family of his own, but never with the only person that he wanted that with. At this point, all the thoughts were swirling in his head, causing a migraine. It always turned out this way, and none of the options he considered was making him happy. He loved her so much. So much that he could barely breathe when he looked at her. He hadn’t been in love before he met her, and he was in love the moment she met eyes with him. She was everything, but this couldn’t continue any longer.

Harry felt all his emotions from that day resurface when he entered his bedroom, Y/N laying cuddled up on his bed, freshly showered, with her nose in one of his books he had recommended to her. As he stepped inside, his breathing was shaky, and from that point on, he couldn’t hold it together for even a minute longer.

Y/N looked up at him, confused with the sudden rush of emotions in the room. She opened up the duvet for him, and he crashed into her body like a limp doll, grabbing on to her for his life, knowing that it may very well be the last time that he got to do so.

Y/N had been on her own journey in the past year. A year of self-discovery, of pain, pleasure, and allowing things to come as they are without trying to put to much thought into it.

After their conversation about family and children that night, just three months into their relationship, Y/N was still sour about the way she grew up, caring for her siblings, taking on way to much responsibility at such a young age. But she wasn’t angry anymore. She had realized that it didn’t do her any good to think about her past and let it swallow her whole. She wanted to focus on the future, her work, her relationship with Harry and their future together.

She was so in love with him, like the moon loved the stars, like the river liked the rocks they were flowing with. He was everything.

The memory of their conversation from a year ago hurt her heart. She knew it had broke him. But they were also just three months into their relationship, she was angry at her family and fresh into being alone and self-sufficient as an adult. She couldn’t think about having kids, she wasn’t in the headspace.

But as their relationship evolved and bloomed, she couldn’t help but to think about their future together, maybe as a family. The glimpses of him with his godchildren, the way he was acting around them made her body run hot.

How much she denied she wanted children, she couldn’t anymore. It would be a lie. The thought she almost didn’t dare to think, their own baby was creeping into her head more and more since that conversation. Since she had truly fell in love with him. And there was no longer any reason do hide it or deny it.

Harry’s body was shaking under the duvet, gripping onto Y/N’s body for some type of comfort. Y/N was confused, but gentle, letting him trap her with his tall body, and running soothing circles over this bare back and shoulders. “Shhh, darling, what’s on that beautiful mind of yours, huh?” She said gently against his unruly hair, sticking out everywhere.

And he told her. He told her everything on his mind and placed all of his card on the table. He had given up any hope of being truly happy, weather it was with or without her. It was her time to cry, her breathing harsh and guilty. She didn’t know he was still thinking about that, and so constantly as well. She had been thinking about casually talking about it with him, revisit the conversation and drop some hints about her current state of mind. She had no idea he felt like this, like the only options were to be with her and have no children, or to leave her to be with another that could never make him truly happy, but he would have a family with.

Y/N let him spill out every single one of his thoughts, gently carding through his hair, trying to calm him down, and unconsciously letting him know that is was all going to be alright.

When he finished, he felt like jelly, his body weak and dehydrated. “Alright my love.” She told him as she switched their positions in the bed, their bodies flush against each other, facing each other with only so much as a few centimetres between their wet faces.

“Let me tell you about this past year…” She started, as he listened to her voice telling him everything he had wanted to hear all those months ago. His breathing was slowly evening out, but tears still fell steady as she went on. He placed pecks on her puffy lips now and then, listening, awarding her with more kisses when he realised; it really wasn’t as bad as he had thought, she did want a family. As long as it was with him, and as long as it was never going to be as it was with her own family.

2 years later

She was going to tell him tonight, and she wanted to make It special.

Y/N’s now fiancé was at the studio, and while on facetime with her best friend, Maya, she told her about something she had been keeping a secret for the better part of the 2 hour call. Y/N was pregnant. And she did want to tell Harry first, of course, but her head was spinning with thoughts and she wanted to make the announcement at least a little special, so she needed advice. Maya was screaming bloody murder over the call. She was jumping up and down, tearing up and couldn’t seem to get the information into her head. Her best friend was going to have a baby.

Y/N had barely even been able to work through the information herself, but she also had tears streaming down her face.

Her and Harry had another babytalk when they had gotten engaged, just 4 months ago. It had been hours into the night, the moon shining bright onto their bed and lighting up the room. They wanted it. They wanted it now. Names had been thrown around, ideas for a nursery, and Harry was absolutely dying to get started making a baby.

Y/N had a Nexplanon implant for the entirety of their relationship, and a part of her wanted to call the doctor immediately to have it taken out.

She did have it taken out, just weeks after their conversation. Harry was away on business for three weeks, the perfect opportunity as the little incision would leave a few bruises and scars on her arm. She decided on not telling him that she got it removed, and if she was able to become pregnant quick enough, it would be an ultimate surprise. She knew where he stood anyways, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to put a baby in her as soon as he could, he wanted nothing else.

“I honestly don’t even know how to tell him. “I want to make it at least a little special.” Y/N sighed to Maya over facetime, head empty of any and every idea she had ever had. “I don’t think it has to be that special, it’s still an intimate moment, and Harry will surely love it either way. I think with him it’s just best If you catch him when he’s in that disgustingly loving mood you always have him in.” Maya said and rolled her eyes. Y/N smiled at her comment. She did get him in that mood often. He was almost always loving up on her when he had the opportunity. “Yeah,” Y/N said, lost in thought about how to tell him. “I think you’re right, maybe I’ll get him something cute though, I don’t know. I just feel like I could absolutely burst, I just want to tell him right when he gets home.” Y/N continued, gauging Mayas reaction over the phone. Maya offered her a big smile. “I think you should just tell him tonight.”

Harry had burst through the door a little past 6 that night. Voice strained after a whole day of writing and vocals on his new record. He looked visibly tired, but he lit up as soon as Y/N met him in the hallway of now their house. Without a single word falling from his lips he reached his arms out for her, like a child needy for a good cuddle. And of course, she welcomed his embrace with her heart in her throat, like always when he was around her.

“Hi, Dove.” He murmured into her neck, as he breathed in her scent, making a home for himself in the crook of her neck. “Hi” She shyly got out as he embraced her, placing a few gentle kisses on her lips. “I have a surprise for you.” Y/N said cryptically as she looked him in his eyes, wanting to play It off as serious. “You do, yeah? My lovely fiancé at home, giving me a surprise, huh? You know I’d rather have you on a silver plate than-“ he said in his tired tone, eyes gleaming and playful as he straight up admitted his horniness right as he stepped through the door.

“Jesus Christ, you have the mouth of a sailor, I swear.” Y/N chuckled and pushed herself away from his grip, but not without giving him another kiss. “I’m pretty sure you’ll want this surprise.” She continued as she walked away from him, sitting down on their sofa.

Y/N had cozied up the room before Harry got home, fluffed the pillows, lit some candles and got out something to drink for them as well as placing the wrapped up pregnancy test on the coffee table.

Harry eventually arrived into the lounge, raising his eyebrow at the wrapped up gift laying on the table. “S’that for me?” He said playfully. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She felt guilty not telling him about her implant but was sure that the guilt would be washed away with pure joy and excitement at any given moment. Harry sat down right next to her, looking at her face carefully and studying it for any kind of clue of what could be hiding inside the wrapper. “You know you don’t ever have to get me anything, Dove, but it is a nice surprise.” He said, reaching for the gift on the table.

She could barely get any more words out of her mouth, they got stuck in her throat: Her eyes glazed over, knowing what was coming, which had Harry immediately dropping the gift, tending to her instead. “Hey, hey I’m sorry, was it something I said? Are you okay my love?” He carefully said as he took her in his arms, holding her and kissing her head gently.

At this point it was getting ridiculous, so she just laughed it off. She knew he would understand her behaviour when he got to see what was inside of that gift.

“Just open your gift already.” She lightly chuckled and made eyes at the gift, still sitting on the floor from where he dropped it.

And for a moment, something flashed in his eyes. Like he could sense what was coming, he eyed her for a moment, holding the gift in his hands. Harry said nothing more, but just ripped up the paper and was met with not one, but three very positive pregnancy tests, all yelling the word PREGNANT at him. “You’re going to be a dad, H.” Y/N almost whispered, and the tears had started falling for real this time. It was like the best confirmation in herfself that she could ever feel. THIS was what she wanted, the relief flowing from her, making her finally breathe again. Harry studied the tests quietly, Y/N could see his hand shaking from where he sat next to her. “This is a prank, you can’t- are you serious my love?” He looked at her for answers, and she could just kiss him with how he looked right now, lips puffy from biting on them, eyes wide and watery. “I’m fully serious, I got the implant taken out when you were away.” Y/N laughed and stroked his cheek for a moment. She couldn’t believe this was real, that he was real, and that he was hers.

And then he cried, he couldn’t get the words out, fumbling and falling right into her arms, making her fall back on the sofa. “You’re pregnant, Dove, we’re having a baby, I-“. Y/N could feel his wet tears on the side of her neck as he took in the moment, trying to regulate his tears and his breathing, but to no avail. He placed a large palm on Y/N’s lower belly, not yet showing any signs that she was expecting. He laughed, cried, and consistently stroked over her stomach as he kissed her with all the passion he had in his body. No matter how tired he was, he would never be too tired for a moment like this, it was like his whole body was on fire, never to be put out.

“I can’t even believe-, I love you so much, I love you, I love you and our baby so much, you’re everything, absolutely everything.”

And in that moment, Harry and Y/N realised that even if their ways had parted all those years ago, without having this baby, without having each other, everything would be pointless. This is what they were meant to be doing, this is where they were meant to be - in this exact moment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles one shot #ficmas

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ahockeywrites · 29 days

Text

swimwear season - ax72

word count: 4.2k pairing: arber xhekaj x fem!wife!reader warnings: 18+ only!!!! dom!arber, sub!reader, smut, swearing, oral m!receiving, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it as always), butt stuff (please do your research before engaging in this) choking, mentions of a safe word but not used, rough sex, urm I kinda went a little insane with this one… I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry, let me know if there are other warnings I should add because I don’t really know what else to say. I’m sorry, but enjoy :)

authors note: again, apologies 🤭 but I can always write more like the wedding/more of the honeymoon

Those skimpy bikinis and swimsuits would be the death of him, today’s tiny leopard print two piece was no exception, as he watched you frolic about in the crystal clear water. The weight of the gold band on his ring finger felt odd, but the memory of you walking down the aisle in a white dress was one he would never forget.

The memory of how he pounded into you in the dressing room, bridal suite, hotel room (twice), was also something he would never forget. He was ravenous for you and he didn’t think it would ever stop.

You turned around so your back faced Arber and he took in the view. Your ass, your back, fuck. You, his wife, covered in his love bites, his scratches, filled with his cum.

You turned once more and started walking out of the water, breasts bouncing and covered in a few droplets of salty sea water. The two rings on your finger glistened under the sun and as you looked back up onto the private beach of the villa, you saw Arber sitting on a sun lounger with a Canadiens cap on, playing on his phone.

You waved towards him and he waved back before moving his phone so that the camera was directed towards you. A laugh escaped your lips as you threw your arms out to the side, smiling with all your teeth out.

The rays of the sun beat down onto you as you made your way back up onto the sand and to the lounger next to your husband. It felt weird to say, you had just got used to calling him your fiancé and now he had a new title. But it was one you would settle into quickly, you were sure about it.

Arber was shirtless, in a pair of five inch inseam shorts with his thighs out to the world. His lap looked so inviting but you were tired following the morning’s excursion, he had you bent over the villa’s kitchen island as you were attempting to make breakfast. The pancakes were eaten eventually, after Arber had put his face between your legs and brought you to climax once more.

The sun lounger was comfy and you settled into the book that you were reading on your kindle.

An hour or so later, once Arber had dragged you away from your book and into the water once more, the pair of you headed inside to shower and get ready for the dinner that was booked for that evening. Arber had found an Italian restaurant with amazing reviews and was able to get a table booked for sunset.

He knew how excited you were for the restaurant but he couldn’t let you head off to the bathroom without a kiss. Well, maybe a bit more than a kiss. His lips kissed a path down your neck, nimble fingers undoing the knot at the back of your bikini.

The gentle burn of his beard on your skin was delicious and your brain almost short circuited when his hands moved down your back, finally resting on your ass and grabbing the muscle.

“Fuck,” you moaned as your husband, yeah you liked that, wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling gently.

“You like that,” Arber rasped as he continued his assault of kisses down your body, worshiping you. “My wife fucking loves this.”

The ring of an alarm broke the pair of you out of the heated bubble you were in. It was the alarm that you had set to make sure you were off the beach and headed inside to start getting ready for the evening’s meal.

Arber rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, looking clearly unimpressed. His eyes were dark and full of lust.

“We can skip dinner,” his lips reattached to your neck, starting to nibble on the skin. “Order in.” His voice became deeper, breaths louder. “I know what I want for dessert already.”

“Baby,” you groaned but leant your neck to the side, giving your husband more access to the skin. “I want to see sunset over the water.”

“And I want to see the sunset from between your legs,” Arber replied, sass evident in his tone. “Pleasuring my wife, my fucking wife.”

It was painful to pull yourself away from him but you knew that if you wanted to make it to dinner and not turn up in your bikini, you needed to escape Arber’s grasp. You wiggled in his arms and it took him a moment to realise that you actually wanted to get ready. He pouted and attempted puppy dog eyes which didn’t really work when he was taller than you.

You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, lips flush with the shell of his ear. “Tonight,” you started, “I’m all yours.”

“You’re always mine baby.”

You swirled the glass of wine around in your hand forming a small whirlpool in the centre, looking Arber directly in the eyes. His eyes wanted to wander. Down your neck to your collarbones and even further if he knew he wouldn’t be spotted. The low neckline of your black dress was teasing him and he couldn’t help think of what he wanted to do when you got back to the villa.

Your tongue darted out to lap up the droplet of wine that rested on your lips, painted a sinful red. You watched as Arber closed his eyes for slightly longer than usual. The plan was working.

Rile up Arber until he couldn’t take it anymore and wait for him to throw you against a wall and take you on the first surface he could find. It had happened before in Montreal after a win in the playoffs and you knew after that, you wanted it again. Wanted more. Wanted anything that he would give.

“Dessert?” The waiter asked and you shook your head.

“Just the bill, thanks,” Arber replied. You both knew that it would take them a few minutes to bring the bill over so you started a conversation about the plans for the next few days. The plans that didn’t involve you between the sheets. More time spent on the beach, a hike up in the mountains and more lavish dinners with delicious wine.

As Arber was speaking, you took a risk. You raised up one of your feet, clad with a pair of black, heeled Louboutins, and placed it in his lap. The long tablecloth was a godsend as you stroked his clothed cock with the base of the shoe.

It was something you hadn’t felt the confidence to do before. You’d had sex in public, well, outside of bars, in toilets at friends weddings (that was one hell of an apology to the bride that you had to make). But you hadn’t actively teased Arber like this outside of your house.

You watched as his eyes darkened, gaze flicking between your face, chest and where your foot was currently resting. His hand grasped your ankle, gently stroking the smooth skin. It contrasted with the callouses on his hands from years of hockey. You tried to get him to moisturise, but he never did.

Arber tilted his head slightly and gave you a look without expression but you knew exactly what it meant. Stop being a brat. A small part of your brain agreed with him, but the devil on your shoulder was louder than the angel.

You shook your ankle in protest, purposefully working over his clothed cock which you could feel hardening. Not like he wasn’t hard for you the entire wedding season. He was ready to go whenever you wanted.

The waiter returned, holding the bill and Arber passed across his credit card to pay for dinner. It went quickly but you could tell that he was struggling because your foot didn’t stop moving over his groin.

When the waiter confirmed that everything had gone through and you were free to leave, your husband walked over and pulled your chair out before offering you his hand. His arm wrapped around your waist as you thanked the staff for their hospitality during one of the best dinners you had ever had.

There was a slight breeze when you both exited the restaurant and the ends of your dress started to raise slightly, exposing more of your legs to the elements. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means but Arber noticed you shiver slightly so he slipped off his jacket and draped the fabric over your shoulders.

“Even when she’s a brat, my wife deserves the best,” he commented when you began walking once more. The walk back to the villa wasn’t far and with Arber’s jacket swamping you, you kept yourself nice and warm whilst ogling your husband slightly. The fabric of his shirt was straining slightly with his muscles underneath but you were not complaining, especially not when you knew that you’d be the one taking it off later.

When the villa came into view, you hurried off in front of Arber, leaving him to look at you in heels and his jacket as that was all he could see from behind. It was a private road so he knew that he could palm himself over his slacks without anyone else seeing, but he couldn’t. He needed you, even if you were in a bratty mood.

The front door had been left ajar and Arber knew that you had taken your key in that tiny clutch of yours that usually just held your phone and lipstick. That fucking cherry red lipstick. The one that had stained the base of his cock more times than he could remember.

He slipped his shoes off, emptied his pockets and walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer. The top unscrewed easily and he heard your feet padding down the stairs from the master bedroom to the family room. You had decided to make your presence known then, he thought.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted you in a black lace bra with a matching thong and garters wrapped around your thighs. Sitting on your lower legs, ass just touching your heels. There was no way that you had that on underneath the dress. That must have been the reason why you sped off quickly, to get changed. Not that he was complaining.

There was nothing to complain about, not when his wife was sat, waiting for him in almost nothing. Not when his cock jumped when his eyes took you in.

You watched as he walked over to the chair in front of you, cock straining the front of the slacks. Your brain was telling you to undo the pants and get your mouth on his cock, get his cock in your cunt, anything.

Arber swirled the bottle of beer in his hand as he looked at you, sat in only lingerie on the floor. His muscular frame filled out the chair he was sat in and he looked so inviting. But you knew better than to move without instruction.

The smell of need filled the air. He lifted the bottle to his lips to take a sip of the alcoholic beverage and your pussy fluttered at the way his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You knew exactly how those fingers felt inside you, pleasuring you in the way that only he knew how to.

His black suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair and a few buttons were undone, exposing a slither of Arber’s chest. His thighs were barely contained by the black slacks he was wearing and on another night, he would have made you come by you riding his thigh. Not tonight though.

You felt his eyes take all of you in, the way the black lace hugged your curves, the sharp contrast of the lace and your red lipstick that he couldn’t wait to have painted all over his cock.

“Crawl,” Arber demanded, dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver went down your spine, wetness pooled between your legs. “I don’t want to ask twice.”

You meant forward onto your hands and obeyed him, crawling the small distance to where he was sat. Between his legs had become a place where you were incredibly comfortable and it was somewhere you had spent a lot of time recently. In bed, on the private beach, a closet at an event.

Arber undid the button at the top of his slacks and followed that with the zipper. His skin was immediately on display and that’s when you realised that he had foregone boxers for dinner. He didn’t do it often and it shocked you almost every time he did. Arber just reminded you that on most nights out you went without a bra and occasionally panties. As always, you rolled your eyes at him.

Your husband shuffled in the seat, freeing his weeping cock to the cool breeze. The tip looked a painful red and you watched as Arber wrapped a hand around his thick shaft. He gently stroked himself, watching how you looked up at him longingly, wanting to replace his hand with your mouth. He was in a mean mood tonight, but not too mean.

“Open,” Arber commanded. You obliged, allowing him to push two fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers in the same way that you would do to his cock, giving the tips gentle licks.

After a few moments, he pulled the fingers out of your mouth and then worked his cock with the same hand, using your saliva as a lubricant. Fuck, it was hot to watch your husband fuck his hand as his eyes trailed down your body.

It took all of his self control to not burst then and there, but somehow he found the tiniest slither and removed his hand from his shaft.

“Suck,” the words echoed around the room but you barely had time to notice what he had said before your mouth was full of his cock. His hand rested on the back of your head, pushing you down so that your nose was almost flush with Arber’s pubic bone.

Almost. To work him fully, you needed to use at least your mouth and a hand but truthfully, watching his cock go in and out of your mouth was one of the hottest sights he had ever seen.

The grip on the back of your head loosened and he allowed you to dictate the pace. At first you started slow, but very quickly increased the speed. You could feel Arber tugging on your hair, his nails scratching your scalp due to the pleasure that you were giving him.

His hips started bucking up, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears started pricking at the corners of your eyes, not for the first time on this holiday.

A few rogue tears did drop down your cheeks, bringing your mascara down your face.

You loved it, the way that Arber could take control on the ice and in the bedroom. He was a gentleman in public, but a freak in the sheets. The side that only you got to see was one of your favourites, along with Arber in the mornings who woke you up with kisses to your face and neck and followed it up with gentle sex.

Or the Arber who loved to watch you bake in the kitchen and crowned himself the official taste tester of the Xhekaj household, ensuring that all the baked goods were of an acceptable quality.

Or the Arber who used one arm to pin your hips down on the bed and used the other hand to rub tight circles on your clit as he buried his face in your cunt.

But this Arber, brat tamer Arber was one that rarely came out.

“Lean back princess,” you obliged your husband and watched as he jerked himself off, it took him moments to come, painting your chest with his seed, claiming you as his once more.

You took a finger to the mess he had made on your chest and collected some of the come onto the tip of your index finger. Your eyes met his and he watched as you put your finger into your mouth and sucked off his cum. It made him almost want to orgasm again at how sexy you looked.

“Upstairs, now,” he ordered, using his hand to direct you in front of him.

Arber watched as your ass swayed as you walked up the stairs. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the thin, black lace that sat between your ass cheeks and how he wanted to bury himself there.

The pair of you rounded the corner and a strong hand came to your shoulder. “Lay down princess, or I’ll make you.”

You listened and rested your chest on the soft fabric of the comforter, feet still planted on the floor. The globes of your ass were on display to your husband and you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass.

A moan caught your attention, and you turned your head as much as you could to see Arber undoing the buttons of his shirt and fully taking off his slacks. He was stood behind you fully naked, except his chain, in all his glory.

Hands roamed over your backside, massaging the muscle, moving the material of your thong from between your ass cheeks to the side.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of bottle of lube being opened and the cold sensation of it resting on your tightest opening. One of Arber’s large fingers circled your asshole, testing the waters, asking for permission.

“Fuck yes please,” you moaned, knowing that he needed your consent.

“What do you want baby,” he growled in your ear, finger still skirting around where you needed him.

“You,” your words were breathless, you could barely speak. You were so strung up, wound so tight that any movement could tip you over the edge.

“Me?” Arber questioned. “Where do you want me?”

“Want you in my ass, want your fingers,” you groaned before he slowly pushed his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle. Your moans bounced off the walls as Arber slowly moved his finger in and out, the sounds of the lubricant on his finger were drowned out by you.

You felt Arber climb onto the bed as he continued to finger your ass. He caged you into the bed, pressing your chest further into the bed, the cool metal of his chain adding to the difference in sensation you felt in different parts of your body. It was a sight as your tried to arch your back into him but he didn’t let you, he needed to have you learn that you couldn’t be a brat in public.

“If my wife wants to be a brat in public, she’ll get punished when she gets home,” he whispered in your ear before pulling his finger out of your ass.

You rolled over onto your back, sweat dripping down your forehead. A pout formed on your lips and you tried to look as though you were in a mood with your husband.

Arber completely ignored your look and walked over to his suitcase. You watched as he squatted down, appreciating his hockey training, and rummaged through his belongings. He was looking for something and your pussy clenched around nothing as you wondered what it could be.

Your husband was no stranger to using toys in the bedroom, he loved the way that he could make you writhe and squirm when he pressed your vibrator to your clit as he pounded in and out of you. The man could multi task better than anyone else you had been with.

He was muttering something to himself, you couldn’t make out the words but you could hear the jangle of metal on metal and you realised what he was looking for. The butt plugs.

Before Arber, no one had ever entertained your interest in anal play but your then boyfriend relished the idea. You had mentioned that you had masturbated with butt plugs in before and you loved the sensation. From then, he helped you get more comfortable with the feeling of his fingers then, and eventually his cock.

He would never forget the moans you made when he played with your clit as his cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle. How you moaned into his mouth as he pressed sweet kisses to your lips when he slowly started moving his hips back and forth. The feeling of your orgasm and the way you arched your back into his chest and he watched your eyes roll back in your head. Absolute bliss.

“There it is,” Arber exclaimed when he found the right one. “Ass up again baby, you know what I want.”

“Yes sir,” you rolled over and arched your back, pushing your ass into your husbands face. His hand slapped the smooth skin of your butt, giving each cheek a hard spank. It stung, but the pain was pleasurable. You had taken more spankings before.

“It’s gonna be cold, but you already knew that,” Arber explained as he opened the bottle of lube again, coating the metal in the liquid.

You felt the tip of the plug press against your asshole and took a deep breath, knowing what was to come.

“Breathe out baby,” Arber coached and eased the plug into you as you followed his instruction. “Fucking beautiful.” He stepped back to admire his handy work. The jewel tucked between your cheeks sparkled under the dim lights of the room and his cock hardened instantly.

He was quick to cage you back into the bed, slipping his cock into your dripping pussy. Expletives left your mouth as Arber started thrusting hard and fast into you. One of his hands roamed your back, grasping one of your breasts and using it as leverage to pull your back flush to his chest, the other snaked it’s way to find your clit and started rubbing tight circles on the bud.

The pressure built in your core, from the sensation of the plug, your husband’s length hitting that spot over and over again and the sustained attack on your clit. Arber knew exactly how to get you to the edge and over it, if he was feeling nice.

“Fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back to rest on your husband’s shoulder. “I’m gonna,” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he pulled out of you and flipped you over so your back was pushed into the bed.

“Brats don’t get to come unless I say,” he said before lifting your legs up so your ankles rested on his shoulders. He positioned himself in front of your wanton cunt before pushing himself inside your tight walls once more.

His hands wandered again, as they always did when you were naked and on display for him. His right gently wrapped around your neck and his left played with your nipple. The extra sensation meant that you twitched up into him and he could tell that you were almost at the end of what you could handle before shouting your safe word.

“Come for me princess,” Arber encouraged you. “Don’t hold back.” His hand that was playing with your nipple moved down to your clit and started drawing figure eights on the nerves.

You leant into the feeling of pleasure that started building. You couldn’t say anything, your entire body was overtaken in the sensation of Arber doing everything he needed for you.

He watched as you gasped and then he felt your walls constrict around him. Stars filled your vision as Arber fucked you through your orgasm that seemed to last forever. You were on a different planet with how he made you feel, he knew exactly what you needed and when you needed it. The strength it had taken to keep your legs on his shoulders had gone as he let them fall down.

Arber was quick to follow on your orgasm as he felt his balls tighten and he shot his seed into you, coating your walls. His large body fell on top of yours in a sweaty tangled mess. His lips found yours once more in a sweet kiss and he could tell that he had tired you out.

“I’m gonna pull out now baby,” he told you and you groaned as you felt the sensation in your core change from full to empty. “The plug too.”

You moved your body slightly but Arber took the lead and spread your legs to get the best access to the plug without rolling you over.

“Deep breath again baby,” you obliged Arber as he gently pulled the plug from you. Your body shook slightly at the second change in sensation but you started snuggling yourself into the comforter on the bed.

Arber walked into the bathroom to clean the plug and then quickly walked back out with a damp, warm washcloth and started wiping between your legs. A smile made its way onto your face as your husband looked after you, even after ruining you.

In his other hand, he had a makeup wipe. He gently ran the wipe across your face, collecting the mascara that had run down and cleaning off the last remains of lipstick.

“I know it’s not your twenty step skincare routine,” he joked. “But it’s better than nothing.”

You found the energy to run a hand through his dark locks and bring him in for a kiss.

“If you think that’s gonna stop be being a brat, think again,” you smirked, only to be met with a bigger smirk from Arber.

“Sometimes, the sheriff needs riding darling,” he replied. “And that’s where you come in.”

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey story #hockey fic #smut #arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj smut #ax72

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f6bron · 4 months

Text

delicate lilac.

pairing : badboy!iso x soft!gn!reader

notes : bad boy x sunshine trope, mutual-pining but both of them are unaware of it, potential friends to lovers, fluff fluff fluff >.<

The campus buzzed with energy as students hurriedly moved from one class to another. Among the sea of people, Li Zhao Yu, also known as Iso, stood out—an enigmatic figure with a formidable reputation that sent shivers through many.

Yet, beneath the intimidating facade, a softer side existed, one that only revealed itself in the presence of one person.

And that's you, Y/N L/N.

As the two of you and your friends strolled through the campus, Iso couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy bubbling within him as he watched you interact with your friends. Laughter filled the air, and Iso's eyes followed the movement of your lips as you spoke animatedly.

Your plump cherry lips, soft skin, and the way the sun highlighted your features. He longed for the day he could receive a similar treatment from you.

"Must be nice," he thought, unconsciously fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

"Iso?" you called, snapping him back to reality.

Stammering, caught off guard by your sudden attention, he replied, "Y-yeah?"

You let out a tiny giggle, a sound that made warmth creep up onto Iso's face. "What were you daydreamin' about?"

"Oh, nothing. I… I was just thinking about–" Iso fumbled over his words, nervousness taking over. Are you being for real, Iso?! This is not you!

Before he could realize it, you slipped a piece of candy into his rough and calloused hands—a stark contrast between your soft and delicate hands and his rugged ones.

"Huh?" he questioned, giving you a puzzled look.

"You said you wanted a strawberry-flavoured candy," you reminded him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Iso could feel warmth engulfing his heart, not expecting you to remember the tiny details he mentioned during the casual conversation you guys had on your way to class.

"Don't tell anyone, but… I kinda stole it from Jett."

"Really… for me?" Iso asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah! For you!" you replied, causing Iso to chuckle. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

"Thanks…"

"All right, lovebirds! Enough of that," Phoenix interjected from behind, placing his hands on both Iso's and your shoulders. "We gotta get movin'."

"We're not—"

"Whatever," Phoenix shrugged, cutting Iso off.

"See you at the cafeteria later." he said, winking at you before leaving. Iso sent a harsh glare to Phoenix, the audacity for him to wink at you.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Take care, Y/N. Text me after you're done with your classes, okay?"

Iso sighed internally, wishing he could be there for you 24/7.

You nodded shyly before joining the rest of your friends to head to class. "Mhm… you too."

Even though Iso is a notorious class-skipper, up to everyone's surprise, he has been showing up to lectures lately. It's all because he couldn't resist the charm of Y/N's pout.

The thought of being the cause of that disappointed expression wrecks his heart a bit. He would trade his soul if it means seeing that cute smile of yours, and to get complimented by you.

Iso caught up and walked alongside Phoenix, still holding the strawberry-flavored candy you gave him earlier. Phoenix shot him a knowing look. "If you're gonna play pretend, just give up."

"Huh?"

"Are you being for real, lad?" Phoenix nudged Iso's shoulder. "You never look so ‘down bad’ over a person." Iso sighed, finally getting the point.

"Is it too obvious?" Iso replied, popping the candy into his mouth effortlessly.

"Yeah, too obvious. ‘Saw how a love shape starts forming in your eyes as soon as Y/N appears in your sight." Phoenix teased, smirking.

Iso chuckled, the image of adorable you started playing in his mind. Not like you’ll ever leave it anyway.

"Come on, man. You can't blame me. Y/N is too cute to resist."

(A/N): THIS LOOKS RUSHED IM SORRY anyways im thinking of turning badboy!iso into a series but we'll see...

masterlist.

#— rumi drabbles . . .#f6bron #li zhao yu #iso x reader #valorant iso x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant imagines #valorant headcanons #iso x y/n

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Out of Time Nanami x f!reader

Part Two out now!

Rating: Explicit (because of part two)

Word Count: ~5.7k

Summary: Two nights before your thesis is due, you decide to take a break at your favorite bar. Meanwhile, Nanami, after a week’s worth of exhausting missions, is desperate for a drink. By chance, the two of you meet and spend an unforgettable night with each other that ends just a little too soon. cw: language, drinking, kissing, suggestive touching, switching POVs (reader is in second person, Nanami is in third), eventual smut, original female character (Gina). Author's Notes: Inspired by The Weeknd's Out of Time music video, because I think Nanami + karaoke is always a fun idea! This is part one of a two-part series. Reader is in grad school, mid-twenties, Nanami is around the same age. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/cafekitsune.

With your final statement typed out on page forty of your thesis, you save it, shutting your laptop closed and immediately groaning into your hands. All that’s left is to proofread, cite your sources, and you’ll be ready to submit. Finally.

It’s been a six-month long journey, and at last, you’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. In two days, you’ll be rid of the dreaded thesis statement, and in two weeks, you’ll be the proud recipient of a master’s degree. Two years of the most rigorous academic challenge you’ve ever faced in your life, sealed with a piece of paper that you might not even benefit from in the future. This still calls for some celebration, right?

After another minute of grumbling, you take your phone out to text your best friend Gina, who should be off her shift by now.

You: I need a fucking drink.

Gina: highballs at Kanpai?

You: YES

Gina: I’ll pick you up in 15

The Kanpai Cocktail Bar is your favorite downtown. That’s where you first met Gina, who was a bartender there at the time. After she left to work for another establishment, the two of you still frequent Kanpai, the perfect spot for tasty drinks and entertainment, mainly in the form of people-watching.

However, this past semester, your trips there have lessened significantly, too preoccupied with this goddamn thesis. You need a well-deserved break, something to fuel you for the next two days before you click submit.

You quickly get ready, throwing on a blouse and a pair of jeans. Once you receive Gina’s text, stating her arrival, you swing a tiny purse over your shoulder and head outside, greeting her with a hug.

“Did you finish your thesis?” she asks, linking arms with you, starting the walk to the train station.

“For the most part.”

“Good. We can get drunk tonight,” she says, a devious grin on her face.

“Not too drunk, I still have some work to do. I just need to take the edge off.”

“Fine. We’ll get buzzed, maybe find some cute guys to dance with, and call it a night. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, unsure about the cute guys part. It’s been a while since you last danced with, or even encountered, a man. With your priority being this paper, you haven’t had time to date or hook up with anyone. You predict that tonight will be no different.

Five stops and you’re downtown, strolling towards Kanpai, which is already packed. Luckily, you find a table and flag a waiter down to place your order. Minutes later, they deliver the first round of cocktails and a plate of fried chicken karaage. You and Gina cheers, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. Halfway through your drink, you notice Gina eyeing something, or someone, in the distance.

“What are you staring at?”

“There’s this really hot guy at the bar. Like, really hot. I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”

You turn to the direction she’s looking at, immediately knowing who she’s referring to. He’s tall, well-built, with strikingly white hair, almost blinding in the dim lighting of the room. The most intriguing thing about him is the black blindfold around his eyes, and a naughty smirk on his face. Leave it to Gina to spot an attractive man instantly; she’s always had excellent radar for that.

“I’m going to invite him to our table,” she announces, sliding out of her chair to stand up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He’s hot. And we have space.”

She’s right; there’s two empty chairs, one beside the both of you. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t invite him, so you don’t question it any further, watching from your peripheral as she heads towards the bar, leaving you momentarily alone to sip on your highball.

You’re almost completely finished with your cocktail when you hear the distinct click of Gina’s heel’s approaching. Craning your neck to face them, you’re surprised to find not two people, but three, standing next to the table. Another man, a tad shorter, similarly well-built, blonde hair, and dressed in a tan business suit. His eyes are also covered with spectacles that resemble steampunk glasses. The spotted tie he wears is interesting, adding a splash of pizazz to the otherwise normal outfit.

You greet them, introducing yourself. Gojo, the one with white hair, happily shakes your hand while his friend, Nanami, maintains a stern expression. They take their seats in the chairs next to you and Gina, Gojo on her side, Nanami on yours.

“Should we order another round of drinks?” Gina suggests, glancing around to catch the waiter.

“Sure! But I’ll have a Shirley Temple. I don’t drink alcohol.”

“You’re at a bar, but you don’t drink?”

“I don’t; he does,” he answers, pointing his thumb across at Nanami. He simply grunts in response.

“What’s your drink of choice?” you ask, tilting your head to face him.

“Sake,” he states, focused on the center of the table avoiding anyone’s gaze. He’s cold, standoffish, and stoic. The type of person you’d typically avoid.

“Should we order sake then?” Gina suggests. “And a mocktail for you, Gojo,” she adds, nudging him flirtatiously.

“I’ll have a little bit,” you say. “I have to finish my thesis, remember?”

“Are you a student?” Gojo inquires, leaning forward, elbows propped up, chin in his palms.

“Grad student. I’m almost done, thankfully.”

“Good for you! This round will be on us then, right Nanamin?”

He shrugs silently, gaze unmoving. What an odd fellow. He’s showing absolutely no interest in socializing, which you don’t entirely blame him for. Maybe he was dragged here beyond his own will. He’s opposite of Gojo, who oozes charisma from every crevice. You can’t expect him to match that type of chaotic energy.

Gojo fetches the waiter, ordering sake and his virgin drink. Him and Gina chat amongst themselves, no doubt flirting excessively. You sit next to Nanami in silence, slurping on whatever liquid remains in your glass, basically water from the melting ice. You want to pull your phone out to have something to distract you, but your neighbor continues to stare at the table, frozen in place, not speaking. Hands tucked neatly in front of him.

You attempt small talk once more, gradually losing hope that this will lead anywhere. “What do you do for work, Nanami?”

“I’m a salaryman.”

“Is Gojo a salaryman, too?”

“No.”

“How do you two know each other?”

“From high school.”

“Neat.” You glance around the room, wishing the alcohol would arrive sooner. His answers are curt, as if you’re pestering him. Even behind the steampunk glasses, you can tell he’s uncomfortable. He clearly doesn’t want to be here.

You tune out whatever Gina and Gojo are discussing, not wanting to eavesdrop on their privacy, remaining silent as you twiddle your thumbs beneath the table. The drinks arrive, which you’re ecstatic about. Gojo smiles as he sips on his mocktail. Gina does the honors and pours the cold sake into each small glass, passing it to you and Nanami. With a cheers, you each down your shots, refreshing and bitter down your throat.

“So, do you ladies have any single friends you can set Nanamin up with?” Gojo asks.

Beside you, Nanami tenses up. “Gojo, I don’t want –”

“Don’t worry, buddy! We’ll find you a nice girl! Nanamin here is so shy, poor guy needs a lot of help when it comes to the ladies – ”

“Gojo,” he warns, sterner this time, Gina unable to contain her giggling.

“He’s an attractive guy, right? If it weren’t for the stick up his ass, he’d for sure be a catch.” Gojo smirks, finishing the rest of his drink.

Gina elbows him, grinning. “Don’t be so mean to your friend. Not everyone has to be in a relationship. She’s never been in one and she’s totally fine.” She points at you, much to your dismay.

You’re reminded how loose Gina’s lips get whenever she indulges in alcohol. While it’s nothing to be ashamed about, you still feel heat rush into your cheeks from embarrassment, having a personal fact about yourself revealed so casually in front of two strangers. “I’ve never had time for a relationship,” you explain. “Been too busy with school.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being single! I’m just trying to help this poor guy out, he’s always complaining to me how lonely he is, but he never puts himself out there!”

The table rattles suddenly and Gojo yelps. “Ouch! Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Nanami has his arms crossed tight over his chest, foot flat on the floor after kicking his friend in the shin.

Rubbing his leg, Gojo changes the subject, talking about his latest travels somewhere, to which Gina is absolutely enthralled by. You listen passively, swirling your fingers around the ring of the glass. It’s getting late and you should head back to your apartment soon, knowing your thesis is stuck in your laptop, waiting to be submitted. You don’t want to leave until Gina is done working her magic on her new friend, so you wait, not bothering to converse with the guy next to you. He seems equally as unenthused as you do, now tapping one of his feet impatiently.

Gojo eventually calls the waiter to pay the bill. After giving him your thanks, the four of you walk out of the bar together, ready to say your farewells. Or so you think. Once outside, Gojo and Gina look at you with guilt on their faces. You’ve known your friend long enough to predict where this is going.

“So, Gojo and I are actually going to hang out a bit longer.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, smirking. “Yeah, Nanami and I have a room at the hotel across the street. I want to give Gina an exclusive tour. We should be done in about an hour or so.”

Nanami makes a strangled noise in his throat, clearly distraught. He can’t formulate a sentence, so you do it instead. “What are you really trying to tell us?”

“Well,” Gina starts. “We thought that since the two of us are hanging out, then the two of you can hang out somewhere else. Just until we’re done. With the tour.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed by the euphemisms, more irritated by the fact that you’re being temporarily stranded out here with someone who wants nothing to do with you.

“Please keep my dear friend company. I promise, we won’t take too long. But definitely not too short either,” he adds under his breath, him and Gina giggling like naughty schoolchildren.

Nanami is still stunned, probably shocked that his friend would dump him like this. Before he can formulate a response, Gojo and Gina turn their backs, walking in the direction of the hotel. “Have fun! I know we will! We’ll call you when we’re done!” Gojo yells out, waving. Gina blows you a kiss before holding hands with him, leaving you two dumbfounded.

You stand beside Nanami in silence, unsure where to go from here. You’re familiar with this location, and you know there is plenty to do at this hour. But you have no clue what this guy likes. Does he like anything?

Clearing your throat, you say, “Well, I guess we have to kill time somewhere.”

He does the same, coughing into his forearm. “I suppose we have no choice.”

“There’s a nearby bakery that’s always open late. Do you want to check that out?”

Focused on his shoes, he shrugs. That’s a good enough answer for you.

You start heading down the familiar street, the shop being only two blocks away from the bar. The two of you walk in silence, Nanami trailing behind you, arms swinging slightly at his sides while you have your hands placed in your pockets. When you arrive to the bakery, you notice one of the workers you’re acquainted with, Susie, waving from the counter. You return her greeting with a warm smile.

Nanami seems intrigued, browsing through the assortment of baked goods. He reads each label carefully, head moving up, down, side to side, inspecting each pastry intently. “Their bread is amazing here,” you comment. “Perfect for sandwiches.”

He hums in response, leaning closer to the loaves of sourdough on display. This is the first you’ve seen him with a more relaxed expression on his face. Without the scowl, he actually seems friendly and approachable.

“The croissants are also really good. My favorites are chocolate and almond,” you suggest, pointing through the glass.

To your surprise, Nanami ends up buying the chocolate one, per your recommendation. Susie, always a cheery smile plastered on her face, rings him up. She eyes you playfully, brow raised, but doesn’t say anything. When it’s your turn, you order two hot coffees, a spur of the moment decision. You have no idea how long you’re going to be stranded out here, so a nice pick-me-up wouldn’t hurt. You explain, “Coffee and croissants go perfectly together, don’t you think?” He looks at you, confused, then shrugs, walking away to find an empty table.

Susie passes you the coffees, as well as creamer and a few packs of sugar. “Hot date tonight?” she asks quietly, a sly smirk on her face.

“No. We’re just stuck together for the next hour or so.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with a fine man like that,” she winks. “Have fun the rest of the night. Also, here.” She opens a small brown bag and sneaks an almond croissant inside. “On the house. You both should enjoy a tasty treat together.” She gathers all of your goods on a tray and slides it towards you, grinning.

Nanami is seated in a corner of the shop, hands placed neatly on the surface, one on top of the other. When you arrive, you set the tray down, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s some cream and sugar for your coffee, in case you want any.”

He nods in acknowledgment, removing the lid to pour in two creams, two sugars. You do the same. He remains silent, brows in a tight knit, concentrating on stirring his coffee. It’s almost endearing the way he’s so focused on the most mundane tasks. Grabbing a napkin, you take your croissant out, ready to bite into it. Before you do, you offer, “Would you like to try some of this?”

Behind his specs, you can see surprise in his expression. He clears his throat, muttering, “Sure.” He takes his chocolate croissant out and begins to tear it in half. “We can split both of them and share.”

You grin. “Good idea.” His lips twitch, as if he wants to smile.

You trade halves, first taking a bite into the chocolate before sipping on your coffee. You let out a satisfied, “Yum!”

This time, there’s no mistaking it; he does smile. “That’s a good sign,” he comments.

“I’ve had this plenty of times, but it’s always so good.”

He removes his glasses and folds them neatly into his breast pocket. You have a clear view of his eyes now, which are much kinder than you expect. He takes a bite, then smirks, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“Well?”

“You’re right. This is definitely deserving of a yum.” The corner of his eyes crinkle. It feels like you’re finally getting through to him.

“See? I told you it’s good!” you say, moving to the almond croissant.

“If I knew you wanted one, I would have bought both of them for us.”

“Susie actually gave this to me on the house, so it all worked out.”

With a brow raised, he asks, “Do people usually give you delicious pastries for free?”

You laugh. “Ha, I wish. Just here. We’re friends.”

“That must be nice.” He nibbles on the rest of it, sips of coffee in between.

“Why are you talking to me all of a sudden?” Maybe it’s the sudden rush of caffeine surging through your body that makes you decide to be bold and ask him straight up.

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, clearing his throat nervously. “I wasn’t really in the mood to be social earlier this evening.”

“But you are now?” You rest your elbow on the table, hand tucked under your chin, studying him.

He chuckles softly, wiping the other corner of his mouth with a new napkin. “I guess so. The croissants and coffee help.”

“So the way to your heart is through your stomach? Good to know,” you tease him, smirking.

“Is that something you’re interested in? Winning my heart?” He gives you a small grin as he meets your gaze.

There’s a flutter in your belly, a skip in your heartbeat. It’s obvious he’s an attractive man; you were focused so much on his off-putting demeanor, you didn’t really think about it until now. Cheeks warm, you respond, “I’m trying to get to know you. We’re stuck with each other for tonight, might as well be friends.”

He nods, agreeing. It’s one night. All you’re doing is killing time together while you wait for your friends to finish their little rendezvous. The chances of ever seeing each other again after this are unlikely. Might as well make the most out of it.

The two of your finish your pastries in a comfortable silence. Only half an hour passes, and still no word from either of your friends. Suddenly, you remember that on Friday nights, street food vendors set up shop down the block from your current location. “Nanami, do you like street food?”

He meets your eyes again, smiling. “Absolutely.”

~~~

Nanami was desperate for a drink tonight.

Him and Gojo are out of town, having completed a strenuous week of exorcising curses from several areas of this city. All he wanted was to consume alcohol, enough to get a good buzz going, then eat a late-night snack before heading to bed. He didn’t expect to find himself at a street food festival with a total stranger, having been rudely abandoned by Gojo. Though, he doesn’t mind his current situation. Anything involving food is something he always delights in. And the company isn’t so bad either. She’s actually quite nice.

Nanami doesn’t like opening up to people. Ever since he went back into Jujutsu Sorcery, he made a promise to himself to never date, not wanting to subject any potential spouses to the horrors of the world he lives in. He keeps himself closed off on purpose, especially to strangers. It’s easier this way. Sure, it comes off rude and cold. And maybe he does get a bit lonely at times. It’s for the best; that’s how he justifies it.

Yet, somehow, this woman is slipping through the cracks. He finds himself enjoying his time with her as they stroll through the street of food vendors, selling all types of delicacies: meat skewers, noodles, varieties of desserts. They even share a serving of Takoyaki because what kind of street food outing is it without a taste of that?

They casually exchange bits and pieces about each other: hobbies, interests, favorite foods, the standard. Nanami has to remain especially cryptic about his real profession, a complicated topic to explain to normal civilians. Besides that, their conversations feel natural. Effortless. There’s no need to be closed off, considering they’re doing this for the time-being, until their two friends finish whatever fling they’re partaking in at the hotel. Their time together will end soon, going back to being strangers, never seeing each other again. Maybe that’s why he’s loosened up; all of this will be over as soon as it began.

After having walked through the vendors once more, they rest at a table off to the side. Nanami finishes off the last piece before tossing the little tray into the trash can. He hasn’t checked his watch since they arrived, occupied with food, and chatting. It’s been about an hour and a half now, still no peep from either Gojo or Gina, though he isn’t anxiously waiting to hear from them. He tries thinking of something else they can do, besides sit here, and watch the clock.

Before he can start suggesting ideas, she beats him to it. “Nanami, do you like karaoke?”

Again, he smiles at her, similar to earlier at the bakery. Chest swelling with an odd, but pleasant sensation. “Absolutely.”

Minutes later, they’re in a small private room at a karaoke bar, ordering a round of cold sake before the singing starts. She volunteers to go first, choosing a well-known pop hit, not at all embarrassed to belt out any high notes. Her voice isn’t bad, enough to carry a tune and to make Nanami, who is as tone-deaf as they come, not feel ashamed about singing in front of her. Halfway through the song, the sake arrives, and he pours it into the two cups, waiting for her performance to be over before passing her the glass. They cheers, then throw it back. She hands him the mic, teasing, “I expect a breathtaking performance.”

“Prepare yourself for disappointment, then,” he smirks, entering the number on the remote. He picks another popular song, one that he always like to start off with whenever he’s doing karaoke with Gojo and Shoko. In fact, he can’t remember doing karaoke with anyone besides his close friends. This is definitely the first in a while; he doesn’t feel as shy as he thought he would. The strobe lights in the dim space create an atmosphere where Nanami isn’t embarrassed to put on a show. He removes his coat and loosens his tie, to which she whistles playfully at him, causing him to laugh. “Don’t encourage me.”

“Oh I absolutely will encourage you,” she responds, leaning forward for a better view. “I’m so ready for this.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol taking its effect, though it wasn’t much. Or maybe he’s genuinely having a good time. Whatever it is, as soon as the melody kicks, he swings his hips to the beat, barely bothering to read the lyrics on the screen because he already has them memorized. From behind, he hears her clapping to the rhythm, giggling and singing along quietly, hollering when he nails a particularly hard note.

The marathon continues, sake flowing into their mouths between songs until the bottle is empty and they’re both on their feet, dancing to the music. Mics in hand, they serenade each other, swaying to the upbeat tempo, smiles open wide with glee. Nanami tosses his tie to the couch, unbuttoning his shirt a quarter of the way down, sweat beading on his forehead, body hot from his buzz and merriment. Their playlist ranges from ballads, alternative rock, R&B, even a few classic Disney hits Nanami secretly likes to indulge in. At some point, Nanami offers his hand to twirl her, not letting go as he swings his arms with hers, grooving to the beat. Their fingers interlock, fitted to each other naturally. There’s no second guessing or doubts in his head that he wants to do this with her. It just feels right.

A worker comes in with a cold pitcher of water, informing them they have five more minutes left of their hour. Nanami is surprised how fast that hour flew. He swears they still had more time left. He can’t help feeling disappointed that it’s over; he still had more songs he wanted to sing before the night ended.

He notices her checking her phone, probably waiting for that text from Gina, hoping that whatever this is ends soon. There’s a tightness in Nanami’s throat, and not from all the singing. He hasn’t bothered to check his phone the entire time they were here, hoping not to see any type of message from Gojo. He realizes in this moment that he doesn’t want this night to end.

To his surprise, she sets her phone back down on the table, attention at the worker. “Can we book another hour?”

For the third time tonight, Nanami can’t contain his smile.

~~~

To say you’re surprised by this recent development is an understatement. You’re actually shocked that this is the same man you attempted small talk with just a hours earlier, only to be treated with the cold shoulder. Now, he’s spinning you around this small room, disco lights twinkling in each other’s eyes, laughing, carefree and happy. It’s contagious, and you have no choice but to join in on the fun.

It’s not until there’s five minutes left of your reservation that you remember the reason you’re here in the first place. Checking your phone for any updates from Gina, you almost audibly breathe a sigh of relief, seeing no new messages. On a whim, you request another hour, not wanting this to end yet. You wonder if he feels the same way.

Halfway through your second hour, the two of you finally take a break, letting the preloaded list of songs you selected play in the background. You sit beside each other, closer than you’ve been all night, thighs touching, body heat radiating. From your peripheral, you observe him, watching his throat bob with each gulp of ice-cold water he takes, emptying the remnants into his mouth. Before he catches you, you look away, sipping on your own drink, suddenly nervous to be so near him, despite dancing with him the past hour and a half.

He chuckles softly. “This was really fun.”

You turn to face him. “It was. You’re quite the performer.”

“I could say the same about you.” He stretches his arm behind you, setting it on the couch. The rolled-up sleeves of his polo graze your neck, making you more flustered. You remind yourself that this is totally normal, not a flirtatious response or anything. Just a guy casually resting his arm behind you, no big deal.

“I feel like I’m going to lose my voice. But it was worth it,” he mentions.

You face him again, beaming brightly. There’s an expression on his face you haven’t seen all night, as if he’s getting a proper look at you, studying you like he hasn’t seen you clearly until now.

“Totally worth it,” you reply. Before you know it, you blurt out, “I don’t want this to end yet.”

At this, he blinks a few times, startled by your statement. “Really?”

You giggle, leaning closer to nudge his arm. “Yeah. Really.”

In an instant, your lips meet, mouths still cool from the ice water. He kisses you gently, both hesitant and sure of himself. He breaks away to ask, “Is this okay?”

You nod, sliding your hands to his nape to close the distance again. His arm slips behind your waist, hand gripped loosely on your hip, pulling you in, kisses getting sloppier. Tongues pushing past lips to swirl around each other.

You can blame this hasty decision on the alcohol, but that wouldn’t be accurate. You’re tipsy at best, and you would bet money that he’s in the same state as you. This isn’t fueled by sake or by the sappy love song playing in the background. This is pure, unadulterated passion, building up the moment you shared those croissants together in that bakery.

You giggle into his mouth as you swing your leg over his lap to straddle him. He has both hands on your waist now, peering at you with a naughty expression. “What can you possibly be giggling about right now?”

“I was just thinking about how I was right earlier. The way to your heart is through your stomach. Admit it; you fell for me as soon as I split my croissant with you.”

He pulls you in closer, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Okay, I admit it. You won my heart.”

His grip is tight on you, guiding your hips back and forth on his lap, his lips scattering delicate kisses along your neck, your hands messing up his hair as you run your fingers through it. There’s not enough time to process that this is actually happening. All you want is to feel him on every inch of your skin. His palms glide underneath your blouse, reaching for your bra, squeezing at your breasts. With his mouth now hot on your ear, he whispers, “I want you.”

You’re not thinking properly when you grab the hem of your shirt to hoist it off your body. Before you strip, there’s loud knocking on the door, startling the both of you.

“We know what you’re doing in there!” a voice yells from the other side. “Cut it out before we call the police!”

Immediately, you remove yourself from him, unsuccessfully ignoring the obvious bulge in his pants. He’s reluctant to take his hands of you, giving your tits another loving fondle before relenting, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Quickly gathering your belongings, you head towards the door, ready to do the walk of shame. Before you turn the handle, Nanami spins you around, kissing you once more. You melt into his mouth, fists bunching his dress shirt, his heart pounding through his chest. If it weren’t for the threat of the cops being called, you’re certain the two of you would go at it right here in this karaoke room.

Another angry rap on the door snaps you both back to reality. You slowly exit the room, staring at the tile floor, avoiding eye contact with the disgruntled worker, crossing their arms at you. You pay for the room, then walk outside into the brisk night air. Nanami holds your hand, fingers entwined seamlessly, a perfect fit.

Despite having spent the last few hours with him, it feels like the beginning of the night. You lean in to kiss him once more, craving his mouth on yours. He places his coat over your shoulders, surrounding you in a snug embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stay like this for what seems like forever until it’s not enough, your phone vibrating in your purse, his ringing in his pocket. Gina’s name is displayed on your screen, and Gojo’s on his. That’s your cue; the final scene of the night.

The two of you take your time walking back towards where your little adventure first started, holding hands like a couple familiar with each other. At the end of the day, you’re still strangers, one night not enough to establish a relationship. You’re certain neither of you wants this to end, not with the way he touches you, the way he gazes at you. There’s no doubt something’s there. The both of you are cowards, too afraid to admit these intense feelings to someone you hardly know. It’s easier to enjoy it in the moment, letting it fizzle out as midnight approaches, leaving it behind as a fond memory.

That’s the problem, though. In the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’re already sure that you want to make more memories with him.

In the distance, you spot Gina and Gojo, standing outside the bar, chatting as they await your return. You’re about to call out to them, but Nanami tugs you into the nearest alley, your cheeks between his palms, kissing you deeply. His thumb grazes your skin tenderly, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls off, breathing staggered, forehead pressed against yours.

You don’t want to say goodbye; this is what it is, right? Back to the real world. You have a thesis due in less than forty-eight hours, one that you forgot about until now, and Nanami is from out of town, soon to be back to his own life, which doesn’t include you. That’s just the way it is.

Without a word, you shrug his coat off your shoulders, handing it to him with a gentle smile. He stares at you, wary, accepting it anyways in his hands, hanging it on his forearm neatly. He reaches for your hand, leading you back to the pathway under the streetlights, letting go as soon as you approach your friends.

Seeing you, Gojo yells out, “Hey!”

Gina waves, hair slightly disheveled, a satisfied grin on her face. Gojo asks, “So, did you two have fun tonight? I know we did.” Gina snorts, kicking him lightly at his ankle.

Nanami clears his throat. “Yes. We had fun.”

Surprised, Gojo replies, “Really? Nanamin actually had fun? I’m in awe!”

Gina looks at you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes. I had a lot of fun,” you answer. You turn to face Nanami, giving him one last smile. He returns it, nodding slightly. This really is the end of it.

Your friend links arms with you, announcing, “Well, we should head home now! This girl still has a thesis to finish.” With that, Gina steers you in the direction of train station, waving farewell to the two men.

~~~

Nanami begrudgingly follows Gojo back to the hotel room. He gives his friend an abridged version of tonight’s festivities, to which Gojo seems thrilled about on his behalf. “You had almost as exciting of a night as I did! Almost. That Gina is a real firecracker.”

He sits at the end of his bed, only now realizing they didn’t even exchange contact info. In the heat of the moment, it didn’t cross his mind, too focused on her soft lips and gentle touch. He leans forward, burying his face in his palms, groaning. “I forgot to ask for her number.”

Gojo chuckles, patting his shoulder. “How can you forget that?”

“Everything happened so fast. We ran out of time.”

The realization of it hits him hard. This can’t be it; there’s no way it can be. He won’t accept that this is the end of them, not after what happened. He’ll do whatever it takes to see her again. Fuck the vow he made to not date; whatever this is, it’s worth it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nanami muffles through his hands, defeated.

Gojo sits beside him, massaging his shoulders, something Nanami usually hates, too distressed to shove him away. “Well, my dear friend, lucky for you, I have Gina’s number.”

At this, Nanami turns to his friend, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

With a cocky smirk, Gojo says, “Let’s go get your girl.”

--------------------

Tagging @liliorsstuff-blog, another fic of our husband, hope you like it!

Stay tuned for part two!

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years

Text

Big Brown Eyes - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You’re a single mom and when you drop your son off at Dustin’s while you go to work, you meet his new friend Eddie.

Note: So, this really just came about because I wanted cute interactions between both Eddie and Steve with a little boy. I might write more in this verse if people like this?

Warnings: single mom, reader x ex steve, stancy is together, mechanic!eddie, i think that’s it?

Words: 5.6k

[Part 2 | Big Brown Eyes masterlist]

“Hello, you’ve reached the Hendersons. Sorry we missed your call-.”

“Shit,” you mutter. You sigh and rub a hand over your face. You purse your lips in thought and tilt your head from side to side before picking up the phone again. Thankfully, this time there’s a response.

“Hello?”

“Max, hey! Do you know where the goonies are hanging out today? I’m trying to find Dustin,” you say.

“They’re all at his house. None of them would shut up about the campaign at school yesterday. Why? Everything okay?” Max asks.

“Yeah, fine. I just have to head to work and need someone to watch Ev. I know you have the evening shift at the diner tonight or I would’ve asked you.”

“Where’s Steve?” Max asks.

“Out of town for the day with the Wheelers. Holly had a dance recital somewhere near Indianapolis,” you tell her.

“Mike didn’t go,” she says with a snort. “He’s at Dustin’s with the rest of them.”

“What a loving brother,” you deadpan.

“One of the guys can watch Ev. I know for a fact Lucas has no plans tonight so don’t let him try to make any excuses.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say. “Alright, I’ll try the house again. Thanks, Max.”

“No problem.”

With a sigh, you hang up and pick up the receiver again, your finger jamming into the familiar numbers for Dustin’s house.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Hey! Hello?” An out of breath Dustin gasps on the other line.

“You all good there?” you ask.

“Oh, hey. Yeah. I’m fine. Was that you who called before? Sorry, it was the final roll of the dice,” he explains, as if that makes it evident why he wouldn’t answer the phone. You can hear the others shouting in the background. You can’t tell if it’s in happiness that they won the campaign, or anger because they failed.

“Uh huh,” you say. “Listen, one of the girls at work called in sick and I said I’d come help out. Could you or one of the boys watch Everett for me, pretty please? It’ll just be for a few hours.”

“Sure, bring him on by. We all know I’m his favorite.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes fondly. There’s no way to deny it, Everett always lights up when he sees his Uncle Dusty Buns.

“Okay, we’ll be there in ten. Thanks, Dustin,” you say.

“Don’t thank me until you get him back in one piece. Bye.”

You chuckle to yourself as you hang up the phone. A squeak sounds behind you and you smirk to yourself at the familiar sound of Everett’s little sneakers hitting the linoleum tile of the kitchen floor. Slowly spinning around on your heel, you catch a pair of big brown eyes staring at you from around the corner. Out of the many things Everett had inherited from Steve, his eyes were what people noticed first. They were nearly identical to his father’s. His hair was also growing similarly, but Everett was still too young to tell if it would be quite as high as Steve’s.

“Is someone spying on me?” you ask.

“Nooooo,” you hear as his tiny head hides back around the corner. His giggling would be enough to give him away even if it weren’t for the scuffling of his feet against the floor.

“I think someone is. I think I was being watched,” you say. You creep around the corner and snatch him up in your arms. The muscles in your arms and back protest at how big and heavy he’s getting.

“By who?” Everett asks innocently. Those damn doe eyes look up at you under thick lashes. It was truly uncanny.

“You, mister!” You dig your fingers into his side, knowing his left is the most ticklish. He squeals and struggles in your grip, trying to break free.

“Mommy, no!” he calls between bouts of laughter.

“Everett, yes!” you answer before peppering kisses all over his face.

He pulls away from your kisses and the two of you look at each other, similar smiles reflecting each other. At least that’s something he got from you. He reaches up to move some hair that’s fallen into your face. It’s more of a smack than a gentle motion, but you know the intention was sweet.

“You’re silly,” he says fondly.

“Oh yeah? Well guess where silly mommy is taking you, Mr. Troublemaker?” you say.

“Toys?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. As if this kid wasn’t spoiled enough by his parents, aunts, uncles, and everyone else who knows him. His obsession with the toy store has stuck with him ever since Karen Wheeler took him there for his third birthday a few months back. You were thankful she watched him as often as she did, and that she spoiled him like her own grandchild, but this obsession was wearing on both your nerves and bank account.

“No,” you say. “Don’t you think you have enough toys? Never mind, don’t answer that, you. Nope, I’m taking you to Uncle Dusty Bun’s.”

Everett’s eyes lit up and he began to bounce in your arms. “Dusty! Dusty!”

More often than not, he called Dustin “Uncle Dusty Bun” in full, but he often reverted to “Dusty” when he was excited or angry. Dustin was never referred to by his actual name by you or Steve when Everett was born, both of you thinking it would be hilarious to give him the nickname instead. Dustin was less than thrilled at first, but the nickname didn’t seem so bad once you asked him to be Everett’s God father as well.

“Yep, come on.” You set Everett down so he can get his little backpack from his room. Whenever Everett went to somebody’s house he packed his favorite toy dinosaur, one of his coloring books, and a handful of crayons with him in his bag.

He runs off, most likely giving the family that lived in the apartment underneath yours a ceiling rattling boom, and you step into the bathroom. Working at the library meant that you didn’t have a uniform you needed to wear. As long as your clothes looked somewhat professional, your hair was neat, and your makeup wasn’t wild, you were good to go. You fix the hair that Everett had swatted and neaten up the rest of it.

Everett jumps into the doorway of the bathroom, blue backpack on and ready to go. “Let’s gooooo!”

“Can’t wait to get away from your mom, huh?” you tease him. You ruffle his dark hair as you pass him, grabbing your purse and keys from the kitchen counter. His loud footsteps echo behind you as you walk to the front door.

“Daddy home?” Everett asks as you’re locking the door behind you.

“Hmm?” you look to Everett who is gazing across the parking lot at the adjoining apartment building where Steve lives. “Oh, no, Daddy isn’t home right now. But he’ll be back by dinner time.”

“Will he make me take a bath?” Everett wrinkles his nose up in distaste as he slips his hand into yours.

“If he doesn’t, I will,” you tell him. You lead him down the stairs to the first floor, Everett jumping with two feet down each step. He hums a song to himself as you walk to the car. Though he hates sitting in it, Everett has become adept at securing his own car seat, which has saved you countless minutes over the past few weeks. “All buckled in?”

He nods to you in your rear-view mirror, and you pull out of the parking lot. It’s not a long ride to Dustin’s but Everett insists on the radio anyway. You weren’t sure when he developed such a love of music, but you’re pretty sure he recognizes more songs on the radio than you do. Love Shack comes on and Everett begins to wiggle in his seat, dancing along to the beat. You were glad the meaning of the song went over his head, and he just enjoys the silly sounds the song makes.

Everett knows the way to Dustin’s and gets more excited the closer you get to his house. He begins to look out the window, straining his neck as if that will help him see his favorite uncle sooner. As you pull up to the Henderson house, you notice a number of cars parked out front. So, the guys were still here.

“Looks like you’re seeing more than just Uncle Dusty Bun,” you tell him as you swing your car into the driveway. You would only be here five minutes; it doesn’t matter if you’re blocking anyone in.

“Who?” Everett asks.

“Let’s go see,” you say, pulling the key out of the ignition.

While your son has no issues getting into his car seat, he hasn’t gotten the hang of unbuckling it yet. He’s grateful when you free him from the confines, hopping out of the car with his little backpack, and running up to the front door. Even on his tiptoes he can’t quite reach the doorbell, so he settles on banging on the door with his little fists instead.

“Easy, Ev,” you say as you come up next to him. You go to press the doorbell but the front door swings open before you get the chance.

“Hey, I thought I heard the little monster out here!” Dustin grins and bends down, letting Everett run into his arms. “How you doing, kiddo?”

“Good!” Everett says as he wraps his arms around Dustin’s neck. “Got my dino.”

“Well, of course you do!” Dustin says. He lets go of the boy, who rushes past him into the living room. The loud hum of boys talking reaches you at the door and you nod your head inside.

“Whole crew here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dustin replies. “Oh, wait! Come here, you haven’t met everyone who’s here.”

Dustin closes the door behind you as you step inside. Your brow furrows in confusion as you slip your hands into your back pockets. The house smells like microwaved pizza and like one of the boys is wearing cheap cologne. It’s dark in the house, which makes you roll your eyes, because the boys always insist the room must be dark when playing DND.

“What do you mean? Not just Lucas, Mike, and Will?” you ask.

“We made a new friend,” Dustin says.

“A nerdy friend, I’m guessing,” you mumble under your breath as you follow Dustin into the living room. You can hear Everett babbling to someone, which doesn’t surprise you in the least. Besides you and Steve, his favorite people in the world are in this room.

“My sister!” Will cries as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You chuckle to yourself, forgetting when the joke that you were Will’s older sister even started. He’d always been like a little brother to you, so it came naturally enough. You turn your head to look at him and frown when you have to tilt your head up.

“Why are you still growing? You’re already taller than me,” you say.

“Have been for a few years now,” he says with a wink, and you playfully push him off you.

You expect to find Everett either clinging to Mike’s legs or being held in Lucas’s arms, but the two are arguing with each other on the opposite side of the room with no toddler in sight. Everett is never quiet, however, so you just have to turn yourself in the direction of his voice.

“M’not afraid of spiders!” he’s saying. “Spider-man is my favorite!”

Everett is leaning against a fluffy maroon couch cushion, his backpack at his feet, and his eyes focused on the boy sitting next to him. But he is not a boy. He’s a man, your age or maybe a year older. He’s grinning down at your son, the smile knocking the breath from you. You don’t think you’ve ever once swooned in your life, but that’s the best word you think of to describe the feeling. Dark curls fell just past his shoulders and his dark eyes – why did dark eyes haunt you everywhere? – crinkled in the corners as he listened to Everett.

“Yeah? I like spiders, too,” the man says. He adjusts his hand on his lap and the glinting of one of his rings catches Everett’s attention.

“S’pretty,” Everett says. He takes the man’s hand in his own little ones and inspects the different rings he’s wearing. You’re shocked. Everett is usually shy with new people. He’ll barely say hello to a stranger, let alone hold someone’s hand.

“Thank you,” he tells your son. He’s smiling so adoringly at Everett that it quickens your heartbeat even further.

“Eddie,” Dustin calls from behind you. The man picks his head up and looks at Dustin, before turning his gaze on you. He smiles again and you feel pinned in place.

“You must be this wonderful little boy’s mother,” he says. Everett lets go of his hand and walks over to you, hugging one of your legs. Eddie stands up from the couch and steps right in front of you, offering you his hand. “I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie,” Everett repeats down by your legs, causing Eddie to chuckle.

“Y/N,” you tell Eddie. You slip your hand in his and notice the roughness of callouses and the coolness of the rings as he shakes it.

“Eddie works down at the garage,” Dustin says, coming up alongside you. “He noticed the DND bumper sticker on my car when I brought it in the other day. Needless to say, we became fast friends. This was his first campaign with us.”

“You have far more patience than I do,” you tell Eddie. “When I try to play with them, they just yell at me.”

“Well, he actually knows what he’s doing,” Mike quips with a smirk as he walks by you.

“When’s that English paper due, Michael? You know, the one on Pride and Prejudice, which you haven’t even read? Didn’t you want me to help you with that?”

“I take it back!” Mike calls from the kitchen. “I love you!”

You smile to yourself and look back to Eddie, who’s smiling at you the same way he smiled at Everett. It should feel patronizing, to be smiled at the same way that a baby was, but it’s flattering. It’s an adoring smile which floods heat to your cheeks.

“I was going to ask how you put up with these guys, but I see you can handle them no problem,” Eddie says.

“Well, when you work at the library and they come there to study and beg you for help, you tend to have the upper hand,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie chuckles. He pats Dustin on the arm. “I’m heading out. Next Saturday, right?”

“Yeah! Look forward to you being the DM. Mike’s been doing it forever,” Dustin says.

“Heard that!” Mike calls.

Eddie crouches down to be on eyelevel with Everett. “It was nice to meet you, little dude. Can I get a high five?” Everett grins and slaps his hand against Eddie’s. It hardly could have hurt but Eddie shakes his hand out as if stung. “Wow! You’re a strong boy. You must eat all your vegetables.”

Everett looks up at you and grins, proud.

“That he does,” you say, petting along his hair. You crouch down as Eddie stands back up. “You’re going to be good for Uncle Dusty Bun, right?” Out of your peripheral vision you can see the smirk Eddie gives Dustin at the nickname.

“Mhmm,” Everett nods.

“Okay, good. I love you,” you press a kiss to his cheek and pull him into your arms.

He squeezes you back tightly and mumbles a “love you too” against your neck. You stand up and Everett takes Dustin’s hand, already dragging him back to the couch.

“Walk you out?” Eddie asks. He motions for you to head out first, so you do. You open the front door, and he steps out behind you. “He’s a cute kid.”

“Thanks,” you say. The two of you walk to the driveway together and Eddie leans against the van that your car is parked behind.

“But it makes sense, though,” Eddie says. “With a beautiful mom and all.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out from your chest and you look at the ground shyly. You feel the heat go all the way up to the tips of your ears. You’re about to respond by saying he looks more like his dad than he does you, but that might sound like you’re trying to interject Everett’s dad into the conversation as if the two of you are still together.

“Well, thanks,” you say again. You were never particularly good at flirting or being flirted with. Steve often used this to his advantage by flustering you on purpose and the look on Eddie’s face says he might be the kind of guy to do the same thing. “I guess I’m blocking you in. I should get going.”

“Do you often come by here on Saturdays?” Eddie asks as you start to turn away from him. You turn back and give him a smile.

“I’m not here for their DND days. Like I said, I get yelled at. But sometimes Dustin will watch him on Saturdays when I’ve got to head to work. Like today.”

“Libraries are open on the weekends?” Eddie asks.

“Saturday until three, Sunday closed,” you tell him with a shrug. “So, I only have to be there for a little while today.”

“You know, you don’t look like a librarian,” Eddie tells you with a smirk. He crosses his arms over his chest, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m not a librarian. I just work there. But out of curiosity, what do librarians look like?” You know you need to leave for work, but you walk over and lean next to Eddie against the van.

He shrugs, his leather jacket creaking with the movement. “You know. Usually old. Hair pulled up in a tight bun on the top of their head. Glasses hanging from a chain around their neck. Old lady sweaters and a permanent scowl on their face.”

You laugh and rest your head back against the van. “You just described my boss pretty well, so you may have a point.” With a sigh, you push yourself off the van. You didn’t want to head to work before, but now you really wish you didn’t have to go. “Um,” you say. You didn’t intend to say anything, but your mouth opened anyway. A lightbulb goes off in your head and you look at Eddie. “Dustin said you work at the garage, right?”

“Sure do.” Eddie nods in confirmation. “The one on Blossom Trail off Highway Eight. Or is it eighteen? I’m new to Hawkins.”

“Oh yeah? Where from?” you ask.

“Over near Evansville. My uncle lives out here, so I thought I’d see what Hawkins is all about,” he says.

“And are you sorely disappointed so far?” you ask with a laugh, gesturing to the quiet, empty street around you.

“Definitely not.” He grins at you again and the butterflies feel as if they may actually bust out of you this time. Eddie watches you get flustered again and you lick over your lips, remembering your initial question for him.

“So, what days do you work this week? I need to bring my car in for an oil change. The light keeps flashing and one of these days the car’s just gonna stop on me altogether.”

“For an oil change?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at you, then shakes his head. “Sweetheart, don’t bring your car in for that. I can do that for free. Save your money.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you say. Handouts were one thing you consistently tried to avoid since you’d found out you were pregnant. You hated feeling like people felt sorry for you when they didn’t need to. Was being a young mom hard? Yeah, but worth it.

“No, come on,” Eddie says. “They’ll charge you fees and taxes and for the labor when I’ve got the oil sitting right in my shed at home. Really, it’s just sitting there. It’ll go bad if it isn’t used.”

You had no idea if that was actually true or not, but Eddie was gambling that you didn’t have the knowledge to call his bluff one way or the other. Eddie’s pleading eyes are what push you over the edge. It seems impossible that here was another man with beautiful brown eyes who knew how to use them against you.

“Okay,” you finally cave. “Sure. I can bring it by your place.”

“Don’t be silly, I can swing by after work one day. You’re a mom, I’m not going to make you come to me and take time away from your kid.”

The thoughtfulness makes you smile. You motion for Eddie to follow you over to your car. He watches as you bend over into the car – his eyes taking their time – to grab your purse. After rifling through it, you pull out a pen.

“I don’t think I have any paper,” you say. Eddie grins and offers you his hand. You chuckle and take his hand in one of yours. There’s the slightest bit of grease stains under his short nails and his fingers are long, his palm large. You scribble your number onto his palm and stick the pen back in your purse. “I usually get home from work about six-thirty on weekdays and Ev goes to bed around eight.”

“I get home around seven, so that’s perfect timing. I’ll call you soon,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Monday if you want,” he says. “Or tomorrow. Hell, I’d call you tonight.”

The bashful grin on your face only makes Eddie want to flirt with and tease you more. It’s addictive in a way he didn’t know possible.

“I’m not sure what my plans are for tomorrow, so Monday works.”

“Monday it is,” Eddie confirms. “Have fun at work.”

“Bye.” You give him a small wave before getting in your car.

Steve had called you at work to say he was picking up Everett from Dustin’s and they’d be home for dinner. So, when you got home you had a precious hour that could have been spent relaxing, but one look around the apartment and you knew it needed to be used for cleaning. Action figures littered the living room carpet, colored pencils scattered about the coffee table, blocks with numbers and letters on them led down the hallway practically waiting for someone to step on them. It had been a while since you had last vacuumed so you figured you might as well get it over with.

It's in the middle of vacuuming Everett’s room that the front door opened and three people entered. Steve puts his finger to his lips to encourage Everett to be quiet as they creep down the hallway towards you. Nancy reaches out and smacks Steve on the back, telling him not to scare you. He shrugs and pretends that he can’t hear her over the vacuum as he follows Everett towards his room.

Normally, it was hard to sneak up on you. Steve had made it his mission to try and scare you way back before you even started dating. He, evidently, passed this trait along to his son as well. Even the vacuum wasn’t enough to keep you from hearing someone coming up behind you. But your mind was wandering as you pushed and pulled the appliance over the blue carpet. Was Eddie just a flirt in general? Or did he like you? Would he actually call on Monday? Was it a big deal if he didn’t? It was just an oil change, after all.

“Rawr!” Little hands grip your thigh, making you jump and let out a squeal. You cut the power to the vacuum and hear Everett giggling madly to himself and he holds your leg even tighter. “Scared you!” There’s laughter coming from the doorway as well and you turn to find Steve leaning against the doorframe, his arms casually across his chest, as if he had nothing to do with this sneak attack.

“What the f-,” you stutter, “fudge, Steve?”

“How did he get away with that when I never could?” Steve asks, referring to the successful scaring.

“Where’s your babysitter?” you snap back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy says, popping in the doorway behind Steve. “I tried to stop him but I think Everett is more mature.”

You smile at Nancy as you scoop Everett up into your arms. “I don’t blame you one bit, Nancy. You’re the only one around here who doesn’t drive me crazy.”

“Hey!” Steve and Everett say at the same time.

“You,” you say, looking at Everett. “It’s dinner time. What would you like?”

“Daddy wants pizza,” he says.

All eyes turn to Steve as he shrugs innocently. “I have no idea how he knows that.”

“You’re paying.”

“Deal,” Steve agrees. You set Everett down to follow his father into the kitchen to call for pizza.

Nancy walks into the room and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “You know he’s never going to let it go that he finally scared you?”

“I know.” You sigh and rest your head against hers.

Nancy was always a friend in high school, but never a close one. After Steve and Nancy broke up and Nancy moved on with Jonathan, Steve eventually found you. Becoming friends to more was easy with Steve, but it came with a catch. It was easy to go on fun dates and spend hours talking with Steve. It was easy to drive the younger teens around Hawkins with him, becoming the “mom” to his “dad” in the group – little did you know that those official titles were soon to come. It was easy to trust Steve because you already had as a friend. It was easy to fall into bed with him because you had always found him attractive and kind. What was hard, though, for both of you, was to fall in love. Being together for almost a year, most people assumed you two were madly in love. You definitely loved each other, but both of you knew deep inside it wasn’t the kind of love you should feel for someone you’re in a relationship with.

It was hard, deciding that the two of you should go back to being friends. You were in agreement that it wasn’t fair to one another to stay in a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. Two weeks after the breakup, in which you two still remained the best of friends, you discovered you were pregnant. Telling Steve was one of the most terrifying moments of your life, though you knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t let you do this alone. What you didn’t expect was how helpful Steve’s mom would be. Not only was she supportive of you and Steve deciding to raise the baby as friends, but she used her connections as the most well-known real estate agent in Hawkins to get you and Steve apartments in the same complex.

Nancy had been away at college while you were pregnant, hearing about the news from her brother who was stunned at there being someone who would be referring to him as “Uncle Mike.” When Nancy came home for summer break, she was elated to meet baby Everett. You were still pretty sure Nancy seeing how gentle and sweet Steve was with the newborn is what led them to getting back together – even battling long distance.

Steve was a little worried this might put tension between the two of you girls, but it was the opposite. Nancy became your closest friend, talking to you on the phone almost as much as she talked to Steve. She loved and cared about Everett but never tried to insert herself as a mother figure in his life. Everett loved playing with Nancy, especially when he saw how well she shot a water gun at his dad. Nancy was now home for the summer, having one more year to go at Emerson. Everett had been a little shy around her when she first came home, having not seen her since Spring Break, but he quickly warmed up and showed her every new toy he had gotten since she’d last seen him.

Everett was thrilled that Nancy was staying just in the next building with his dad. It meant they could go outside and play with his water guns anytime he wanted to. It was sweet to see Steve and Nancy with Everett, but it always left a melancholy taste in your mouth. It just reminded you that Nancy was the only person Steve had ever been in love with, and you had never been in love ever.

“You good?” Nancy asks you, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say. She pulls back and gives you a quizzical look. “What?”

“What is that smile on your face?” she asks. You didn’t even realize you had been smiling and immediately wipe it off your face.

“What, I can’t smile?” But you could feel your cheeks turning pink.

“Not like that,” Nancy says. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it sounds unconvincing to both of you. Nancy watches as you unplug the vacuum and wind up the cord. You walk past her to put the vacuum back in the hall closet and she follows behind.

“Something happen at work?” she asks with a smirk. Nancy was never nosey, but she could tell something was going on and she knew she could get you to spill.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” You turn to her and shrug, not quite meeting her eyes.

She smiles at you and reaches out to poke you in the ribs. “Oh, come on. You know you want to tell me.”

Glancing down the hallway to make sure the guys were still in the kitchen, you lean in towards Nancy and speak quietly. “Has Mike mentioned a new friend at their DND games?”

Nancy pulls back with a frown, that being far from what she thought would come out of your mouth. “Um, no. But to be fair, Mike doesn’t tell me a whole lot about his life. Why?”

You avoid her eyes as you lean back against the wall, head barely avoiding the framed pictures that hung there. “Well,” you start. “The guys have a new friend who plays DND with them.”

“Like a kid?” Nancy asks.

“Nope.” You shake your head, keeping your eyes on the kitchen doorway down the hall. “Like a guy. About our age.”

“Oh,” Nancy hums in understanding. “And you met him when you dropped by Dustin’s, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you confirm, still not looking at her. Nancy scoffs and grabs your arm, dragging you into your bedroom. She closes the door and rests her back against it.

“Spill,” she says.

You sit down on your bed and can’t help the smile that creeps on your face. “His name is Eddie. He’s going to come by this week and change the oil in my car.”

“Oh, is he now?” Nancy’s eyebrows raise and your face blooms red at the smirk on her face.

“Actual oil in my actual car!” You huff a laugh and rub your hands over your face. “He’s a mechanic. Dustin met him at the garage.”

“Is he cute?” Nancy moves from her spot against the door and sits down next to you on the bed. You bunch the yellow floral blanket in your fingers as you bite back an even bigger grin.

“Very,” you confirm. It feels nice to have a friend to talk about these things with. Yeah, there were girls in high school with you that you talked about boys with, but you were in a very different spot in your life than they were now. And Nancy was here and knew your life well. She’d become the best friend you’d ever had.

“When’s he coming by?”

“I gave him my number and he said he’d call Monday,” you say. You were about to tell her more about the conversation you’d had with Eddie but pounding started raining down on your bedroom door.

“Moooooooommy!”

“What’s up, buttercup?” you call through the door.

“Lemme in!”

“Excuse me?” you ask.

A tiny huff. “Can I come in pleeeease?”

You stand and open the door to find a little boy with a big smile staring up at you.

“Yes, sir?”

“Pizza’s coming!”

“Good. Know what you can do while we wait for it?” you ask.

“What?” he asks.

“Tell your daddy he needs to give you a bath.”

“Huh?” Steve asks, coming up behind Everett. He’s holding an apple with a bite missing and you remember why your son is constantly asking for snacks before dinner. “What do I have to do?” he asks through a mouthful of apple.

“Bath,” Everett says with a sigh.

“What?” Steve says as he looks down at Everett. “Why’d you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Boring,” Everett says.

“Nothing’s boring with me, you know that,” Steve tells him. He leans down and throws Everett over his shoulder. The little boy giggles and kicks his legs as Steve carries him to the bathroom.

“Please keep my bathroom dry!” you shout down the hall.

“No promises!” Steve answers.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #bbe

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bigbangclappin · 1 year

Text

Baby Daddy Gangster 2

Summary: Ding Dong! Your baby daddy is back and wants in your life and your daughter’s. And with that smile you might as well shove the door wide open.

Paring: Nakamoto YutaXReader(1st Person POV!)

Warnings: Cursing! Baby Daddy themes, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, Mafia/Yakuza themes (It’s not glamorous in real life folks!)

Word Count: 2,382

A/N: GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE! PART TWO! I hope it's enjoyable! I loved writing it! Let me know if we want a part three!

Tag List: @iveivory @champagne-n-yachts @dilfjohhny @junglewoos

Part one

Unknown number: Is Yuki wearing a 3T or a 4T?

You: Who is this?

Unknown number: Really baby?

I shook my head in exasperation, throwing my phone into my back pocket. The man was relentless to say the least, he did earn that title fair and square.

What could I have possibly been thinking back then?

Clearly sexual gratification was worth more to me than my hypothetical child’s future, because now here I am. Stuck with a gangster for a baby daddy who didn’t understand the phrase get lost.

I shrugged my shoulders, well there was nothing I could do to change who Yuki’s dad is now. I just had to live with the consequences of my actions.

Which wasn't all that bad considering my daughter was healthy and happy, I grinned as she played with her dolls on the floor. She did resemble her father, with her pretty smile and expressive eyes, she received all the best qualities of Yuta it seemed.

“Mommy?” Her sweet little voice asked from where she sat on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Guess what?”

I giggled because she loved to play guessing games ever since she could speak in almost full sentences. I never had the heart to discourage her playful chatter despite her daycare teacher’s warning about how it was becoming disruptive in class.

“What?” I replied casually, taking a sip from my drink.

“I met Daddy today.”

My entire mouthful of beverage was spewed across the room and on to my daughter who whines.

“Mommy ew!” She cried, wiping her little arms in disgust.

“Oh Yuki I’m so sorry sugar,” I snagged some paper towels from the kitchen and began cleaning her off.

“But what did you mean by you met Daddy?” I asked keeping my tone as even as possible. “You don’t have a Daddy, remember?”

She shook her head defiantly, her dark hair flying every which way, “I do have a Daddy mommy! And he’s pretty! And look he gived me a present!!”

My heart was racing as she flew to her small panda backpack. She rummaged through it for a moment before wobbling her way back to me with something in her tiny hand.

When the gold glinted in the light I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, he really went behind my back. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I shouldn’t have felt hurt either. Yuta was resourceful and clearly he used those resources to his advantage to find Yuki’s school.

The tiger bracelet in my daughter’s hand mocked me; after everything I had done to keep that God damned insignia out of her life he literally just dropped it in her hand like nothing.

Once a fucking bastard always a bastard.

It took all I had in me to not snatch the piece of gaudy jewelry out of Yuki’s hand and melt it in my fireplace. I took a very, long and deep breath in.

“Yuki, how did you get this?”

“I told you Mama,” She exasperated, “Daddy gived it to me”

“It’s gave love,” I corrected, “Where did he give it to you?”

She put her finger to her lips in thought, “Mr. Lee tooked us outside to play and dis really big car was dere. Den a big scary man got out, he was not nice Mommy, but den Daddy got out and yelled my name–”

“Yuki, that's dangerous, we've talked about not speaking to strangers!” I scolded her, literally stunned. My daughter was so trusting she basically ran into her father’s arms without question.

She recoiled at my tone and began playing with the little trinket on the bracelet out of nervousness, “But Daddy isn’t a stranger…”

I didn’t mean to scoff at my child but she had never met her father once, I know Yuki was sweet and that she was young but I couldn’t understand why she went against what I taught her for a man who is a complete stranger to her.

“Yuki,” I sighed, “You don’t have a daddy Sugar.”

Her cheeks turned red with a huff, “I do too!”

I put a hand to my forehead ready to end the man I had loved for most of my life. This is exactly why I wanted to keep him out of her life.

“Where was Mr. Lee?” I decided to change my questioning to keep her from getting any more upset.

“He came over after Daddy gived-gave me my present.”

“Did he say anything to…Daddy?” I literally had to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

It took Yuki a moment to respond before she said, “Mr. Lee picked me up and asked Daddy who he was.”

“Anything else?” I pushed knowing it was a little unfair to expect her to remember everything the men said or did but my three year old was my only witness.

“Ummmm yeah!” she said excitedly, “Daddy asked Mr. Lee why are you holding my daughter? And then Mr. Lee said dat I don’t have a daddy. But den Daddy showed Mr. Lee a piece of paper and Daddy told me that he would see me and mommy later and got in the big car again. ”

Oh Jesus Christ. He never changes. Over possessive asshole and what the hell did he show Yuki’s teacher? Such a jerk off move to use my kid as a way to exert some weirdo caveman claim on me.

This was a mess I did not agree to and it was stressing me out. I had no immediate fix to remedy Yuta throwing himself into Yuki’s life. I didn’t even have a clue on where to begin to unravel everything my baby daddy put into her head.

“Thanks baby,” I patted her head, “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

“Okay mommy.” she scooted off as I made off for the kitchen.

I never quite made it there because there was a knock on the front door. I sighed I didn’t want to deal with any door-to-door missionaries or salesmen. I went to check the peephole and saw my worst nightmare standing there.

Looking more delicious than the last time I had seen him. Tight ass tshirt hugging his pecs and abs. His organization’s tattoos were covered by the jacket he wore all but the ones on his neck. That same damn tiger he gave to Yuki was peeking over his shirt collar like a damn slap to my face.

Against my better judgment I opened the door. I had a bone to pick with him about going behind my back.

“So you’re a stalker now?” I asked with a strong bite.

He flashed his panty dropping smile at me as he smashed the cigarette he was smoking out under his fancy loafers.

“Only for you baby,” he poked at me with that cheeky tone, “And of course our beautiful Yuki.”

I frowned in anger instantly, “You had no right to go to her school Yuta.”

He tsked, “Why not? Because you said so? Last time I checked I never signed over my parental rights.”

“Are you serious right now?” I gasped in shock, “You abandoned us not an hour after she took her first breath! You never came out of the shadows to do anything with her! As far as I am concerned you did sign off on any kind of rights or relationship.”

His cheeks flushed red which meant he was starting to lose his temper. A real shocker.

“You have no idea the threats I was facing at work, I abandoned our family so that you and our daughter wouldn’t get hurt or worse.”

“Why weren’t you honest with me then? I would’ve understood if it came down to her safety—”

“You’re full of it babe you gave me a hard time whenever I uttered a single word about the family. If I had told you the truth at the time you would’ve ran and I would have never been able to keep tabs on you and Yuki like I’ve been able to since she was born. At least this way I could be with you during your pregnancy and keep you both safe even if that meant I couldn’t be with you after you gave birth to her.”

My head was spinning and I felt like I was being gaslighted, “When I told you I was pregnant you told me to get an abortion.”

He let out a hum, “And when you slapped me across my face that was the end of it. I knew how serious you were about wanting her. I never said another word about it.”

“You’re literally insane…” I mumbled running an entirely confused hand through my hair.

“No doubt about that babe you knew that when we got together back in school. Now that we’ve cleared the air may I please come in and see our daughter? I brought gifts…and since you chose to be petty and ignore me about what size she is I also brought gift receipts.”

I finally noticed the large men standing off to the side with armfuls of gift bags, large, small, medium, mostly girly in prints and pinks. Oh my god he’s bribing my kid, he’s seriously bribing my daughter.

“Yuta do you realize how confusing this must be for her? Like you were nonexistent in her three years of life and just want to pop in with presents and pretend like you were always there? That’s not fair to her, just because you’re her biological father doesn't automatically mean you have a relationship with her. And while we’re on the subject, what the hell did you show to Mark?”

Yuta ticked his jaw to the side and licked his lips; he was angry for sure.

“Who the fuck is Mark?” He snapped at me some of his cool demeanor flying out the window.

Jealous. Again. Over someone who watches Yuki. Utterly ridiculous.

“Yuki’s teacher, remember?” I bit back, “You shoved something in his face, what was it?”

“Her fucking birth certificate,” he said with a clenched jaw, “So you’re on a first name basis with all of her teachers then?”

“Nakamoto Yuta,” I spat, “Enough with your petty jealousy it’s irritating and irrational and also unwarranted.”

“Apparently it isn’t if you’re on a first name basis with her teacher.”

I was 1000% over his childish attitude. This wasn’t the first time we argued over his tendency to get jealous.

“Have a lovely evening Yuta,” I started to close the door but one of the beefy men blocked me from slamming it in my baby daddy’s face.

Yuta snapped at the man in Japanese but looked back to me, “Let me in to see our daughter (Y/n).”

“I didn’t bow to you three years ago and I’m certainly not doing it now,” I growled at him, “You can’t snap your fingers and expect me to jump for you like a dog.”

He ran a hand through his dark shaggy hair in anger, “I expect you to let me have a relationship with our daughter.”

I folded my arms across my chest in means of frustration and protection, “What’s your endgame here Yuta?”

“There’s no endgame here (Y/n) but wanting a relationship with Yuki.”

“Why now though Yuta?” I questioned him with my head tilted.

He opened his mouth to answer when a small cry came from behind me. “Daddy!”

I blocked my daughter’s view by placing my legs in front of the small slot made by the door, “Look what you’ve done. How am I supposed to explain to her that you left when you inevitably leave again?”

The look on his face was a mixture of anger and hurt with his jaw clenched he said, “What I did to keep you and Yuki safe should not be what you hold against me (Y/n), I’ve done a lot of things to warrant your resentment but this is not one of them I promise. You chose me too, you know? It takes two people to have a baby.”

“It’s not my fault the condom broke Yuta…” I growled quietly and my eyes shifted toward my elderly neighbor who was out walking her Poodle. Apparently I wasn’t quiet enough since she gave us an affronted look on her way by.

“It’s your fault you weren’t taking the pill babe,” he said just as angry, “We can point fingers all we want but it’s a little late for the blame game don’t you think? All I want is to see our daughter. Regardless of our past, Yuki has the right to a father.”

My daughter began swatting my legs so she could get to Yuta, “Mommy I wanna see Daddy. Move please!”

I scoffed at how rude my daughter was, “Yuki, that's not how we ask to get by, telling someone to move is impolite.”

“Sorry Mommy but Daddy’s here!”

“Sugar I’ve already told you that you do not have a–”

“(Y/n) don’t you dare finish that sentence. You’re the one that’s going to confuse her. Come here my baby girl, I brought you something!”

My blood boiled as I watched my baby daddy pick my little girl up and kiss her cheek while letting her peek into one of the large gift bags. I couldn’t resist the little smile that poked through at her excited squeal, her happiness was contagious.

My stomach may have done a flip when I noticed the soft look on my ex’s face as he helped Yuki rifle through the clothes he had bought her. It was probably just wishful thinking on my part, but seeing him hold my child just felt natural.

I awkwardly made eye contact with another neighbor who lived across the way and even with the distance I could see the judgmental look on his face. I sighed, finally relenting to let the men in. I didn’t want anyone to report me to the landlord on suspicious activity.

I pushed the door aside and motioned to Yuta, “Come inside, people are staring.”

He gave me that gorgeous smile that got me pregnant in the first place, “Thanks baby.”

As I allowed his guards inside I knew I was going to live to regret my decision but what could one visit hurt?

A lot.

It could hurt a lot.

#nakamoto yuta #yuta nct127 #kpop scenarios #bigbangclappin #nakamoto yuta angst #nakamoto yuta smut #nakamoto yuta imagine #nakamoto yuta mafia au #nct mafia au #yakuza au #nct 127 angst #nct au #nct gang au #nct 127 au #kpop angst

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

Work for It || valentine's day piece #3

pairing: shuri ✘ black!reader

summary: signs point to shuri having forgotten valentine's day, until she decides to surprise you. (requested)

word count: 4.5k

contains: smut (18+) with minimal plot, sub!shuri (because duh), dom!reader, choking, oral (shuri receiving), face sitting, squirting, overstimulation, reader is a little mean, orgasm denial, fingering, praise!kink

tags: @verachii @szalipcombo @rxcently @coolestgay @widowmakker @fetchyourlife @blackgcomica @n7cje @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @shinsousliya @bratydoll @shuriri4life @letitias-fav @axailslink @chidinma @xoxo-dede @percsane @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @quintessencewrites @adeola-the-explorer @dejaonline @bubshri @zayswriting @la-reine-insane @shurisjournal @shurismainbxtch @playhousedistee @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan @pinkwright

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: this one has a tiny bit of plot because it was a request, but like it really don't fr. sub!shuri, you already know how i feel about you! last valentines piece, i hope y'all enjoyed everything. i slaved over the stove to cook these up.

translations: sthandwa - my love, mtuwam - my person, ndiyacela - please, sphalaphala sam - my pretty one

You smiled to yourself, adding the finishing touches to the Valentine’s Day gift box you curated specifically for Shuri. It was stuffed full of her favorite candies and a hand-crafted bouquet of chocolate bars. You added in a few fidget toys for her to play with at her desk, and there was a bear made entirely of lavender roses. And then there were the cookies you baked, cookies that mirrored the shape of the purple herb she’d recently ingested.

It was fitting you thought, and very on-theme. This was your first Valentine’s Day as a couple and you wanted Shuri to feel special, like she was the only girl in the world. Because she was, Shuri was the only woman you ever saw. Her presence was all you wanted to know.

Truthfully though, you were a little nervous about the upcoming holiday. Valentine’s Day was less than twenty-four hours away and not once did Shuri mention it. There was no utterance of spending the day together, having dinner, other activities. It worried you, but to ease your mind you convinced yourself she had a surprise planned. It wasn't illogical to assume, she'd surprised you in the past, and there was potential for her to do that now. That would only be possible however, if she ever stepped out of that lab of hers.

You were headed there now anyway, the plan was to ask her to be your Valentine using the cookies. It was the cutest idea, scribbling the question across the dessert and presenting it to your girlfriend. You giggled at the thought, blushing profusely as you placed the iced cookie in a small decorative container. Shuri was going to love it.

•••

“Princess, you have a guest.” You stepped into the lab sporting a large grin, one that was impossible to wipe away. There she sat, eyebrows knitted in concentration. It was adorable. She was aware of your arrival, and she acknowledged the AI’s announcement, but she didn't look up from her work. Shuri tinkered with an old design of her gauntlets, their distinct panther shape made them easy to identify as you crept up behind her.

She chuckled softly, finally speaking to you. “Are you attempting to sneak up on me, mtuwam?”

You giggled, kissing her cheek softly, “No.”

“Good, because that wouldn't be very smart.”

You pulled up a seat next to her, frowning a little for dramatics. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“Well, I mean…”

You gasped, appalled by the quickness of her response. “Shuri!” You threw the closest thing you could find at her, which just so happened to be a tiny screw sitting on the sleek table top. It was ineffective in its ability to cause harm, but your point was made nonetheless.

Shuri doubled over in laughter and you could only scowl at her. How dare she? “I'm sorry, my love. It was a joke, you know I adore your mind.”

“Mhmm.”

Her eyes shifted to the container of cookies and they lit instantly. She was hungry, there was no doubt there. Shuri had a terrible habit of forgetting to eat when she found herself entirely focused on a project, and it was up to you to make sure she didn't wither away. “Are those for me?”

“They were for you. But I don't think I want you to have them anymore.”

She copied your frown, adding a pout she knew you couldn't deny and you rolled your eyes. “Come on. I said I was sorry, you don't have to be like that.”

“I don't accept your apology.” It was a lie, you knew it, Shuri knew it. You hated her ability to read you so. It wasn't fair, at least not in this case.

She smirked, scooting her chair closer to you and the fresh cookies. “You are a terrible liar.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, working swiftly with your retort, “And you're a terrible girlfriend.”

“Ouch. But I will allow that if it means I get to have one of those.” She smiled at you, and your strength to deny her waned the longer that pretty face held your gaze. It wasn’t long before you cracked, grabbing the container and popping the lid off begrudgingly.

The aroma of fresh baked goods created a fog around the both of you and you watched the way Shuri inhaled the scent, letting it waft inside her and slither into her depths. You plucked one off the top, the special one, and biting back your grin seemed impossible. You stuck it out to her timidly, hanging your head, and she received it with sheer excitement. “Yes!”

Thundering in your chest made concentrating difficult. There was a speech, you’re sure. It was seared into your mind, but now, the words did not exist.

“This is a special cookie I–” When you lifted your head, you were astonished to find your girlfriend dusting the crumbs off her hands and reaching for another. “Shuri.”

“That was delicious. Can I have another one?”

You tilted your head, perplexed. That was the only way to describe your feelings as you sat before her. “Shuri.”

“Yes?” Her focus was hardly on you, her attention centered around the cookies you made for her. Something bubbled inside your chest, a familiar feeling that had never once emerged around Shuri. Annoyance. You were annoyed with Shuri.

You eyed her calmly, exhaling softly. “Did you look at it? The cookie?”

“What? Oh, love, they’re tiny heart-shaped herbs! That is amazing mtuwam, your talent for baking should really be studied.”

Her excitement was genuine, that you were certain of, and it made the task of being annoyed with her all the more challenging. You were in new territory, being upset with Shuri was foreign. Her eyes were still on you, she was still smiling, blissfully ignorant of her wrongdoing. There was no desire to yell at her, but you sure wished there was. Instead, there was only urge to kiss her goodnight and leave the lab quietly. “Do you happen to know what tomorrow is, Princess?”

The formal use of her title to address her was not a thing you did, not ever. She had always been Shuri to you, even before when you were only friends, she was your Shuri. So of course, this confused her. Shuri raised her brow, clearly racking her brain for the correct answer, the one you wanted her to respond with.

“Um, Tuesday?”

And that solidified it all for you. Shuri had forgotten Valentine’s Day. Normally, something like this would not be a big deal, but seeing as it was your first as a couple, you expected a lot more on her end. Especially considering all the work you put in for her. No matter, if Shuri had forgotten, why didn’t you also get that choice? To forget. Forget the cookies, the gifts, all of it.

You plastered a toothy grin on your face, cracking the scowl you were sure she witnessed moments ago. A simple nod, that’s the thing that jarred her. She was aware she fucked up, the reason was still absent in her mind, but Shuri was always aware of when you were upset. She’d never had to deal with those feelings being directed at her though, and she was struggling through an internal panic. Her face said it all. “You are correct, tomorrow is Tuesday, my love.”

You stood and Shuri flinched, trying her hardest to dodge your daggered words.

“I can’t help but feel like I’ve upset you, mtuwam.”

You shook your head, placing a kiss atop her braids. “I’m fine. Here, have the rest of the cookies.”

Your actions contrasted your words entirely. Shuri knew you were in no way fine, and the harsh way you shoved the bowl into her chest concreted her observation.

“See you when you get home.” Malice laced every syllable as you strode out of her space and back onto the elevator. You knew she watched you leave, her stare was always recognizable. Entering on a high and leaving on a low was not in the cards you had selected for yourself.

•••

The next morning, you were up and out the door before Shuri. She’d crept into bed late, nestling into you as a form of apology, or at least it was the conclusion you'd drawn. You allowed her to cuddle you, there was nary a night she went without sleeping in your arms, and it would never be your plan to deny her now. Even if you were still irritated with her, and you were.

It was the first night gone to bed without some sort of sexual contact, and it only added to your frustration. Stopping your brain from mulling over the entire ordeal was a task you could not complete. Maybe you were being dramatic, maybe you should cut her some slack. You knew how her mind worked, you didn't understand it, but you were acutely aware of how she functioned. So of course a silly little holiday like Valentine’s Day would slip her mind?

It didn't make sense to you though, you knew how Shuri's mind worked. Forgetting your first Valentine's together was not like her. She paid attention to everything. Shuri was strategic, she was a planner. How could she miss this?

That's why it hurt, you guessed. Because Shuri was indeed a planner, and if she truly cared, something would've been planned. But she didn't. And it wasn't.

The day dragged on without so much as a call from Shuri, and by the time you arrived home from work, you were quite literally over the entire so-called ‘day of love.’ Your co-workers received flowers and chocolate from their partners, and all your brain conjured was the image of Shuri’s gift stuffed behind your shoes in the closet.

It was dark when you slid the front door open, darker than it should be. “Griot, lights please.”

They flicked on, and there stood a hopeful Shuri surrounded by custom pink balloons, holding the largest arrangement of Sunflowers you’d ever seen. She'd hand picked them from your garden and the sight of their beauty almost made you crack. Shuri was not playing fair, she knew how emotional you became over your garden and your flowers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mtuwam.”

You said nothing, only eyeing her nervous figure up and down. Her eyes fell to something on the table and you followed them. A box, similar size to the one you had made for her, but this one was… techy. It was of her creation. Curiosity bubbled in your chest, but you had to remember what that same emotion did to an innocent cat all those whiles ago.

“You can open it. It's for you.” Her chuckle was anxious and uncertain. You liked that. “I know what I said yesterday, about not knowing what today was. Obviously that was a lie.”

Your words stayed locked away. You lifted the lid and peered down at its contents. The corner of your mouth twitched only slightly, and you were quick to put a stop to it.

Her vibranium gauntlets stared back at you, glinting under the kitchen light. They were pretty, but that was a given. You loved them, wanted to touch them, hold them. But she would not receive that satisfaction.

“I updated them for you. I want you to have them, my love.”

Her eyes pleaded with you, want spilling from her sockets. Shuri wanted you. She wanted you to forgive her, which you had already done the moment you saw her. Anger at your girlfriend was a short-lived thing, you'd discerned. And perhaps you preferred it so.

“Say something, ndiyacela.” A half smile decorated her face and you took note of the hesitancy there. Shuri did not plan to show enjoyment until she was certain the two of you were on the exact same page. You were, but she was unaware, and you wanted to keep it that way for a while longer.

You let your fingers trace the lustrous black box, running the tips along the purple trimmings. “Hmm.”

“Hmm? What is hmm?”

Avoiding her eyes was the task. If her brown globes locked on yours a moment before you were ready for them to, she’d know. Because Shuri knew you. “It's a nice box. A satisfactory last minute gift I suppose.”

“My love, it was not last minute. I’ve had this planned for weeks.”

“Weeks?” You reached for one of the gauntlets sitting pretty in the box, picking it up and inspecting it with faux boredom.

Shuri nodded, stepping closer to you. “Weeks.”

She caught your eyes then and her smile spread slowly across those lips you loved dearly. It didn't even take a second to register, Shuri knew instantly that she was once again in your good graces. “Is that gift hidden terribly in the back of our closet for me?”

“No.”

She snaked her arms around your waist, yanking you close as she ghosted the press of her lips over yours. “Liar.”

“It was supposed to be yours, but then you–”

She smirked, “Ate your Valentine’s cookie without answering the question you’d written on it?”

She laughed at the understanding coloring your face and you smacked her, “So you did see it!”

“I did. It was cute. And the answer is yes by the way, I would love nothing more than to be your valentine.”

You couldn't help your squeal and Shuri laughed again. She kissed you desperately and you felt the want radiating off her. “Does that mean I get to fuck you now?”

Shuri exhaled, “Bast, I hope so.”

You tugged on her top, and she ridded her body of it in assistance, allowing your excited lips to back her all the way into your bedroom. You shoved Shuri hard onto the mattress and she bounced. Words were not necessary for her to know you needed her naked. Her bottoms came off and so did her panties, and she waited patiently for you. Shuri was going to need a lot of that tonight, patience.

Once undressed, you stalked toward her on the bed. Shuri laid back expectantly and you gripped her knees, spreading her wide. She was so drenched and her hole was beyond eager for you. “Lying to me was quite the choice. Not a smart one, but a choice all the same.”

“It wasn't the best idea, I’m not afraid to admit that.” She giggled, opening herself wider. Shuri's folds sparkled below you, and you wrestled with the urge to sink your tongue deep inside her.

You reached forward, clasping her throat in your fist right before she sucked in her last gust of oxygen. For a while you just held her like that. She looked so pretty like that. “Nod if you're okay.”

She followed your instructions, bobbing her head up and down in response and you smirked. You pulled her upwards by her neck, loosening your squeeze some. That little gasp, you listened for it, and it came immediately on cue. She breathed in what she could, leaving everything else up to chance. Shuri left her consciousness up to chance when she was with you.

You held onto her throat as you kissed her roughly and she smiled into it. Needy whines picked up, Shuri’s whines, and they were beginning to get to you. Holding off on touching her where she needed you most was the goal, but doing so was proving to be difficult. Your own frustration was at play, not just Shuri’s, and you did want her.

Her body fell backwards when you let her go, and her huge intake of air pleased you. “Do you want me to touch you, love?”

“Yes.” A rushed response.

Your lips connected with her cheek, pecking lightly and she sighed into it. It was the tenderness, this lulled her. That peck was your softest gesture yet, so Shuri clung to it. “Where?”

Tattooed fingers dove into her ocean as she showed you where she wanted you. It was the sexiest thing, seeing Shuri please herself in front of you. Unashamed. Undeterred. She flicked her clit, whining from the pressure build.

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me.” Shuri rolled her erect nipple between her digits, pinching hard on her bud. It was easy for Shuri to get lost in her own bliss, she did it often, and it happened swiftly. She would do anything to quell her arousal. You watched from above as she circled her core, massaging tenderly. Her wetness was audible, you loved hearing her pussy, loved hearing how wet she got for you.

She thrashed about, wailing in that indicating way; her orgasm was near. Shuri readied her fingers at her entrance, needing to be filled and you permitted it with a kiss. You permitted the image of it, her preparation. The act itself however, you did not allow to occur. You smacked at her hand, moving it from her hole and she whined.

“You don't get to do that, you have not earned it.”

Your lips collided with hers and she moaned out, surprised. Her core heaved for you, and you responded with flattery, pushing through her wetness to tease her nub a bit. You kept her tongue in your mouth the entire time, sucking faintly on it as you allowed her juices to coat your hand. Shuri whimpered beneath you, her body spasming, and you could tell that same impending release was attempting to break free. You wouldn’t have that.

“Please love…” She whined and you locked eyes with her. You sunk a single digit into her hole and Shuri screeched. “More!”

“Do you think you deserve more?” Another slipped in, and slowly, you fucked her with your fingers. She kept her eyes on you, and that glint sparked something, her yearning glare awoke a carnal desire within you. She said nothing and a smirk curled your lips. “Are you planning to answer me?”

Shuri nodded, and it shocked you. “Oh?”

You pulled her nipple into your mouth, teeth grazing it lightly. Shuri’s exhale was shaky, desperate. The tone of her breath was familiar, it was a contemplating one. She was at a loss. On one hand, you knew she wanted to obey you, craved it even. But on the other, she was desperate to come, and you were not moving at a pace she liked.

Pushing off her, you settled your back against the cool headboard, spreading your legs and gesturing for her to slip herself between you. Shuri’s back pressed to your front, head on your chest, and immediately, your fingers were in her cunt again. You taunted her clit, slowly working your way to her leaking hole. A harsh tug on her neck made her face you and her response was a startled gasp.

“Do you think you deserve more than what I am giving you, sthandwa? Am I being unfair?” This time she answered correctly, shaking her head as you scissored your fingers inside of her. Her moans carried, they rang in your ears and climbed the walls, drilling claws into their very foundation. Shuri pushed her fingers through your locs, pulling your head down for a passionate kiss. The intensity of it made you want to let up, you wanted to allow her to come. You held tight to her jaw as you worked her, sinking the tips of your fingers further into her slickness.

“Tell me when you’re close.” You whispered it into her ear, and she nodded. She opened her legs wider for you, wanting you to have the best angle possible. Seeing her this desperate to be pleased was new, usually you granted all of her requests, but that was not the case now. You wanted her to suffer in this moment, you got off on the thought of building her up and refusing to knock her down. It was her price to pay, that neglect she caused you to feel would be reflected in your unwillingness to let her come.

Your own juices trickled down Shuri’s back and she pressed into the feeling, wanting to please you however she could in this state. “I’m close for you!”

The sloshing increased with your thrusts and you sucked on her bottom lip. Those whimpers of hers, sinister sounds, tempting sounds. Shuri’s hips wiggled as her orgasm neared. She panted into your mouth and the sensation of her heated breaths slithering down your throat released a cry of your own. Pulling back from the kiss, you watched her body react to you, to your touch. Shuri was a writhing mess for you as you stroked her clit.

“I’m going–” Your digits departed and Shuri heaved, furious about being denied again.

“Only good girls get to come, my love, and you have been everything but.”

You kept her there, sat in between your sweaty thighs as you sucked her neck. Your digits left her pussy and you rammed them into her gaping mouth with the instruction to suck. She obliged, because why would she not, and she hummed around them. Shuri’s tongue swirled your fingertips and you moaned. She was happy to make you moan, finding your eyes immediately at the sound. She watched you desperately, sucking and lapping on the two fingers stuffed inside her mouth. “Now that’s a good girl.”

She released them reluctantly. You’d never met someone more fond of their own flavor than your girlfriend.

“I need you on my face, sphalaphala sam. Now.”

Shuri shot up swiftly, allowing you to lay on your back before scaling your face. She hovered some, but once relaxed, she settled all of her weight onto you. Hunger drove your tongue, and instinctively, it surged into her dripping hole. Her muscles clenched around you almost immediately and you laughed into her cunt.

“Feels so good!”

She grinded into you, spilling her wetness all over you, and you wouldn't dare have it any other way. You suckled her hard clit and her hips jerked. “You make me feel so good!”

Your grip on Shuri's waist was firm as you guided her and she threw her head back. Fighting your own arousal was a thing of the past. Here Shuri was, riding your tongue, sopping for you, and you could come untouched just from the mere feel of her warm pussy juices in your mouth. The bed rocked in tandem with Shuri’s hip rolls and she screamed. That strength of hers, truly something amazing. Particularly now, as she submitted to you fully. You wondered what Wakanda would think of their fearless protector, if they witnessed her like this.

Her hands left the headboard she held for support and found her breasts, tugging and caressing them as hopes of an orgasm drove her forward.

You squeezed her ass and she yelped, sinking her teeth deep into her bottom lip. Hums from your own moans echoed into her, tipping, tipping, tipping. “I'm close! Please can I come? I will be so good for you, the best! If you let me come plee-ease!”

Peering up at her was a decision that paid off. She looked heavenly atop you, like she was floating, which you were sure she was from the pleasure rush. You nodded, even with her eyes slammed shut she felt it, and Shuri did not hold back. With permission granted, Shuri squirted all over your face. It was truly a thing of dreams.

That last scream should've been your warning. It traveled from deep inside her, you could tell by its weight, its power. Her babbling, the expelling of her release, and your hefty breaths resounded in the bedroom. A chorus created by you both.

If you weren't careful, you could drown. But in reality, it wasn't a thing that deterred you. Her clit was in your mouth still, and you sucked Shuri through her orgasm. She squirmed for you, whined for you. She wanted you to stop, needed it, but this was no longer about her needs or wants. She got what she sought after, and now it was your turn.

Shuri's collapse was graceful, catlike. Fitting. She cascaded backward, landing on your stomach, and her cum-filled cunt sat directly in your face. Perfect. This was exactly where you needed her. You pulled her closer, so close that the smell of her used pussy was the only thing you were able to breathe in. It was the only air you needed.

A sharp lick jolted her up, followed by a gasp. Shuri shook her head, and you raised a brow, daring her to challenge you. Of course, she conceded, allowing you to dive back in. She held your gaze for the duration, propping herself up on her elbows to enjoy the show. When you swallowed her clit, Shuri lost it, attempting to cover her center with a palm. “I–I”

“Shuri. Move your hand.” She hesitated some, and you almost felt bad for her and her exhausted clit. Almost. “Move your hand, Princess.”

There was no disobeying that order. Shuri did as she was told and you smirked. “What a perfect girl you are.”

Your praise elated her and she nodded. “I'm your perfect girl!”

Her hips bucked into your face, and you dragged your tongue through her sticky swollen folds. Shuri's quivering pushed you to continue, her frailness, that's what drove you. You wanted to keep her that way. “Do you know what perfect girls get?”

Her chest heaved as she panted for you, and she shook her head.

Your tongue lapped her before you answered, tasting every drop her body secreted. “Perfect girls get to squirt in my face again. Would you enjoy doing that, Princess Shuri? Hmm?”

Shuri's answer was only to please you, she said yes only because she wanted you satisfied and you adored her even more for it. Your slurp was gentler this go round, taking note of her sensitivity. One arm left her hip, making its way to her entrance. Her elbows gave out a while back, Shuri was now resting on your shins, thrashing under your stimulating touch.

“Mhmm. Perform for me, perfect girl.” Her floundering turned you on. Even with the strength of the panther, Shuri could not fight you off, she could not wiggle from your grip as you ate her pussy. There was no other option but to flail and take it, take it all.

Her back arched from the thrusting of three digits inside her. It was too much for her. Too bad. Her second attempt to block your mouth came with a smack. “I've warned you about that hand already, sthandwa. Move it.”

She snatched it back, allowing you to continue devouring her. “I love the taste of you.”

“I’m going to come! I'm goin–” Again, the dams exploded and Shuri was soaking your already drenched face. That gut-wrenching cry she released was thunderous, deafening. You held onto her just because. You needed her pussy near, needed it close to you.

When she finally freed herself, your girlfriend curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. She flinched when you touched her. “Are you alright my sweet?”

A lone nod. That's all you got as she shook. “Just need a m-moment.” And you granted her that moment willingly, but not before cooing praises into her temple as you kissed it.

“I love you so so much Shuri. So much.”

After Shuri calmed, she latched onto you. She was still a little out of it. “Did you mean what you said? Am I your perfect girl?”

You chuckled deeply before kissing her. “You are my most perfect girl, sphalaphala sam.”

#shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri x black!fem reader #shuri x black!reader #valentines2023 #shuri x f!reader #lyricswriting #myworks #shuri x plus size!reader #shuri x y/n #shuri smut #shuri x you #letitia wright #black panther #wakanda forever #bpwf #sub!shuri #bottom!shuri

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suffermaze · 2 months

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rose petals | steve harrington

summary: It's international women's day and you really believe that Steve forgot about it, so instead you decide to surprise him. 1,8k.

You spent the entire day hearing greetings and compliments from everyone, here and there. It was a special occasion, after all, and even though you deserved to hear those things every day and felt annoyed by the lack of recognition on any other day, it felt good to be seen and appreciated.

Yet, the only thing you truly couldn't wait for was to get home and find your boyfriend waiting for you with open arms. Even though you hadn't planned to receive a surprise or anything like that, the anticipation made your stomach flutter slightly, and it was inevitable.

Along the way, you came across several shops decorated with hearts, and ironically, only women working in them. You decided that all that appearance of someone caring was just utter nonsense.

You went into a flower shop and made sure to buy a rose because this year would be different; you would be the one to surprise him, even if it was just a silly gesture that wouldn't directly affect anything except the local commerce by buying that simple flower.

Finally arriving home, you tried to listen through the keyhole if Steve was up to something with his habit of talking to himself, or if you could hear any noises indicating that he was preparing something, but strangely, there was nothing but silence.

Frowning, you hesitantly held the doorknob and pushed the door open, which creaked slightly due to your delicacy in pushing it forward, but it didn't elicit any apparent reaction.

Gently, you entered your living room more and more, step by step on tiptoes, just to find the dark-haired lying on the couch, his cheek squished against the soft pillow and a light crochet blanket covering his massive body, which was all squeezed on the too-small sofa.

You let out a sigh, watching him sleep there so quietly, like an angel, the warm yellowish light softly illuminating his face, highlighting the tiny freckles, with so much tranquility in his breathing. It was exactly like observing the sky on a summer night, serene, the stars seeming to shine even brighter after the warm sun of the day. That feeling always washed over you every time your eyes fell on Steve.

You approach slowly, looking around involuntarily a few times, hoping to find a trace of some present or maybe just a piece of chocolate, but nothing…

Before you can get close enough to sit, the boy senses your presence and wakes up with a start, making you startle too and a little scream escapes from both sides. You end up falling on top of him on the couch, making him laugh as he hugs you tightly, trying to pull you almost inside him.

"God, I missed you," he says, his face buried in your neck, trying to imprint your scent in his brain, even though you were already a vivid memory in the boy's mind. Every detail, line, freckle, strand of hair, habit, scent. Steve knew it all, and yet he never tired of remembering it every day.

"But did you? You were pretty sleepy to be thinking about anything at all," you tease, chuckling softly and lifting yourself just to stare at him with narrowed eyes, almost challenging him.

"But I was dreaming about you the whole time," he easily deflects your accusation, raising his eyebrows as if expecting approval for saying the "right thing", and that just makes you roll your eyes, though you couldn't hide a silly smile.

"I have something for you," your voice sounds eager, and you can perceive the quick change in the sleepy boy's gaze, who suddenly becomes alert. The only thing crossing Steve's mind is how screwed he was because if you brought a gift, it means he had forgotten something, and that couldn't be good.

Even though you weren't one of those girlfriends who cared so much, you also forgot a date or two and never used to demand anything from the boy. Having him with you there every day was more than enough.

Steve, on the other hand, was the kind of person who made sure to make you feel special even on days that had no event or festivity. He loved to see your eyes sparkling like a child receiving their favorite present on Christmas.

He smiles, trying to disguise it, and you have to control yourself as much as you can not to burst into laughter at the situation. Finally, you had won that competition that wasn't really a competition, but still left you feeling proud.

"Well, since in our relationship you're obviously the feminine one..." you say, looking at him with a mischievous smile and playful eyes, receiving a bored look in return and crossed arms. Then you finally hand him the rose you had set aside. "Happy Women's Day!"

And he takes several long seconds staring at you dumbfounded while you try your hardest to keep from laughing, pressing your lips together. The rose firm in hand, and you can see his cheeks turning redder in no time, giving away that he had actually loved receiving the gift.

"Oh really?" he says, taking a deep breath and looking back into your eyes, the boy's teeth clenched in mock anger and his eyebrows raised almost as if challenging you.

"Oh, really." you reply in advance, your smile growing wider and wider, trying to hold back from laughing in advance because you knew exactly what was going through the boy's mind as he looked at you like that.

"So I guess you could easily get rid of me, huh?" he says, throwing himself on top of you once again before you could anticipate any feeling, his arms locking yours and letting all the weight of his body relax on top of yours, which was much smaller and weaker.

"No! Steve! Get off me!" you automatically shout, trying to hold out for a while before starting to laugh and becoming even weaker to push the boy away. Obviously, as soon as he realizes, he holds back a bit to avoid actually hurting you, but it's still hard to breathe while your organs feel like they're being crushed under him. But he ignores it and just keeps laughing, burying his face in your neck once again just to spread kisses there that tickle your soft skin, making you laugh louder. "Steve! Stop!"

You keep yelling as you try to get rid of the stronger arms, but it's in vain. It doesn't take long for him to notice how fast your heart is beating and how red your face is and understand that it's time to stop. So, he pulls you up, still trapped in his arms, and nestles you in his lap, still planting a few kisses on your lips as you catch your breath and giggle softly.

"How can I make it up to you?" he then asks, breaking the silence, and you lose yourself for a moment. Maybe too confused by the question, or maybe because you loved the way his hair fell messy over his face like that, his honey eyes shining between the brown strands almost like a waterfall more intense than the waters of Niagara. And the only thing you can think of is that you don't need anything else. That was already more than enough, that was everything and even more than you could ever imagine dreaming of one day. Steve was your gift, and knowing that those eyes would forever be yours was the best affirmation you could have.

"What?" you ask, furrowing your brow, your voice somewhat hoarse because your mind was so airy, you couldn't pay attention to anything else.

"Because I forgot about today, how can I make it up to you?" he repeats once again, giving you a gentle squeeze on the arm as if pleading for you to pay attention to it, because it was important to him.

"You know you don't have to." in a failed attempt to reaffirm it, he cuts you off in the middle of any denial or hesitation that dared to come out of your mouth again.

"But I want to." His voice is firm now, looking so deeply into your eyes that you wonder how all this can be real.

"Okay… how about we go to the bedroom…" Your smile is slightly suggestive, and as much as you try to maintain composure, your face burns with embarrassment, and it's impossible for him not to laugh at how adorable you are like that.

"Oh, really?" he teases once again, and you avert his gaze, but he doesn't allow it, holding your chin with his fingertips so that you keep your eyes locked on his while they become slightly darker, and that innocence from seconds ago evaporates completely.

"Really…" you finally say before he kisses you, eliciting a surprised sigh from your throat as he takes the opportunity to lift you off the couch in his arms, without warning, effortlessly regardless of how heavy you think you are.

"Whatever you want," he says, a slightly submissive air in his voice, a look in his eyes saying that he was willing to do anything for you. Anything.

As you enter the bedroom, almost with a sense of desperation, your eyes are flooded with red. Rose petals scattered on the floor, photos of the two of you on the wall, and even heart-shaped balloons, as cheesy as it may sound. And secretly, you're amazed by it all.

Your eyes shine so brightly that it's as if two stars have just become supernovas, and your smile lights up your face so much that even the muscles of your cheeks ache slightly, because it's simply impossible to stop smiling beside him.

"You fooled me," you say, feeling somewhat embarrassed now, for thinking that he would forget, for caring about something even silly, and for believing for even a second that you didn't need that. Because, at least for Steve, it was the least he could do for you.

"And you fell for it like a duckling," he teases, drawing out the pout that forms on your lips with a lingering kiss and then a silly little laugh. "Happy Women's Day, my woman."

He says finally, before placing you on the bed. His voice full of desire and confidence, and you love the way those words come out of his mouth, so certain. His. No one else's.

And as you see him like that, with all of that around him, a whole scene meticulously prepared so that you would never forget that moment, all you can think is that everything else didn't matter and never would, because he was all you needed and nothing more. Just those kind eyes reminding you that you would always be seen.

hey!! things are pretty busy for me but I found some time to write just a little blurb, and I really hope you enjoy it!

happy late international women's day! I'm a mess with dates, please forgive me hahaha

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #happy women’s day #stranger things fic

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carolmunson · 1 year

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once bitten, twice shy (pbv!steve x f!thick reader)

finally, we made it. been writing this since october with breaks in between. if you're new to the pbv!steve universe (which is just an incredibly wealthy big money version of steve), i'd recommend reading 'peanut butter vibe' first.

here, steve invites his thick hottie bestie (you, who we're calling natalie because i HATE 'y/n') to his office holiday party. this fic has everything: sugardaddy!steve, casual dominance, office sex, unrequited love, some guy named rob -- anyway, enjoy. warnings/content prev: piv sex (protected), fingering/oral (f receiving), mentions of oral (m receiving) some angst/unrequited feelings, casual dominance, light spanking, office sex, sort of a 'boss' kink?? idk what to call it, rich people behavior, snide comments about thick!reader but not really about her body, some body descriptions but nothing wild, mentions of clothing sizes, lots of fluff, steve is a hot hot hottie throughout. little christmas light dividers by @newlips

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I’ll take you to get something tomorrow,” he insists.

“I can buy my own dress, Steve,” you sigh, he can hear the eye roll through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone in Indiana knows you can buy your own dress, Manhattan, we get it,” Steve’s eye roll is even more audible than yours, “But you only have to get one because I’m asking you to come to this party. Let me get it for you.”

“Steve,” you scold, “No.”

“I have to finish shopping anyway — don’t you still have to finish getting gifts for your niece? We can go to the mall, two birds one stone!” he quickly adds. He hopes the thought of your niece’s tiny toes in some new little socks or a cute little outfit will soften you up.

“The mall is going to be a mess, Steve. It’s the weekend before Christmas,” you complain.

“We can go to a boutique or something,” he counters, determined to get you in a dress so you had no reason not to go to this party.

“Boutiques in Indiana aren’t making dresses for girls like me, Harrington,” you laugh, he doesn’t. He’s quiet for a moment until you hear his signature aggravated sigh come through the ear piece.

“You can just say you don’t wanna come,” his voice sounds slightly sullen, “Just wanted to show you the office, since you won’t get a chance to see it after I move.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna come, Steve,” you say softly, “It’s just..it’s what it implies.”

“It doesn’t have to imply anything! Can’t you just come have fun with me? It’ll be so fun, I promise!” there’s a mild whine to his claim and you have to stifle a laugh.

Breaking News in Indiana: Poor little rich boy wants his big booty Barbie to play with at a party — throws minor tantrum when he might not get what he wants! "Fine, fine, Jesus Christ," you tease, "You're so annoying when you get whiny."

"So I'll pick you up in the morning? Is nine okay?" he asks, voice back to his regular charm. "Yeah, that's fine," you start, "Wait, we're not taking the Porsche to the mall, are we?" "Uh, yeah?" he replies, confused, "Did you want me to take a different car?" "Ugh, Steve that's so tooly," you moan, "You're such a tool."

"I'm about to uninvite you," he huffs, "Do you want me to buy you something pretty tomorrow or--" "I can buy my own dress," you yell over him. He lets out another aggravated sigh. "Tomorrow, nine, in the Porsche," he says finally, you hear the click of the dial tone as soon as he finishes speaking.

The Porsche rolls up at 8:58 and he knows better than to honk the horn, lest he wake your sister's newborn. Instead, he parks and walks up to the porch of your sister's house; knocking on the door and waiting for you with his hands clasped behind his back. When the door opens, he's surprised to see your mom behind it. She smiles, big and warm. She looks familiar, definitely a face in the stands at basketball games because your older sister Carly was a cheerleader. She was a senior when you were both freshman, before Steve was King Steve. "Oh, hi. You must be Steven," she whispers, when the door opens further he spots your little niece propped up high on your mom's chest, "I'm Maureen. Come in, come in. S'way too cold to be standing out here." "Thanks, thank you," he smiles, the kind of smile that makes mom's melt. Steve takes a step inside and your mom steps back, patting the baby's back to burp her. He wipes his shoes on the welcome mat and undoes the buttons on his Hugo Boss wool coat. His cashmere scarf hung loosely over his shoulders down his chest. "I've heard so much about you. Nat should be out in a second," heat blooming in her cheeks, "Make yourself comfortable." Maureen disappears into the kitchen but he can hear the gurgles of your niece and your mom's little titters to her. He leans on the back of the couch, the house smells like you and his heart swells. So this is what it looks like when you go inside after he drops you off. This is where you go when you're not with him. It feels like a secret he's not supposed to know. "Oh, hi, you're in my house," his eyes snap up when he hears your voice. His teeth shine through his smile, he waves with a leather gloved hand. "Good morning," he says, his voice is low and warm. Your heartrate speeds up when he says it. It's awkward when you walk up to him, unsure if you should hug or kiss on the cheek. It's normally never awkward, but you're always meeting at the bar or in his car. He's never been so...available at the first greeting. You don't want to kiss in front of your mom because then she'll have questions. She already asks too many about Steve to begin with. He scans you, your white sweater and jeans, square toe brown boots on your feet. You reach for a black parka on the coat rack and a scarf that he recognizes as a polyblend. He makes a mental note to get you a cashmere one when you're not paying attention. "Good morning," you reply, shrugging the coat on and tossing the scarf around your neck sloppily. He walks towards you, tutting while he does, reaching out to flip your hair out from under the scarf. He readjusts the material so it lays neater against you, tucked in and under the jacket so you actually stay warm. "Gonna freeze if you don't wear it right," he sing songs, shaking his head while he works. "Okay dad," you roll your eyes, swatting his hands away when he goes to zip up your coat, "I can do it." You don't zip your parka up, instead you peek your head into the kitchen and whisper a quick goodbye to your mom and your niece. Maureen appears with the baby again and says a motherly goodbye and 'Merry Christmas' to Steve. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Maureen," he almost flirts, "Have a Merry Christmas." She winks at you when he turns towards the door, mouthing a very enthusiastic 'He's cute.'

You have half a mind to say, 'Yeah, he knows. That's what's so infuriating.' But you think it, instead. You opt to mouth a simple 'Stop,' at her before following him outside towards the car. "You're mom's so sweet," he says when he gets to the side walk from your porch, hand immediately coming out to support you down the icy steps, "Careful." "There's a railing," you explain, using him for support, "It's there so I don't fall." "Well, you're holding my hand anyway, so," he shrugs. You bristle at his coolness, always so slick even when it's innocent. He's so hateable, it's almost unfair how excited he makes you. "As I was saying," he starts again when you make it to the end of the stairs, "Your mom's so nice." "Maureen? Yeah, she's a sweetie," you agree when you get the passenger door. He reaches past you to open it, and in doing so has you chest to chest with him. He lingers there for a moment, looking at you down the slope of his nose. He cocks his head, eyes a little hard, lips pulling into a smirk. "So what happened to you, then?" he teases, lips dangerously close to yours. You catch your mom peaking out of the living room window and sink down into the open door onto the leather seat. "Shut up," you huff, "You're not funny." "I'm so funny," he corrects, shutting the door, appearing on the drivers side moments later. "The stores don't open for at least an hour," you say, buckling into the seat, "Why'd you wanna leave so early?" "Thought we could get breakfast first," he shrugs, looking your over in the passengers side. He bites his lip, eyes flitting from your thighs to your face, "You look nice."

"It's nine in the morning Harrington, keep it in your pants," you shove his shoulder and he grins while he puts his attention back on the road, pulling forward away from the sidewalk. "It's 9:07 actually," he says, aloof, hand resting on your inner thigh once he had his bearings on the road infront of him, "You're so warm." "Perks of big thighs, I guess," you shrug, "You're wearing gloves though, I think that helps." "Nah, your thighs are just warm," he grins again, "Haven't had to buy ear muffs for the last five years cause'a them."

"You're so gross," you turn to him as you say it, exasperated. The car rolls to a stop at a redlight and he turns to look at you. "I'm so gross, huh?" he asks, leaning in. His hand floating from your thigh to under your chin. The leather is smooth on your skin, you can smell his cologne as he moves closer, "S'that why you want me to kiss you so bad?" "I think you wanna kiss me so bad," you tease back. His lips catch yours, fingers gently wrapping around your jaw as they do. The leather sinks into your full cheeks, flush from the cold and the way his mouth fits against yours. His nose bumps your cheek and your ungloved hand finds his, you can feel the smoothness from his shave this morning. Smell his moisturizer, his shaving cream. Taste the mint from his mouth wash in your mouth. A soft hum leaks from your chest and you feel him smile into the kiss before he breaks away, the light turning green against the white cloudy sky. "You're right, I did wanna kiss you so bad," he admits. His hand falls right back on your thigh, hitting the gas to pull onto the highway.

You'd been at it for a couple of hours now, store after store, the mall littered with families and screaming children. "We can go to the west wing. I don't know why you keep avoiding it," he chides. He puts all the shopping bags you've both already accumulated into the hand furthest from you, offering you the empty one. You take it, your other hand empty since he wouldn't let you carry your own bags. "That's the nice part of the mall," you say, "I don't want to spend that much on a dress for one night."

"Then it's a good thing you're not spending any money on it," he smiles. "Steven," you chide, "Enough, pl--" "Don't use that voice with me. I told you a thousand times I want to get you something pretty. So we're getting you something pretty," he urges, "Let's go." The west wing has all the fancy stores in it. Luxury brands, far stretches from Kay Jewelers and JC Penney. You aren't sure if they even carry your size in stores like this, but maybe you'll be surprised. It's not long before he has you in a dressing room, working with the attendants and tossing dress after dress in behind the curtain. Steve sits on one of the waiting area couches with the rest of the men. Your purse and coat is on his lap, the shopping bags resting between his feet. You poke your head out after the fourth dress, looking for an attendant but they're all busy. He notices your nervous face and waves to get your attention. "Need help?" he asks. You flush. "Can you get this zipper for me? It's not a side zipper so I can't reach," you ask. He nods, slinging your purse over himself with the cross body strap, asking the guy next to him to watch the bags with a quick 'Would you mind, chief? Thanks a million.' He comes up to the curtain and sees the front of the dress, red bursting to his cheeks, tinging his ears, "Good fucking lord." "Oh stop it," you blush back. You turn around and zips up the dress, some resistance meeting at the top. You walk closer to the mirror and inspect yourself, scrunching your face at your reflecting. "You don't like it?" he asks with a frown. "It's just not me," you shrug, "It's a little tight, and I don't want to be thinking about that the whole time, y'know?"

He nods, looking over his shoulder to see a dress on the 'put away' rack, dark green and off the shoulder. The style a mix between Herve Leger and vintage Dior. "Ma'am," he calls out when he sees an attendant walk by, "Would you mind pulling that dress for me? The green one?" She scans her hand over the rack and points at it, reading out the size. "That's perfect, actually," he smiles, that winning Harrington smile that makes the girls melt, "Thank you." "You're very welcome," she says sweetly, posture straightening when she brings it over. You peak back out and he turns you around to start the zipper down on the number you'd just tried on. "You look so good in green, try this one," he says, passing it to you, "Very Hawkins High." You hold it up in front of you and consider, it's a bodycon but still somehow classic looking. A velvet piece that you wouldn't have picked out yourself. "Hm, okay, I'll try it," you say, turning to him with a furrowed brow, "Now get out, perv." He smiles, closing the curtain carefully and retreating back to the couches, "Thanks for watching the bags, man." The guy smiles, "Us husbands gotta look out for each other, right?"

Steve bites his lip in a toothy grin, nodding, "Yeah, for sure."

"How long you been married?" he asked. "Few years," he lies, it's fun to lie when people have asked about you before. He'd get comments every now and again at Porter's, have chats with bar stoll warmers about you like you'd been together forever. "Few years? You look like babies," he laughs, the gray smattered in the man's hair shines in the pristine white lights of the store. "When you know, you know," Steve shrugs. The man nods, "They do say that, don't they? Well, I'll give ya a little advice. Fifteen years down the line, here -- they aren't lying when they say 'happy wife, happy life'. So just, y'know, do whatever she says and you're golden." "Great advice, honey," a woman's voice coo's above them. Steve sees her Vivienne Westwood shoes first, head tilting up to see a very expensive woman in front of him. She has a few dresses in her hand that he immediately stands up and takes from her. "Merry Christmas, kid," he says while they head out, the wife nods toward Steve in acknowledgement and he gives them a small wave. "Oh Steve, this is it, this is the one," you say, stepping out of the dressing room with the dress in your arm, the 'no's' in the other. His shoulders slump, "You didn't even let me see it."

"It'll be a surprise. You'll see it tomorrow night," you smile. He instinctively gets up and takes the dresses you don't want to hang up them for you on the rack. You exchange them for your purse and jacket, scarf previously abandoned in a shopping bag. "You all set to go? You have any other shopping you wanna do?" you ask.

"Hmm," he thinks, "Let's stop by jewelry first."

"Something for your mom?" you ask, putting your parka back on. "Something for you," he says, "To go with that dress."

"No, no, I have jewelry at home. I'll ask my mom if I can borrow something," you wave your hand off at him while you walk out of the dressing area and back into the store together. "Hey, hey," he shushes you, raising his neck to look into your eyes, "Let me spoil you a little, okay?"

"You already got me a new scarf and gloves," you say earnestly, "It's too much, Steve."

"You needed a new scarf and gloves," he says knowingly, "Let's get you a necklace to go with that dress, hm? You need shoes, too?" "I'm drawing the line at shoes," you warn, putting your purse over yourself while you walk through the beauty section, "I brought plenty of shoes with me."

He shrugs, "Suit yourelf."

Monday night comes quicker than expected, but you'd stayed the night at Steve's after shopping, only to wake up in the late morning with him the next day. You'd been up late fucking mercilessly wrapping gifts with each other, teaching him how to curl ribbon, watching him fold wrapping paper with obscene precision. The only reason you went home is because he had to go into the office to finish up some reports. You arrive around seven-thirty, a little late but still there, heels clicking on the marble floor of the lobby -- and there he is, waiting for you behind the turnstyles to the elevators -- suit jacket fitting him almost criminally.

"Fashionably late?" he teases, opening the side gate to let you through to him, "Everyone thinks my date stood me up."

"Oh, I'm sure your secretary will be so disappointed to know I'm here," you joke back.

"I don't fuck my secretary," he shakes his head, hitting the call button, "I fuck Rob's secretary. God, do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

Rob, Steve's work nemesis.

"Oh forgive me, there's so only many office flings I can keep up with," you say, stepping into the elevator. You take off your scarf from under your coat, revealing the necklace Steve bought you at the mall. He smiles to himself, seeing your adorned by his gifts. The scarf, the necklace, the gloves. He's excited to see the dress, it's all he thought about today. When you get the floor of the party, you wince a bit at the noise. It's rowdy, a lot of the men are already drunk. And boy is it, fancy. Men in suits, women is cocktail dresses in sky-high heels, hair in big blowouts with glowing gold and silver jewelry. You're suddenly thankful for the necklace Steve bought you. You'd been around your fair share of fancy in New York, but never really living it outside of your own work holiday parties. Sometimes you forget that this is Steve's day to day. "The actual offices are the next floors up, this is just our meeting hall. They really go all out, huh?" he smiles, "Let me bring you to coat check." On the walk to coat check you scan the room, it's decked out in gold and red. Ten foot Christmas trees sit in every corner, draped in garland, ribbon, and tinsel. Lights leaving a soft glow out of the floor to ceiling windows of the room. Intricately placed curtains of warm white christmas lights hang from the ceiling, dress the walls and windows. The room is a halo, glowing and warm. In the center of the room is the open dance floor, flanked by tables covered in white cloths -- drinks already littering them. Speakers boom top 40 and Christmas music, chatter and laughter booms over it.

"Here, let me get it," he says when you reach the coat check area, a little set up of a few racks with a sweet woman at a table, writing out tickets for you to keep track of for the end of the night. He undoes the buttons of your coat and you shrug it off slowly. His eyes round and he gulps, mouth going dry at the sight of you.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out, pulling your coat back over you, "You can't be serious rigt now."

"What?" you ask, suddenly self concious, "Does it look bad?"

"No, oh my god, no, it's..." he pulls your coat away again and sucks in a sharp intake of breath, "If I knew you were gonna look like this, I wouldn't have let you wear it here. Can't have everyone looking at you when you're here with me."

He looks you over, the way your breasts sit in the sweetheart neckline, how tightly it clings to your curves, the shape of your hipes, the outline of your belly in the fabric. He licks his lips, knowing he's not strong enough to see you from the back just yet.

"God damn," he shakes his head, "You're gonna kill me." "Well, you look very handsome too," the compliment is genuine but it doesn't register for him. He's busy looking at your glossed lips, the necklace places perfectly above your chest, the smell of your perfume. He licks his lips and your words finally hit him, so does the feeling of the fabric of your coat in his hands. "Th-thank you," he smiles, "Thanks." He checks your jacket and gives the lady at the table a $20 even though the coat check is free. Waiters walk around with hor d'ourves and drinks and he reaches for the champagne flutes, nodding to you to see if you want one. "It's kind of chilly, is there coffee or anything?" you ask, running your hands over your arms. "There's hot toddy's," he says, "They're by the bar but you don't like whiskey."

"I can pretend to like it for right now," you smile, he smiles back, placing his champagne flute on a table that he'd been sat at earlier, your name card placed on the seat next to him. He takes your hand and leads you to the bar, running his own hands over arms to warm you up while you wait behind a small line of people.

"This is pretty," you tell him, "Looks like everyone is having a good time."

"Half of these guys have been drinking since four," he laughs a little, "I'd hope they're having a good time."

"Oh, Harrington, is this her?" you hear a gruff voice ask. Steve's arm sling protectively around your waist at the sound. "This is she," he says back, he presents you like a trophy to him. His best Vanna White while he scans a hand over you to show you off. "Rob Delaney," he smiles, a smile that rivals Steve's, and offers his hand. He is devilishly handsome, no wonder Steve hates him so much, "You must be the girl that's got Harrington running to the big city."

"I think it's the pay raise that has him running to the big city, but thank you," you giggle, shaking his hand. It's a firm shake, a businessman's shake. You feel the chill of his gold pinky ring brush against your skin. "Pretty thing like you got a name?" he flirts, you feel Steve pull you closer, his hand splaying at the curve of your waist. Your face heats up at the feeling, knowing he doesn't like sharing you even though you weren't his to begin with. "Natalie," you smile. "Natalie," he repeats, giving you a once over, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." "Well, thank you," you say politely, letting go of his hand. He puts his own in his pants pocket, smiling at the both of you. "It's nice to meet you. Save me a dance, will ya?" he smirks when he asks.

"Don't know how free I'll be for a dance, Delaney," Steve replies with a tight voice, ffingers digging into the velvet of your dress, "She's kinda got me tied up all night. Maybe next time." Rob nods, biting back at snicker before walking away with his drink. "See, angel, this dress is dangerous," Steve says in your ear, you hold back from having your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his voice in your chest. He orders your hot toddy and a whiskey on the rocks for himself, you nurse it slowly back to the table -- the drink is strong and the food here is light. You feel lucky you ate dinner before you left or else this night would've been ten times more dangerous than the dress you were wearing.

An hour and two hot toddies later and you're chatty at the table with Steve's work friends. He glows while he watches you, the way you are able to blend in so seamlessly with everything. Like you've known these people longer than he has.

"And so I'm still on the phone after he puts me on hold for thirty minutes," you continue through gasps and giggles, the whole table is crying with laughter, "And -- and he comes back and is like, "Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. Did you say L'Oreal? I thought this was the Oriole's marketing office!"

The table erupts in laughter, feet stomping, glasses clinking while men bang on the table. The women dab tears away with their napkins. Business talk, business jokes. Two big kids in their parents clothes again, at a fancy office party that they don't need to go to.

"Oh god," Steve's co-worker says, face red with liquor and laughter, "That is fuckin' marketing for you. I'm gonna go get a drink, you all want another round?" The group at the table nods, but Steve waves off a no for both of you. 'Last Christmas' flows through the speakers and some people have found their way to the dance floor. He takes the hand resting on your lap and gives it a light squeeze to get your attention. "Hey," you say, turning towards him.

"Hey," he says back, thumb brushing your skin, "You wanna dance with me?" You blush, nodding when he stands up. He's almost too charming, who are you to say no to him.

“Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it — with a note saying I loved you, I meant it —” Steve mouthed along with the words dramatically, guiding you to the dance floor on gliding backwards feet. His hips swayed expertly — surprising since he didn’t strike you as much of a dancer. You saw him at many a homecoming dance, he was not incredibly impressive in the 80s.

“Now I know, what a fool I’ve been, but if you kiss me now, I know you’d fool me again,” he sings along softly while he pulls you into him. His hand presses against your lower back until you’re chest to chest, hips against his hips, holding your other hand outside the both of you. Your face burns in the low light, noticing the other couples on the dance floor — women with engagement rings and wedding bands, women introduced as ‘my girlfriend _____’ who would be fiancés soon.

“When did you get so good at dancing?” you ask, looking up at him.

“This year to save me from tears — been going to a lot of weddings — give it to someone special,” he explained through his soft singing, “Got good at dancing so I could pick up bridesmaids. What about you?”

You scoff at his answer before answering yourself, "I was always a good dancer, Steve."

"How was I supposed to know?" he shrugged. Hair falls in his face when he leans forward to brush his nose against yours, his tell that he wants to kiss you.

"Should've danced with you at prom," he mumbles, resting his forehead down on yours.

"I didn't go to prom," you smile, moving your head on his chest, "Wasn't really my thing." His hand travels from your lower back to just below your shoulder blades, holding you while you both sway in time with the music.

"What'd you do instead?" he asks, you can't help but giggle and he can feel it in his chest.

"Ugh, it's embarrassing," your face burns while you nuzzle into the lapel of his jacket.

"It was years ago, c'mon," he urges, “Tell me.”

You look up at him and scrunch your nose, “I let Eddie Munson take my V-card that night.”

Steve gasps, you want to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Right on his stained mattress at his uncle's,” you laugh and scrunch your nose harder.

“Oh, no…” he laughs, a twinge of jealously plucks in his chest, “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”

“I mean he was a different kind of freak for me,” you shrug and Steve presses you even closer, feeling your breats and tummy squish against him. Warm and soft.

“Any good?” he asks, trying to make it casual. But even if it was so long ago, he had to know. "Good for seventeen," you shrugged, "And eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty. Then Corrded Coffin took off and he left."

"So you kept fucking him when you'd come back for breaks?" he laughs.

"It's a long winter break, Harrington," you explained, "I had a life before you, y'know."

"Yeah, but, was it a good one?" he squints when he asks, so you know he's joking. You roll your eyes at him, anyway. While George Michael wails, Steve can't help himself while looking at you in the low light. His body so close to yours he could barely breathe correctly. His hand skates up the the top of your back to your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that only both of your lips understand. Sharing secrets with eachother through clicks of spit, soft breaths, and swipes of tongue. If it weren't for the hot toddies, you'd never let him kiss you like this with people around. When you break away, he's breathless. "You look so good tonight," he confesses, the hand holding yours leaving to meet your cheek, "Can't stop lookin' at you." "Well thank you for the dress," you smile, "It's all you."

"Fits you like a glove," he smirks, "No lines or anything."

You blush but he can't tell, "Well I'm not wearing anything under this so that's why."

Steve chokes, sputtering, astounded at how you can say that to him so casually. The whole time he's had his hands on you, it's only been this flimsy velvet fabric keeping him from feeling your skin. All night you've been naked under this -- and you're just telling him now?

"Uh -- um," his voice cracks, "Do you uh, um, you wanna see my -- um, my office?" "I don't know, is it interesting?" you ask with a laugh. His hands skate down to your ass, the whiskey in your system tells you its okay when he lets his palms roam the mass of it. "Can make it so interesting for you," he says, lips brushing yours, "So, so interesting."

His hands and lips are on you the moment you step into the elevator and the doors close. His tongue runs a flat stripe over your collar bone, over the twenty four karat gold chain around your neck, following your jugular until he gets to your job.

"Your quarterly review came in," he murmurs in your ear, hand skating up your dress to tease you. Fingers brushing over your inner thighs, creeping slowly upward while you whine, "It's abysmal."

The doors ding open and he pulls you by the hand down the hall to the corner office. The windows show off the Indianapolis skyline, buildings glittering from floor to ceiling. There were packing boxes littered around, leather chairs and a couch cross from his desk for meetings. A bar cart left abandon in the corner with a large oak desk in the center. "Abysmal?" you reply innocently while he shuts the door behind you, "Does that mean I'm gonna get fired?"

He finally gets a good view of you from behind and bites his fist bringing the other hand down hard with a loud CRACK! against your ass. He smirks to himself with you yelp. "It might," Steve sinks down into the chair behind his desk, beckoning you over with a finger.

“Wanna keep your job?” he asks with a sly smirk, the authority building in his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington," you playfully whisper. "Then show me," he sighs, reaching for his belt. The clink of the metal on the buckle being undone sent a shiver through you. He stayed relaxed in his office chair, pulling out his length to pump it lazily in his fist.

"Don't be such a tease," he scolds while you stand there, gaping at his cock, feeling behind you to twist the lock on the door.

"Steve! You can't just -- you're at work!" you gasp, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"You just locked the door," he shrugged, "They're all downstairs, c'mon just -- please, come suck my dick. It's already out."

“You’re insane,” you laugh, “We have to go back out there eventually, Harrington.”

“I promise I won’t mess up your makeup,” he pleads, a soft grunt escaping his lips while he quickens his pace on his cock.

“So, I suck your dick,” you start, walking slowly back towards his desk, “And what do I get?”

“Baby, in that dress, you can have anything you want,” he gasps as he runs his thumb over his leaking tip, watching your hips sway while you continuing your slow strut toward him.

“Want me to fuck you instead?” he asks, “God, fuck, bend over the desk. I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

“Very forward, Mr. Harrington,” you coo, slowly reaching for the hem of your dress, “Can I keep my job if I let you fuck me?” "Keep your job?" he pants while you bend over in front of him, hem slowly rising over your thighs, "Give you the whole--whole fucking c-company." Your dress slips over the curve of your ass, legs taught and flexed while balancing your weight on your tall heels.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers while he stands, still fucking his fist while he does it, "Your body's just...shit, you're so...I wish you could see how you look."

He clumsily reaches for the middle drawers on the side of his desk, hastily fishing into a half empty box of condoms. You can't stifle the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, "How many people are you fucking in here, Steve?"

"Shh, just shut up," he huffs while he quickly works the latex over his shaft. "Well excuse me," you murmur, bracing yourself while he puts one hand on your hip. The other dips between your legs, pressing against your entrance. "You nice and wet for me?" he asks gently, soaking his fingers in his mouth and coating your opening with a mix of your slick and his spit. "Y-yeah," you say breathily, rocking back onto his hand. Steve smirks, feeling your walls puff and twitch as his touch. You feel his length slide between your thighs, hand guiding his tip to drag across your folds, parting them as he pushes in just an inch or two. You hiss at the intrustion, you were wet but not relaxed. The let downs of not having enough time for foreplay. He runs a calming hand down your back over your dress. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he soothes, "I'll go slow." You feel his hips slowly pull out and push in again, coaxing your walls to start accomdating him. You part your legs a little, the arch in your back matching the porn stars in 'SLUTS AND CEOS XXX' videos you were sure Steve had seen before. Slickness builds between your legs while he pushes his hips in and out again, more and more of his length getting sucked in. You hear him groan when it gets all the way to the hilt.

"So tight..." he grumbles. It was almost uncomfortable for him, he knew you were turned on enough, "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," you nod, wincing, "Hurts a little."

"Sorry," he apologizes again while running a hand through his hair, "Lemme...hm..." You hiss again when he pulls out, looking back to see him get to his knees while his hands grip your thighs. Steve just goes for it. His tongue immedately making contact with your entrance. "Steve, oh..." your eyes roll back when he parts your lips with his thumbs, tongue gliding forward to your clit while his fingers find home inside of you. "There we go," he chuckles darkly, "Did she just need a little somethin' extra from me?" "Oh, shit, that's so good," you whisper, covering your mouth to stop your whimpers escaping from under his office door. His fingers pumped like pistons inside of you, teasing your g-spot just enough to get you dripping down your thighs. "Think it'll be okay now?" he asks, his hand meeting your hip while he gets back to full height. "Mhm," you gulp when you feel his head push in, and then the rest of him. Much easier this time around. "Fuuuuck, me," he groans, his hips rolling in steady thrusts against you. You cover your mouth harder, moans caught in your throat, in your palm, threatening to ricochet of the high ceilings of his office. "Better, baby? That feel good?" he asks, his voice clouded behind breathy grunts. You were still tighter than normal, and while that was great, he'd fucked you enough times to know when something wasn't working. "Really good, Steve," you whine through gritted teeth. His speed picks up, the skin of his thighs clapping loudly against the backs of yours. Steve's thrusts are shallow, hitting deeper and deeper until you're on the toes of your heels. "Look--oh fucking fuck--Look back at me," he pleads, "Wanna see you." You oblige and he sighs at the sight of you, reaching forward to move your hair away from you, "So pretty for me."

Steve never looked at the girls he was fucking in his office. It was always just to get off, to feel good after a rough meeting. To let off some steam after his underlings fucked up yet another sale. New secretaries, mail girls, office assistants, you name it -- all he had to do is wink and they'd be bent over his desk by lunch. "I'm close," he admits with a blush, "S'just...mmm fuck, s'what you do to me." "That's okay," you smile, his hand reaching forward again to touch your face. "Been hard since you fuckin'--oh shit, Christ--since you got here," his brows are furrowed while he watches you. Swollen wet lips letting out soft moans while he pumps into you. God, he'd do anything to keep you like this -- wet and ready for him. You catch his hand, pressing kisses to his fingertips, eyeing him mischeviously while you do it.

"D-don't, you're gonna m-make me---" he warns, another groan taking over while you slip his first and middle finger into your mouth. Sucking expertly, your lipstick smearing on his knuckles. "J-just need s-something in your mouth, hm?" his face contorts, brows furrowing while he clamps his eyes down. Whatever authority he had in his voice falls into boyish whines when your tongue swirls between his fingers. It's a sensation he didn't know he'd like so much, having his fingers sucked on while he was buried inside you. Something about the warm wetness of your mouth. The dirtiness of it. The way you'd wink at him while you did. He took his fingers out with a sharp inhale of breath, trying to stave off his orgasm. Instead, he uses them to wrench your hair back, your chest arching off the desk. The sound of your cry would definitely be heard a few doors down if anyone else was around. You involuntarily clench down on him, gushing. "Oh I see, you want me to be a little mean?" he asks against your neck, open palm coming down against your ass again, "Put you in your place?"

"In my p-place? Please. I thought I was getting the whole c-company?" you ask slyly, turning back to face him against the hold in your hair, "Isn't that what you promised...?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, mocking his own approach to the edge, mouth gaping. "Isn't that what you p-promised, Mr. Harrington?"

He gasps, hips stuttering while his grip in your hair slacks and clutches your shoulder. Gutteral groans flow from his throat, a string of expletives pour from his mouth. Gasps of phrases like, "My little office whore...fucking Jesus, my perfect girl...Pretty -- oh god -- pretty baby..." Steve slows his thrusts to nothing, heaving his breaths until they steady and leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "You didn't..." "I didn't," you shake your head, "But it's okay."

"It's not okay," he says while pulling out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can under his desk. "Gross, Steve," you admonish, standing up. You adjust your dress while turning to face him and he frowns, "Someone has to clean that up."

"Don't put your dress down, let me --" he reaches for the hem, but you stop him.

"Steve, it's fine. We have to go back downstairs, they're gonna know you're missing," you smile while you say it, "They're loving you down there."

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "Wake up all the neighbors when we get home tonight."

"Whatever you say, Harrington," you roll your eyes while you get to the door, clicking the lock. You both make your way to the bathroom when you leave his office, making quick work of cleaning up. He waits for you against the wall across from the door, your purse in his hand. "Hi," he smiles, when you exit, "Missed you."

You scoff, reaching for your purse and fishing out a compact to touch up your lipstick and powder. He walks next to you while you touch up, arm slinging around your waist while he does.

"You're gonna make me mess it up," you say, swiping a line of color over your lips. "I already messed it up back there," he shrugs while the elevator doors ding open, "What's a second time?" He pushes you up against the elevator wall when the doors close behind you, "Or a third time?" You hum into his kiss, hungry and touchy, feeling yourself swell between your legs.

Another drink and an hour on the dance floor later and you're back at the table while the guys chat with cigars on the opposite side of the room. Steve stands with a hand in his pocket, cocky and confident, while he talks with his work friends -- you're sure about something he doesn't really care about. Mergers and acquistions.

"He sent Rob's secretary three dozen roses as a goodbye gift," one of the women at the table behind you said to another. "Oh, you know he just did that to piss him off," her friend replied, "Muffy told me she doesn't even like him like that. It's all been for fun."

"He told her to come visit him in New York any time," she shrugged, "But he stopped sleeping with her earlier this month cause he said he's got himself a girl in the city."

"Can't believe he's going to New York for some girl," she complains, "He stopped flirting with everyone. But you know what? Good riddance, he's fucking boring now. Hot but boring." "It's not the girl he brought tonight, right?" the other woman asks, "That's gotta be a friend from school or something. She's not very New York looking, pretty home grown if you ask me."

It doesn't bother you, but your shoulders tense a little. In your own little world with Steve was one thing, but to hear people confirm your slight fears about what the future could hold was another. You couldn't deny the sinking feeling in your chest every time you remembered he was moving to New York. Moving into your life in a way you'd never had him before. Disrupting the whole life you built there by yourself, a place you've been able to call home without anyone from your real home to bother you. 'Got himself a girl', since when? Weren't you just having fun? Before you can get too lost in your thoughts, he's coming towards you with your coats in his arms, holding yours out in front of him. "You wanna get outta here, baby?" he asks, there's a slight slur to his words that makes you laugh. "Sure," you smile. You hear a soft 'Oh, shit,' come from the table behind you. "You need me to find a phone to call for a car?" you ask him. He shakes his head, "No, they'll call one for us downstairs." You put on your coats, led around for a flurry of goodbyes before heading back into the elevator to the lobby. He takes your hand immeidately, leading you to the front desk to ask for a car before taking you outside to wait. "You have fun?" he asks, pulling you in to hold you, protecting you from the cold. "Oh, a lot of fun," you smile, "You brought your dancin' shoes, for sure." "Had to, since you're so nice to dance with," he smiles, hands dropping from your arms to laces fingers with yours. You smile, but he notices there's something off about it, not as genuine, "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, fine," you shake your head, "Just thinkin'."

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' too and um..." he starts, looking down, brows furrowing, "Thinking about you and uh--"

"What did you mean the other night, on the phone? When you said 'It's what it implies'?" he asks, thumb gliding idly against your gloved hand. One of his co-workers came bumbling through the revolving door, eyes glazed over with the buzz of alcohol. You dropped his hand before whoever this was could register it, embarrassment buzzing through you. If the women were talking about you, you couldn't imagine what the men were saying.

"Hey man, goodnight -- good to see you and uh -- yeah g-good luck if oh, shit I'm so fucked up dude -- good luck if I don't see you," he slurred, pulling Steve in for a hug. "Thanks, Jack. Easy there, buddy," Steve rolled his eyes at you from over his shoulder before he let go, "You're not driving tonight, right?"

Jack shakes his head and laughs, leaning against are large stone sqaure pillar. His eyes semi-follow the figure of a beautiful woman in a maroon dress pushing through the revolving door.

"Jack, let's go," she calls, like a mother to a son. She waves him over with her clutch, engagement ring glinting in the buildings facades.

"That's my ride," he smiles, stumbling over to her. They take eachother's hand and she offers an apology over her shoulder, saying goodnight to Steve and smiling at you.

"Sorry about that,” Steve says apologetically, reaching for your hand again, “You we’re saying.”

“Just that,” you stuttered, unable to find the right words to say to explain it, “I don’t know Steve. I’m not like — I don’t — This isn’t — ugh..”

“Take your time, Manhattan,” he teases. You don’t want to hurt him, especially not when he smiles at you like that.

“Bringing me here,” you start, “In this dress you bought me, in this necklace. Dancing with me, taking me to your office. It’s making people think we’re together.”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing, “Cause I thought that — like, we talked about — have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No, Steve, I haven’t,” you shake your head, keeping your voice calm, “But I’m not going around telling people that you’re my boyfriend.”

Steve’s face drops a little, some pink rising in his cheeks that isn’t coming from the cold, “Oh.”

“I thought you liked me,” Steve confessed, “That you, y’know — that you wanted me. That you liked me the way I like you.”

“I do like you, Steve,” you tell him, your hand resting on his chest, “But what if this isn’t what you really want? What if this is just fun for now?”

"I mean, I -- I uprooted my whole life for you," Steve argues, "I'm moving to New York in a week and a half."

"I didn't ask you to do that for me. You wanted to do something new," you calmly explained back, "I said I thought it would be a good idea."

"You said we could try it for real..." his voice got weak, caught in his throat. Steve's amber eyes rounding while he looks at you, how the street lights dance across the jewelry he bought you, the gloss on your lips.

"When you got there," you corrected, "And what if you get there and that's not what you want anymore? There's a lot to offer guys like you in the city, Steve. It's a totally different world than the one I'm living in."

"I can bring you into it with me," he pleads, hands sneaking under your coat and finding your waist.

"Steve..." you say knowlingly, your shoulders sinking. Your fingers reach up and brush his hair out of his face, delicately following the line of his cheek.

"Nat, please, I..." his voice trails off when he realizes what he's about to say. You watch his Adam's apple bob while he swallows the words.

"Don't say it," you whisper softly, shaking your head, "You don't mean it."

A cab finally pulls in, and you take a glance at it over your shoulder. "I'm gonna go home, okay?" you ask. You turn to pull out of his hold, but he pulls you in desperately.

"Natalie..." disappointment soaks your name when he says it, "Just -- c'mon. We can forget this whole conversation. Please, come home with me."

You shake your head no.

"Please?" he begs, pulling you a little closer to him, "Please?"

You lean in to kiss him, taking him all in. His cologne, the way his lips taste, the way he moves his hands from your waist to your jaw. He wants to keep you there forever, pausing his life for however long it took to get bored of how our lips feel against his. He doesn't think there's a time when he will.

You break away when the cab beeps, brushing your nose against his like he does to you, "I had a really nice time."

"Me too," Steve kisses your forehead, swallowing the lump in his throat when he accepts that you're not staying the night, "Call me a little later? So I know you made it in okay?"

"Of course," you promise. It hurts to look at him like that, tears shining in his eyes that he’s trying to blink away.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile with your lips closed, afraid that if you open them you’ll never stop talking about all the things you’re afraid to talk to him about.

“Night,” he says while you turn to hurry towards the cab. As it drives away, you see him wipe at his nose and shake his head, crossing his arms tightly around himself to protect him from the cold now that you weren’t there to keep him warm.

Steve watches the cab leave with a lump in his throat, sniffling hard enough that the cold air burns the back of his throat. There's no way in hell you don't love him back, he thinks. There's no fucking way. When the red lights from the back of the cab disappear onto the city streets he turns back into the lobby, Last Christmas plays again softly over the speakers like it's mocking him. The tinny layments bouncing off the marble floor and back into his ears, down to his chest where his heart thumps painfully. Rob, and his secretary Muffy, stumble out of the elevator bank drunk with giggles and empty champagne flutes. He catches Steve walking towards the security desk and lets out a hearty laugh. "You goin' home alone Harrington?" he asks with a grin, "Shoulda let me know, would've brought your friend along. Three's company, huh?" Steve's jaw ticks but he ignores him, letting the gush of cold air soothe over his mixture of sadness and frustration while Muffy and Rob open the door. His shoes click on the marble as he approaches the desk, the music taunts him as he does it. 'A face of a lover with a fire in his heart, a man undercover but you tore me apart...'

"Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Harrington?" the attendant asks. Steve sighs, the breath comes out in a shudder, "Would you mind calling me another cab?" "Right away," he says warmly. Steve appreciates the kindness, he wishes he got the man a goodbye card. The sound of the phonecall for the car is muffled as Steve thinks about how it felt to dance with you, the warmth of your skin, your giggles at the mall, the way you kissed him goodmorning in his bed earlier. He swallows, tears pooling in his eyes. 'But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Special -- someone --' "Car should be here shortly."

"Thanks man, thanks so much," Steve says without turning around to face him. He wipes at his eyes with gloved hand, heading back into the cold to wait for the cab.

Alone.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff

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wufflesvetinari · 16 days

Note

'wyllstarion long engagement' for the ask game?

ewjrlkjewr GUYS........😂 now i really wish there was more in this document than a rough outline, damn. some of this was just plopped in-doc directly from my ramblings in the wyllstarion discord, so.

for @ushauz, @jellyfishline, @silverwhittlingknife, @acephalouscreature

wyllstarion long engagement is a nebulously-planned wyll POV fic in which spawnstarion completely fucks off after running from the sun at the docks. like, Does Not Even Leave A Note. at first.

it's yenna who passes wyll a half-understood message + a Meaningful Present from astarion (i have a yenna gen agenda, say it five times fast) implying that astarion is fine, he's okay, he just needs to be very far away from baldur's gate for an undetermined period of time. wyll pieces together that he's grieving the sun and also trying to figure out who he is without cazador's yoke. he seems to be putting deliberate space between himself and his companions as well

and wyll is a bit hurt because they had been Kind Of A Thing, in a nebulous and unspoken way without specific plans, but surely astarion understood wyll wanted to stay with him...? but then, within a couple of days, astarion sends word back via another gift. and he keeps on sending little things: little treasures from his travels, increasingly far off, referencing inside jokes they'd shared and things he's learned from wyll's stories about his childhood.

eventually even the method of receiving the gifts becomes exotic: once astarion is beyond the reach of sword coast courier services he's sending shit via like. messenger hawk. a tiny portal that shows up between two books on wyll's shelf, just big enough for a poem evidently torn from a rare volume by wyll's favorite poet--then crisply and fastidiously folded--to pass through. (what the fuck kind of circumstances required him to tear a page from a rare book? did he try to steal it and fail?? what??? these are the things wyll has to consider daily.)

eventually this expands to letter-writing. it feels like a continuation of their fragile courtship, but with some of the dynamic reversed, and it makes wyll miss him very badly while also feeling Known. BUT ALSO, IN WYLL-REPRESSION-LAND, wyll has his own shit going on and a part of him really wishes astarion had just stayed with him (wyll is grand duke here) or at least explained himself first. and he manages to suppress that bit until astarion gets home. Whereupon he suddenly finds that--even though he was genuinely loving those gifts and missing astarion very much and enjoying the sweetness of Courtship Part 2--he is suddenly mad at astarion. and they have to Talk, Finally

#ask game #meme #wyllstarion #bg3

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hornyhornyhimbos · 10 months

Text

to the person who anonymously asked about cowboy!steve and reader's future, this fic is not that. the fic you asked for will be coming very soon 🫶🏻

"Honky-Tonk Badonkadonk" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: A certain cowboy and his girl start reminiscing, what with all the things they have planned for their new bar. But maybe, just maybe, they get a tiny bit sidetracked along the way.

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,674

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) 69-ing and wall sex, semi-protected piv sex (reader has an IUD but they don't use condoms), oral both!receiving, fingering f!receiving, cum swallowing, creampie, slightly public sex but not really, nicknames (princess, sweetheart, cowgirl; cowboy, daddy one time), multiple orgasms for both steve ans reader, mentions of squirting but it doesn't actually happen, explicit language, takes place in a bar, probably more because this is filthy as hell

Extra Notes: this took me so long for no good reason, i am so sorry y'all

Originally Written: 04/25/2023 - 05/12/2023; re-written 06/12/2023 - 06/13/2023

Beta Read By: @writer-in-theory (ilysm!!)

filthy fridays can be found here!

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

You took one last look around what was once known as The Lucky Shot, nostalgia flowing through your veins.

The bar was finally starting to look like yours and Steve's, though you nearly shed a tear when he began to paint over the four-leaf clover mural you'd come to love. You were quite sad to see the old place go, but your heart warmed as you thought through all the new possibilities.

Only one piece remained from the old furniture, the little white sofa along the far wall, right next to where the dartboard previously hung. Steve had insisted on leaving it there for when the two of you needed breaks during your renovations, but thus far it had been abandoned.

As if on cue, Steve’s lips met your bare shoulder, placing a delicate peck beside the strap of your tank top. His hands settled on your hips, his voice exhausted and thick as he said, "Come on. Let's take a break."

You were inclined to argue with him. After all, the more work you did, the closer this bar was to being finished. Steve's fan base had been excited for an opening date ever since he'd announced the making of Harrington Brewing Co. Or whatever the two of you decided to name it.

You'd both gone back and forth on what to name the place ever since you'd signed the papers, but nothing had stuck yet. So, until then, you'd settled on Harrington Brewing Co.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, Steve guided you over to the couch, trailing kisses along any bare skin he could find. Sure, your fiancé always craved physical touch, but something about his gestures made you skeptical, wondering if he wanted those kisses to lead to more.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down onto the leather sofa. He let out a content sigh as he kissed your hair, holding you as close as humanly possible. "Can't believe we have a place that's officially ours."

You let out a sigh of your own, a wide smile taking over your face. "I know," you replied, craning your head to face him. "And just think, in a couple months, we'll be signing the papers on our first house together."

Steve's thumb drew small figure eights across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. "I can't believe you actually want to live with me until the day I die."

"Of course I do," you told him, planting your lips on his for a long overdue kiss. "It's not every day the world's sexiest cowboy asks you to marry him."

As silly as it sounded, it really was true. A national magazine had named Steve 'sexiest cowboy of the year' and you had yet to let him live it down. Any chance you got to mention it, you'd bring it up immediately. Once, when his best friend Dustin had called, you'd even answered the phone with, "You've reached the Harrington residence: home of the sexiest cowboy alive!"

He pulled you back in for another kiss, his hands planted firmly on your hips as he rolled you over. You knew this was the moment those little gestures had been leading up to, but for some reason, you couldn't force yourself to care. You just kept on kissing him.

You could feel his hard-on bump your thigh when his hips rutted, his hands moving to your ass as he rutted them a second time. You moaned as your own hips shifted, his length pressing against the front of your shorts.

"Baby," you said against his lips, "are you ready to call it a day? Head home?"

Steve's lips chased after yours, working your bottom lip between his teeth. He managed to shake his head as he pulled away. "No. I want to take you right here on this couch."

Your heart thumped so loud it made your ears ring. On the one hand, you'd always been kind of curious about public sex. On the other hand, you really couldn't tell if Steve was being serious. "Steve, anybody could-"

"Babe, it's not like anyone's gonna come in here. The place doesn't even have an 'Open For Business' sign. Besides, Harrington's Honky-Tonk isn't exactly in the town square."

You knew by the sharpness of his words that he was joking when he'd called the place by that name, but something about it felt exactly right. "That's it! That's what we'll name it. Harrington's Honky-Tonk."

"We are most definitely not naming it that, but if agreeing gets me one step closer to having my dick shoved inside you, I will gladly agree."

You rolled your eyes, your lips landing on his for a triumphant peck. "Thank you. Now, do that thing you were doing a minute ago."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Dirty talking and making me feel like the luckiest girl alive."

His hands gripped your waist, pushing you down against his hard-on. You gasped as he brushed against you, the friction of his jeans absolutely painful through the sheer material of your shorts. "You are the only one who has ever gotten me this hard, you know that?"

Of course you did, he reminded you every time you found yourself in a position like this. "Uh-huh," you managed, your breath caught in your throat.

"I think you should be the one to do something about it, yeah?"

You nodded, slowly moving your hand to the fastening of his jeans. His hand gripped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "No, no, not yet. I want you to cum first. Sit on my face, princess."

You cocked an eyebrow, your hands moving back to the button of his pants. "Who said we can't do both at the same time?"

"Shit," he chuckled, lifting his hips to help you pull his boxers and pants down. You didn't think Steve's cock could get any prettier, but something about the way the natural sunlight was shining around him on that couch… it had your mouth watering. "Have I ever told you I love you?"

You maneuvered yourself higher so you could remove your own bottoms. "A couple times," you smirked, moving to hover above him.

You slowly lowered yourself onto his mouth, his tongue immediately going to work. His hands met your hips, helping you find a steady rhythm against his mouth.

His tongue lapped at your hole, and you were already feeling weak. A sigh left your parted lips as you lowered your mouth onto his cock, your lips fitting around the head like the perfect puzzle piece.

He moaned against your clit, the vibration only pushing you further toward the edge. He left kitten licks in all the places you needed them, eliciting a whine from your lips that was silenced by his cock.

Steve lifted your hips, his mouth parting from your cunt. Your body ached with need, and you nearly pouted around his cock when he removed his mouth. "I meant what I said." He paused in between sentences to kiss your core. "I want you to cum first."

"Well, cowboy," you said, traveling one of your hands down to his balls, squeezing them in the way you knew he loved. "We'll just have to see about that."

The further into your relationship you got, the more of a competition it was to make each other cum. Whether that be you making Steve cum the hardest or him making you cum more than him, the two of you seemed to have a little competition going. Not that you were complaining. He'd made you squirt three times in one night just last week. Who were you to say anything?

His tongue plunged in and out of your hole, creating the perfect pace. You moaned pornographically around his length, your hand squeezing at his heavy balls. Your hips rolled against his face, no doubt soaking the mustache he'd been growing out. This was by no means the first time he'd eaten you out with a mustache, yet somehow, the sensation got even better every time it happened.

Your hips rutted time and time again, chasing down your high. He worked his tongue in heavenly figure eights, drinking up every drop your body had to offer him. Want filled your entire body, burning in your fingertips and curling your toes. You forced the rest of his length into your mouth, coming apart as you whimpered around it. Your cunt fluttered on his tongue, Steve's hips canting in response. Nothing got Steve off quicker than you cumming on his tongue. You knew his release was right behind yours.

He worked you through your orgasm, suckling softly on your clit and holding tight to your love handles. A muffled string of moans tumbled from your lips as you fucked your mouth with his cock, your hand fondling his tight balls. With one last thrust of your mouth, he came undone, his load shooting down your throat in warm spurts. You milked his cock, swallowing down everything his body would give you.

Your spent body fell flush on top of Steve, his dick still halfway hard as you held him in your hand. His chest rose and fell underneath you as he attempted to catch his breath. "Cowgirl, you find new ways to amaze me every day."

"You're not so bad yourself, Stevie." His cock twitched at the nickname. Your fingers traced circles around his thigh, a content sigh escaping your lips. "You ready to call it a day yet, cowboy?"

"Not yet," he answered. "There's one last thing we need to do before we leave. Up."

At his instruction, you pushed yourself off the couch, tugging your shorts back up. Steve wrapped his hand around yours, stopping your motions. "Who said it had anything to do with your clothes being on?"

Heat rushed through your cheeks as he stood and, in one swift motion, had your legs wrapped around his waist. He backed you up against the wall, the bricks digging into your skin but somehow managing to only aid your senses. His lips met your neck, nipping and sucking at the pulse point. One of his arms managed to hold your body up while the other moved in between your bodies, his thumb catching your clit in a round of intoxicating circles. Your lips fell into an open 'O' as noiseless gasps and moans fell out.

"God, you're so pretty," he whispered against the shell of your ear. "Can't believe I haven't done this yet."

Your brows pinched together in both confusion and pleasure. "D-Done what?" you managed to ask, words seeming utterly impossible as he worked at your core.

"Christened this bar with you," he answered. His lips all but attacked your neck again, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. One of his digits teased your entrance, and your hips canted against it.

You let out a moan, though confusion had fully taken over your face by this point. "Christened the bar?"

He nodded, licking over a newly purple spot on your neck. "We've owned this bar for a whole two weeks and we haven't fucked in here yet."

"Is that what you call this, Harrington?" you attempted to tease, but even you knew it was a pathetic attempt. Your voice bordered on strangled as you said, "Pretty sure fucking involves having something inside me."

His finger finally made its way inside your aching hole, the breath nearly being knocked out of your lungs. "Yeah? How's that, sweetheart?"

A string of moans tumbled off your tongue, your back arching against the bricks. "Oh, Steve," you sighed, your eyes screwing shut at the pleasure.

"Hey, baby, you think you can keep those pretty eyes open for me?" he asked, his tone sweet like he wasn't actively shoving a second finger inside you as he spoke. "Need you to see the only man who can make you feel this good."

You all but pried your eyes open, meeting his lust-filled irises. His fingers pumped in and out of you at the perfect pace, and soon, you were on the edge of cumming a second time.

He flexed the digits inside you, brushing your G-spot every time they moved. You moaned his name like a record stuck on a loop, your eyes watering as your second orgasm approached. His mouth melded to yours, catching you in a sloppy make-out session as he drove his fingers even further inside you. You'd died and gone to heaven, that was the only real explanation as to how this man could make you feel so damn good.

Euphoria took over your body, his fingers working your spent hole as you tried poorly to catch your breath. A string of profanities and whimpers fell from your tongue as he removed the digits, holding them to your mouth. You licked and sucked on his fingers, hypnotized by your taste.

He met your lips with a juxtaposing soft kiss, his hands moving to hold both sides of your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Did so good, baby."

"Steve," you teased breathlessly, though it sounded more like a moan. "You still haven't properly fucked me yet."

"So greedy, princess," he teased back, lining himself up with your entrance. "Just can't get enough of me, can you?" He slowly pushed inside, and you fell limp against his chest. "You alright?" he asked, half serious and half playfully.

You managed to nod, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling from your parted lips. "Need you to help me out here, please," you all but begged.

He chuckled, meeting your forehead with a soft kiss and slowly pulling out of you. "Good girl," he cooed, gradually sliding his cock back into you. "Telling daddy what you want, yeah?"

It wasn't often that the two of you indulged in your daddy kink, but when you did, it never ceased to make you feel like the most special girl in the world. Your hips somehow found a way to pick up their pace again, rocking against Steve's at a delicious pace.

His hands helped guide you, your bodies practically fusing together as you met each other in the perfect rhythm. He twitched inside you as you pulsed around him, his lips trailing kisses along the skin that your tank top didn't cover. Your hands held tight to the hair on the nape of his neck, moans vibrating along your breasts.

His orgasm came first, his thick seed shooting inside you as he continued working you on his length. "Fuck's" and "Shit's" tumbled from his lips and his hips canted, his thumb moving to rub frenzied circles on your clit. Your climax burned through your body, eyes crossing as he abused your hole. You chanted his name like a mantra, like it was your lifeline.

Steve held you close as he lowered you down the wall, his lips meeting your forehead with a juxtaposing softness. He chuckled against the crease between your brow, "Thank god for IUDs, right?"

You let out a soft, shaky giggle as you reached for your panties. Your hands trembled, failing to get a good enough grip to pull them up.

Steve caught your struggle, giving you a playful smile and pulling your underwear and shorts back on for you. He zipped up his jeans with quickness, then held your hand and led you toward the door. His lips connected to your bare shoulder, the softness grounding you for a moment. "Let's go home, yeah?"

You wobbled back to his truck, your chest still heaving as you processed all that had just happened, his cum still deep inside you. He pulled the door open for you, a smirk settling on your lips as you eyed his ass. "You wanna know something, cowboy?"

He chuckled at your expression, knowing that tone all too well. "Yeah?"

Your hand met his ass, grabbing the curve of his jeans. "I think that is why they call it a honky-tonk badonkadonk."

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

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sareeen · 8 months

Text

Soft melodies

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x fem!reader

Summary: Sometimes emotions can be so confusing, especially when it comes to the enemy.

A/N: Back after a long break. I hope you're not disappointed with this chapter and thank you to all of you who are still waiting for the chapters.

Masterlist (with all my fics and previous chapters)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake. :)

A cold wind ruffled Y/N's hair as she stepped out on the balcony. She pulled on the thin robe she had quickly put on as she got out of bed to cover her naked body. She looked back and watched Eris sprawled out on the huge bed. He was naked, the blanket had been thrown on the floor sometime during the night and now his muscular body was on full display. Y/N's eyes lazily ran over the pretty bottom and toned torso and then smiled as Eris moved. For a while he fumbled around as if looking for her, but finally settled for a small pillow, which he now held tightly against him.

Y/N turned away with a sigh and closed her eyes. She enjoyed the icy breeze and the lightly falling snow, which held meaningful memories for her.

December, seven years ago:

Y/N cut through the snow-covered streets of Velaris. A few strands of hair had slipped out from under her cap, now clinging sweatily to her neck as she dodged passers-by. She held at least four bags in each hand, and even managed to squeeze a heavy package under her right arm. But as tired and sweaty as she was, the smile could not be wiped from her face. Solstice was coming, her favourite holiday of the year. After all, who doesn't love decorating the house, snuggling under the covers to escape the cold and receiving presents?

The family home was not far away when something caught her eye in the window of a shop. Slowly, she moved closer, almost afraid to look at the object.

It was a tiny box, something that would probably have been completely unimportant to many people, but for her there was something about it that drew her to it. Beautifully crafted, gilded leaves ran along the sides, curving straight up to the top of the brown box, which had an oak tree carved into it.

Suddenly a hand grasped the piece and when Y/N looked up she found herself face to face with amber eyes.

I can't believe it, I must be hallucinating, she thought to herself.

"Do you like it?"

Although they were separated by a glass, she was still able to read Eris' lips. A smug expression was on his face and he turned the box in his hand as he watched her.

She literally burst into the shop after recovering from the shock.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned the moment she set a foot inside. "I could kill you for that!"

Eris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" There was a mirth behind the man's meek tone. "Maybe you'll throw one of those bags at me? Choke me with your scarf? You know, I think I'd enjoy the strangling if you did it."

"Shut up and answer me!" Y/N clenched her fist in annoyance, which Eris watched with bursting happiness.

"So, should I shut up or respond? You know I can't do both at the same time" he continued.

She just crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him hostilely. It's a pose and a look she learned from her mother when she was little, because it would break any man in an instant.

Eris sighed.

"I was at your uncle's," he said and tossed the box, then before it fell to the ground he quickly reached out and caught it. His index finger brushed over and over the gold leaves, giving Y/N the impression that he might not be as calm as he pretended to be.

"What for?"

"Matters of concern to High Lords," he replied tersely, and fixed his gaze on one of the gold cages, in which a yellow bird was chirping.

"You're not a High Lord," she watched as his shoulder tensed at those words and he turned to her. The look in his eyes was almost scorching and promised such danger that Y/N unconsciously took a step back.

"Indeed, I am not," Eris replied, then turned his attention back to the little bird. Carefully he reached through the bars of the cage and to Y/N's dismay the animal let himself be petted. Eris's finger glided along the yellow wings with a gentleness that Y/N would never have expected from such a cruel, amoral person.

"Not yet" he added quietly moments later.

His face was reserved and he seemed out of reach, as if he were not just an arm's length away from Y/N, but light years away. In Y/N's soul, an overwhelming feeling arose that was all too similar to pity.

But why should she feel sorry for him? This man was sin and cruelty itself.

Yet as he stood before her, stroking the bird, she was unable to just walk away.

"And how long will you stay?" she hated that her voice had softened and sounded almost hopeful.

"Oh, I'll be home today," Eris replied, then looked at her mischievously. "Sure, if you want me to stay the night."

Y/N snorted and decided to leave him here instead.

"Dream on"

"We are in the Court of Dreams, aren't we? Where else can I dream but here?"

He followed her out into the street, where meanwhile the snow had begun to fall in large flakes. Since Eris had no cap, within moments thousands of tiny snowflakes adorned his hair, slowly melting away, leaving his locks wet.

"How do you know so much about Velaris?" Y/N asked grimly, glancing around. A few people were starting to take notice, which was no surprise to her, since he wasn't just anyone standing in front of her. However, she knew that it would not end well if this got back to her family, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest secluded street.

"I've been alive longer than you, sweetheart," Eris leaned against the brick building behind him, but he was still much taller than her and she had to look up at him. "I've been here long before you were born, but to answer your question your uncle and I had business that forced him to share information about this town."

Too many questions swirled in Y/N's mind, but she controlled herself. This was not the time to start questioning him, so she forced herself to remain calm.

"Go home, Lord Vanserra," Y/N said, adjusting the packs in her hands, which felt more and more heavy. "You have no business in our town or our shops."

There was a momentary flash of sadness in Eris's eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that Y/N thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

"I'm going home" he answered without any argument, surprising Y/N. "On one condition."

"Of course" Y/N rolled her eyes. Where did she think he was going to do what she wanted?

"I'll walk you home" Eris declared, to which Y/N immediately started to protest.

"Absolutely not!"

However, the man stood adamantly in front of her and didn't move a muscle. He was like an unruly boulder that someone would try to drag out of the way, unsuccessfully.

"To the Great Mother," Y/N growled, and raised her gaze to the sky. She wanted to stomp like a little kid who's had her favourite toy taken away from her. "You are so annoying!"

"But Lady Y/N, how do you talk?" Eris' amber eyes sparkled with glee. "A lady does not refuse a gentleman's noble offer."

"You're not a gentleman" Y/N muttered, but finally sighed in resignation. "Very well"

With that, she thrust the bags into Eris's hands and raised an eyebrow.

"If you're going to walk me home, I might as well get some use out of you" she added recklessly. She just couldn't help herself, even though she knew who he was. He brought something out of her, something that made her want to poke him and watch Eris's eyes twist or sparkle. She hated him, it was true, but there was still a part of her that wanted to play this dangerous game between the two of them.

"How cruel" Eris whispered with a fierce grin.

For a moment they just looked at each other, and it made Y/N shudder. Her mind was screaming that this was all wrong and she should run away or she would just end up burning herself, but she couldn't. She had felt it the first time they had danced together, but now she was fully aware of it.

"We have to take the long way round" her voice was hoarse when she finally managed to speak. "They can't see us together."

"Of course" Eris said in agreement and gestured. "After you."

With shaking legs, she moved and heard him follow. Every nerve in her body tuned to him as he walked beside her and she exhaled the air she held in her lungs.

Everything would be all right, she reassured herself.

It was so surreal, because not long ago when she'd seen him, she'd felt like gouging his eyes out. Now she was almost happy to be walking with him home. Something was very wrong with her. It was as if her emotions were in a tailspin, one minute she was happy to be with him, the next she wanted to kill him.

That's how the whole way home went, with her brooding and him walking quietly beside her. But when they reached the door, he carefully placed the bags in her hands and looked down at her. His amber eyes gleamed like two jewels in the fairy lights, for it was well after dark by the time they reached the house. The man's gaze slid to her lips, making Y/N catch her breath.

"Well, Lady Y/N," Eris' voice was soft and kind, as if they hadn't been bickering for an hour. "It was nice to see you again."

"Are you really trying to be a gentleman?" Y/N smiled incredulously.

"You don't like it perhaps?" Eris asked back cheerfully.

"No" Y/N clutched the gifts to herself. "That's not you and it's not very exciting."

The man lowered his head and chuckled.

"Noted, Lady Y/N" he bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress his emerging smile. "I'm going to be a real asshole again."

"You finally admit you are one."

At this, he threw his head back and burst out laughing. She smiled at him, but still felt like betraying her own family. Good heavens, how would poor Aunt Mor feel if she knew that she was laughing with this man outside?

When the thought struck her, her mood vanished and she cleared her throat.

"Thank you for walking me home, but now it's time for you to go home," she told Eris.

"Of course" Eris frowned and bowed slightly to her. "Goodbye"

Y/N watched him walk away without a word and she literally fled inside the house.

Only a few days later, while wrapping presents, she saw that the man had sneaked something into one of the bags.

Carefully, she took the tiny box in her trembling hands and smoothed the gold leaves over the sides, then opened it. A low, soft melody broke the silence of the room. But what caught her attention was the folded note at the bottom of the box and the words on it.

Happy Solstice, Y/N.

I hope the music box I made brings sweet dreams for you.

E. "asshole" V.

Y/N closed her teary eyes and listened to the music, which seemed to crawl straight to the depths of her soul.

Her heart had just gotten her into the worst trouble.

#eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court #eris x you #eris x y/n #acotar #a court of thrones and roses

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kyskaisen · 11 months

Text

your only golden girl.

i've been dead af lately☠ i have a few drafts that i'm working on rn so ima work on that after this but rn i have the best idea for maki content >:)

Paring: Maki Zenin x F!Reader

warnings: a bit of a yandere theme? idk, she's just a bit possessive here, that's all,, suggestive ig tho nothing really happens, my writing quality turning to shit

word count: 1.9k

note: i'm obsessed with her. ☠

on days where maki would be humbled when she would always pride in herself as 'cool and collected,' it would always be when someone was taking up too much of your time; be it panda, toge, yuji or even gojo, she'd always find herself in a mood and having a frown on her face for days on end. whenever that happens, you'd always have to guess what's wrong, and you almost never get it right, so you're left in a mood as well when maki wouldn't tell you what's wrong with the same exact saying, 'figure it out.'

when she was moody, it affected everyone else, too. she'd always take her anger out on training, being too rough with whoever her training partner is (if it's whoever's been hogging up your time, she'd go twice as hard, leaving them sore afterwards) and not think about how humbled she just got. it would affect how everyone focuses in classes which all of you don't really need as jujutsu sorcerers. for example, when maki was pissed off at megumi one day for being your training partner instead of her, she ripped off tiny pieces of paper, took a straw that she used from lunch earlier that day, and kept shooting paper wads through it, aiming it straight at megumi. it was also one of those uncommon times where she was a bit childish (even when she tells everyone she's not).

and today was one of those days when maki walked out onto the training field and saw that you were training with toge. it made her blood boil, because why would you choose to train with someone else over her, your own girlfriend? what's even worse is that you're not even noticing how mad she is, this is usually the time when you're supposed to be comforting her, making her feel like your golden girl. your only golden girl.

"panda," maki turned to face the cursed corpse next to her, resting her pole arm over he shoulder. he glanced at the clearly fuming maki as he gulped in fear, not ready to face her wrath. "yeah?"

"c'mon, you're gonna be my training partner." she demanded, not waiting for any complaints or objections from panda as she was already stomping onto the field. panda sighed as he mentally prepared himself for the beating he's about to receive.

on your side of the field, you were actually having a bit of fun. nobara, your underclassman, decided to watch as you and toge were training, even added commentary when one of you fell or missed a swing. it was a bit irritating, but fun nonetheless.

"it's hot outside, why's maki-san wearing long sleeves?" nobara asked, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on her knee just to rest her chin in her palm, looking over at maki and panda. you looked away from toge who was laying on the ground and looked at maki who was sweating like a pig, though you couldn't see from that distance. she was clearly getting a bit overheated, from all the moving around, the boiling temperatures, and that dark purple long sleeve shirt that she wore on purpose.

you sighed, shaking your head briefly as you set your training weapon down. you plopped down on the ground a second later, sighing as you were finally sitting in the shade provided by the big tree. nobara tapped her chin with her finger, watching maki move quickly and wacking panda everywhere with her pole arm.

"it's like, 85 degrees out. how is she not dying?" nobara pressed as she lifted her brow. you pursed your lips, looking back at maki with a deadpan stare, "she has a habit of doing that. i don't think she realizes how hot it is, she must think she's immune to it or something." you admit as you're watching her move slower and slower. you're wrong; she does realize it, and she knows very well that she's burning up, but nobody else knows that it's her own way of getting you to worry about her, eventually taking care of her in the end and reminding her (yourself more than her) that she's your golden girl.

"maki, you're completely drenched," panda commented as he swayed to the side, avoiding maki's embarrassingly slow punch. if there's a first time for everything, there's a first time for maki giving a weak punch, and that was today. panda frowned, watching maki strain herself with red cheeks and a sweaty body. he figures that it's the shirt, not to mention those black leggings she's wearing. it's like she was asking for a heat stroke, and she might as well, considering you haven't come over to take care of her yet.

"maki, stop. you need to take a break, you look like you're on your last days and you're still throwing punches," panda grabbed maki by her wrist, holding her still, getting a good look at her beet red face and the sweat that stuck her bangs to her forehead. her mouth was dry, her throat was burning, and her arms were tired, she might as well plop down to the ground and bake in the sun.

panda sighed, watching her drop to the ground. he looked around for you and toge, then waved at you, him and nobara for all of you to come over. when you and toge looked at each other with the same expression, the three of you got up from your spots to rush over to where maki had fallen.

"is she ok?" you ask once you reach her, leaning down to grab her by the arm and try your best to lift her up. it took her every ounce of will power to hold back a shit-eating grin on maki's face as you were lifting her up, throwing her big arm over your shoulder. panda sighs as he scratches the back of his head, "yeah, i think she's just a little hot from all that training."

"probably," you reply as you turn to face her red face; the flush even reached her neck, from what you could see (which wasn't much). thank god for deodorant, if she didn't have that on she would've stunk twice as bad.

"whatever, i'll take her to shoko," you say as you turn around, your other hand holding her wrist as you make your way to the building, maki limping the whole way there.

shoko was in the middle of playing tetris when the two of you came in; she looked up from her computer to find you and maki walking through the door. she looked so surprised, seeing maki's the one being taken in and not the other way around, considering the line of aching students she sends to her.

she clicks her tongue, getting up from her desk as you set maki down on the counter where everyone usually sits (minus panda) despite shoko telling everyone not to sit there. she spent a few months telling everyone to not sit on the counters, but eventually gave up after even gojo was sitting on the counters.

"what happened to her," shoko asks cheekily as she grabs a thermometer from one of the cups sitting further down the counter. you sigh, watching maki open her mouth and let shoko stick the instrument underneath her tongue, then roll your eyes. "she wore that damn shirt in this hot ass weather, that's what happened."

"in 85 degree heat?" shoko frowns a bit. "that's a bit odd, you'd think she'd at least bring water with her--" shoko pauses to glance at maki as the thermometer rests in her mouth. "you did bring water, did you?"

maki hums in response, as she can't say anything or nod her head, then shoko sighs before the thermometer goes off. she immediately took it out of her mouth and checked the numbers, then clicked her tongue.

"maki, i suggest you lay off on training and classes tomorrow or the next few days," she shows the temperature to you both. "you've got a fever of 103.5."

"how did i get a fever from that?" you and maki both hopped off the counter at the same time. you rolled your eyes as you grabbed maki by the arm. "next time don't wear dark colors and long sleeve shirts in 85 degree heat." you tease as you drag her out of shoko's office, not even letting her get the chance to tell maki to get a cold shower tonight (though she probably already knows).

"did you do laundry or something? cuz i know you had other alternatives," you question as you open maki's door (she left it unlocked just for you to walk in whenever you wanted to, regardless of what she might be doing), dragging her in and shutting the door. maki knew you'd ask that question if the situation did lead to you bringing her back to her own room to treat her there, so earlier this morning she took out all her shirts in her wardrobe and put them in her dirty laundry basket and took it down to the laundry room and shoved everything in there.

"i did, i just forgot to take it out this morning," she lies as she watches you open up her wardrobe. when you think she's telling the truth, seeing that nothing's in there, you shut the doors and turn to face her.

"well, i guess you should go take a cold shower," you cringe as you slowly begin to make your way out of her room, her eyes following your creeping figure the whole time. when you reach the door and set your hand on the door knob, she springs up from her bed and catches your shoulders, pinning you on the floor.

there's a grin on her face when she watches you wriggle underneath her, trying to escape her impossibly superhuman grip. she inches closer, your faces barely an inch away from each other as she watches the worried look on your face. she hums, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek, "i did that on purpose, sweetheart."

when the nickname leaves her soft lips, there's a shock that rings quickly throughout your body. you didn't know what it was, nor what sparked it, but it felt weird, and the nickname itself made you feel weird. and she knows, she knows that the shock rung even in your bones, she knows part of you tingled a bit when she called you 'sweetheart,' she knows it all, because she knows everything about you, even more than you know about yourself.

"i did that so you could come to my aid, to help out your precious little angel," all the times you called her an angel seemed fake as her tone sounded sinful, her voice leaving your cheek and trailing down to your neck. "and here we are, just how i planned it."

"m-maki," your hand comes up to run your fingers through her emerald green hair, sighing blissfully as her lips ghosted the skin of your pretty neck. she grins upon hearing your soft moans and sighs of bliss, then runs a streak on your neck with her tongue, almost making you jump.

maki's hand snakes down to your hip, holding you in place as she continues her ministrations. you squirm a little, waiting on her to do something else before squealing as her teeth nipped your skin.

"hmm, always so good for me," she hums in satisfaction, her hand slithering underneath your shirt to rest on your side. her cold hand against your warm skin sent chills all around your body.

"always so good for your golden girl." she coos, trailing her hand further up to your chest.

this would've been smut but i'm a minor☠

#maki zenin x reader #maki x reader #maki zenin #nobara kugisaki #inumaki toge #jjk x you #panda jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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