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rynbutt · 2 months

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pierced. | spencer reid.

Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr

a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3

You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.

Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.

You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).

You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.

"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."

There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.

You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.

You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"

"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.

Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.

You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.

Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.

"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.

"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"

"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"

"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"

"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.

"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"

"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.

"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.

"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.

"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.

It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.

You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.

"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"

Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."

"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.

"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.

"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.

"Spencer," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.

"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."

You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.

"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"

"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.

"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.

"So... you do?" You asked.

"...No, I don't." He muttered.

"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.

"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.

"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.

"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.

"Bye, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.

"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.

"Shut up!"

reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #spencer reid #fluff #spencer reid fluff #x reader #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #spencer fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #reid #criminal minds spencer

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daisynik7 · 8 months

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Teach Me, Senpai!

Pairing: Ino x f!reader x Nanami

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: smut - threesome, spit-roast, PIV sex (doggy style), blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Nanami is sorta a perv oops, Ino calls Nanami senpai, a hint of a breeding kink, use of pet names, everyone is an adult here in case that doesn’t come across clearly

Summary: Takuma Ino is your silly, golden retriever boyfriend who brings you along to meet his mentor, Nanami Kento. You’ve heard a lot about him, mostly because your boyfriend constantly praises him for being so amazing. You underestimate how close their relationship is until Ino starts asking his "senpai" for pointers on how to spice things up in the bedroom. What better way to learn than to demonstrate, right?

Author’s Note: I'm currently in heat, can you blame me? I tried my best to edit and proofread, sorry if there are any glaring grammar mistakes or typos, please ignore! Tagging @todorosie @crazychaoticizzy @gojoloves @brightnessemma @batafuraikisu (I know you didn't ask, but I'm tagging you anyways bc ily and I think you'd like this lol). I'm sorry if I missed any tags, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

“You’re going to love him, I swear!” Ino insists, dragging you down the hallway of the office building, past empty cubicles. It’s past five and all the employees are out for the remainder of the day.

“I just don’t see why I have to meet him,” you argue, following him reluctantly.

“Because he’s important to me! He’s my mentor, my senpai! I have the highest respect for him, and I think it’s cool for you to finally put a face to a name. Aren’t you curious about the guy I’m always talking about?”

“Not really,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Honestly, you’ve grown sick of hearing your boyfriend gush so much about this Nanami fellow. You’re starting to feel jealous about how highly he thinks of this other man. “Why are we even here? This seems like a very random meeting spot.”

“We debrief here sometimes after our missions. He used to be a salary man, so I guess they still let him use the office.” They arrive at a closed door at the end of the hall. Ino knocks twice, a bright smile on his face, a little too excited for this.

A well-built blonde man answers, donning a blue dress shirt and spotted tie. You immediately notice how large his hands are, clenched to the door frame, staring at you from behind steampunk glasses. “Hello.”

“Nanami! Hey! This is my girlfriend, the one I’ve been telling you about.” You introduce yourself to him with a handshake, confirming that they are indeed very big compared to yours. You feel guilty noticing something that can be misconstrued as inappropriate, even lewd in most cases, so you quickly let the thought fade, stepping inside the room.

It’s a normal looking office, quite barren, except for the few papers stacked on the desk and a map posted on one of the walls. There’s a single chair facing the table, so you take that as Ino stands beside you, arm around your shoulders. “Thanks for letting us stop by. I really wanted to introduce you two to each other.”

Nanami nods curtly, leaning on the edge of the desk in front of you. Your eyes almost drift toward his crotch, curious about his size, but you resist the temptation, ashamed of yourself for even imagining something so completely wrong, especially with your boyfriend right next to you. “You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” he says, focusing on Ino. He removes his glasses, tucking them in his breast pocket.

“Ah, right! Well, I’m a little shy to ask, especially since I haven’t mentioned it to her yet…” Ino scratches his nape nervously, tugging his beanie to cover his reddening ears.

You look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He bites his lip, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “Well, you know how you and I have been…you know, having some trouble in the bedroom?”

At that, you immediately freeze, gaping at him, shocked. A strangled noise comes out of Nanami’s throat, equally jarred.

Ino continues. “I want to get some advice from someone I really trust, like Nanami.” He glances between you, waiting for a response, an uneasy grin on his face.

You’re stunned, heat surrounding your entire body now, mortified that your boyfriend would casually bring this up without any warning whatsoever. It’s no secret to either of you that your sex life has gotten a bit lackluster recently. Besides missionary and the occasional blowjob, there isn’t much else that you’ve tried in the bedroom. Neither of you are that experienced to begin with, and you both lack the confidence to initiate something different, something new. It’s a matter that you’ve been meaning to resolve privately. Or so you thought.

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. You’re tempted to grab your boyfriend and haul ass out of there, hoping this entire conversation can be forgotten or played up to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. However, you remain seated, curiously anticipating Nanami’s response. After all, you haven’t flat-out refused yet, and neither has he.

Nanami clears his throat. “What kind of advice do you need?” You’re surprised that he’s even entertaining the idea.

“I just want a few tips on how to spice things up,” Ino answers. “Make it more enjoyable for her.” He puts his arm around you again, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t know whether to punch him or kiss him; the arousal growing between your legs says the latter. The thought of another man who’s practically a stranger instructing your eager boyfriend on how to pleasure you is titillating and definitely something different, something new. You won’t deny it: you’re intrigued.

Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding either of your gazes, focused on the floor instead. “I will help, if you both consent to it.”

Ino turns to you with puppy dog eyes. “Babe, you cool with this?”

Too invested now to refuse, you reply, “Sure.”

Your boyfriend lets out a sigh of relief, the tension relaxing in the air surrounding you. “Sweet. Me too.” He looks at Nanami, a bright smile on his face now, clearly thrilled about this. “What’s first, senpai?”

Nanami clears his throat again, standing up straight, taking a step towards you. “Well, foreplay is always a good place to start.”

Ino sticks his finger up. “Right! Foreplay. Uh, do you have a pen and paper so I can take notes…?”

“You don’t seriously need to take notes on foreplay, do you?” he snaps. “It’s as simple as kissing and touching on all the right spots.”

“What spots are those?”

“It’s probably better if you ask her.” Nanami points to you, making direct eye contact. “Where do you like to be touched?”

You swallow hard, timid from being put on the spot like this. “Just the normal places.”

“The two of you have to communicate better if this is ever going to work out,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Show him.”

Committing to this fully now, you stand up, grab Ino’s hand and brush it against your lips. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you touch my lips.”

He smiles at you. “That’s good.”

“You can also put your fingers in my mouth every once in a while. If you want,” you suggest, licking the tip of his middle finger.

He smirks. “Yeah. I definitely want that, too.”

“Sometimes, it’s better to learn by doing it,” Nanami interjects, watching the two of you carefully.

You gaze at Ino’s lips, then into his eyes, nodding. He leans in, kissing you slowly. He’s always been a good kisser, a great one, actually. The problem is that he’s too gentle with you.

“Kiss her neck,” Nanami orders, arms at his sides now, hands clenched into tight fists.

Ino follows, trailing down your chin until he’s at your neck, sucking on your skin.

“Put your fingers in her mouth. She said she likes that, right?”

Ino hums, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb before pushing it in. You surround him, using your grip to pump him in and out of you. His other hand drifts to your waist, teasing the elastic of your pants.

“Are you getting wet, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice is low and sultry; the use of the pet name has you unraveling much quicker than you expect. Without thinking, you breathe out, “Yes,” pushing his fingers deeper down your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” Ino moans, hot on your ear. “Where else do you want to be touched?”

You pull him out, swallowing your thick saliva, placing his hand between your legs. “Touch me here.”

Ino, eyes glossy with lust, slowly shimmies your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. “Oh shit, you really are wet, fuck.”

“Eat her out,” Nanami demands. There’s a desperate gruffness in his voice that’s undeniable now, and one glance is all it takes for you to realize that he’s hard, an impressive bulge strained in his slacks. He shoves all his belongings off the desk, making room for you. “Here. Do it here.”

Ino curses under his breath, cock stiff in his sweats, leading you to the table, where you sit at the edge, spreading your thighs open for him. He slips your panties off, licking his lips before diving into your arousal, tongue pressed firmly on your clit. “Fuck,” you moan, squirming from the sensation.

Nanami walks to the other side, near your head, staring at Ino’s face buried in your pussy. Instinctually, you reach for him, pulling him by the belt, tongue hanging out. His eyes flit to yours, surprised when you say, “Touch me, senpai.”

Ino moans into you, clearly turned on by it. Obliging, Nanami hoists your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra, which he hastily unhooks to bare your chest. Bending towards you, he wraps his lips around one breast, suckling at your teat, his hand working the other nipple, pinched between his fingers. You’re close to your climax; you just need a little bit more. As if he can read your mind, Nanami releases you with a pop, saying, “Suck on her clit until she comes. Fuck her with your fingers at the same time.” His sudden vulgarity spurs you on, grinding your hips against your boyfriend’s face, pulling Nanami back to your tits.

Ino muffles, puckering his lips around you, sliding his middle finger inside you. You throw your head back on the desk, ecstasy rippling through your entire being, knees shaking with sensitivity.

“Yeah, she likes that,” Nanami purrs, flicking his tongue on your peaked nipples. “Put another in. One at a time, until she’s full.”

Ino manages to fit three of his digits inside you before you orgasm with him latched to your swelling bud, coating him in your slick. He doesn’t stop licking until you’ve come down from your high, pushing his head away, overstimulated. Nanami removes himself from you, unbuckling his belt, watching intently as your boyfriend slips his wet fingers inside your mouth. “Taste yourself babe. You’re so fucking good.” You slurp your own juices off him, pussy throbbing, aching to be fucked.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Nanami murmurs, shimmying out of his pants, erection protruding from his briefs. He palms it, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot oozing from the tip. “Ino, tease her a little bit.”

“Yes sir,” he salutes, pulling down his bottoms, cock sprung against the hem of his sweater. He taps the tip of his dick on your puffy bud, smiling wide as you writhe for him. “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you this wet before.”

“It’s a good thing you came to me then, isn’t it?” Nanami mentions, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Now turn around for us, princess. It’s going to feel so much better for you like this.”

You obey, readjusting your body to bend over the desk, ass pushed towards Ino, desperate to be used by them both. Your boyfriend positions his cock at your entrance, huffing, “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah. Fuck me, Ino,” you moan. “Fuck me hard.”

He glides in slowly, stretching you out little by little, easing into you. Once he’s all the way in, groin pressed to your ass, he starts thrusting at a steady pace. It increases gradually until he’s pounding away at you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until your eyes glaze over, in a total state of bliss.

Nanami studies you, enjoying the show until he notices you staring at the bulge in his briefs, tongue lolling, practically begging for him. He smirks at you. “You want all your holes stuffed, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, eyes weepy, peering up at him. How could he resist such a cock hungry slut like you? Especially when you look at him like this?

“I’m going to give you my cock then. Think you can take it?” he asks, shoving his underwear off, cock flopping against his abdomen.

“Oh yeah, she can fucking take it,” Ino grunts, hands gripped to your hips, still fucking you with fervor. “Right babe?” He delivers a fresh slap to your ass, which echoes off the walls of the office.

“Yeah, I can take it,” you mumble, gulping down the spit collecting on your tongue.

Nanami hums, satisfied with your answer, inching his dick closer to your mouth. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

You do, swallowing him until he bottoms out to the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex. He stays still, staring at you, relishing this lewd sight. “Ino, your girlfriend looks so pretty with my cock in her mouth. Don’t you agree?”

“Fuck, yeah. So fucking hot how she just takes it. She’s a good girl, always has been,” he says from behind you, spreading your cheeks open to watch himself disappear into your pussy with each thrust.

“You’re a lucky man,” Nanami mutters, tipping your chin up, gazing into your eyes. “And you’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? Getting fucked by your boyfriend and his senpai.” Nanami begins to move, pumping himself in and out of your hungry mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick.

Ino shrugs his beanie off, running his fingers through his hair, damp with perspiration. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking us so fucking good.”

“Like a proper slut,” Nanami adds, tracing the outline of your lips, glossy with spit, stretched around his shaft. “Do you suck his cock as good as you suck mine?”

You nod, swallowing your gag reflex as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat with each solid thrust of his hips. Your second orgasm approaches quickly, your pussy clenching Ino’s cock, though you can’t say anything while gobbling up Nanami’s cock, so you let it be, continuing to be spit-roasted over the desk, thirsty for their cum.

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” Ino says, slowing his pace. “I’ve never…I’ve never come inside her before.”

Nanami, still relishing his blow job, asks, “Why not?”

“Too scared to get her pregnant,” he admits. It’s true; Ino always pulls out, even when you beg him to finish inside you. You appreciate that about him, but in this moment, you want nothing more than his cream pie filling you up.

“Is she on birth control?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Once again, as if psychic, Nanami responds, “Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting your load just this once. Right, sweetheart?”

Your words are muffled. Nanami pulls out, cock wet with your spit, stroking it in his fist. “What was that, princess?”

“I said yes! Give it to me, Ino!” you whine, shaking around him.

“Fuck, are you sure, baby? You sure you want it?”

“Give it to me. Want you to breed me,” you blurt out.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Nanami coos, slapping the head of his cock on your tongue. “How about here? You want it here too?”

You glance at Ino, who’s watching. He nods, licking his lips. “Yes. Want your cum inside me, senpai,” you reply.

He smirks, pushing himself back inside you, his length sliding on every inch of your tongue. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for both men to come, Ino shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full, Nanami spurting ribbons into your mouth, guzzling down each drop. They pull out slowly, cocks sensitive now from the stimulation. You roll over onto your back, catching your breath, looking up at them with a satisfied smile on your face.

Nanami cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “Such a messy girl. I think she needs a few more lessons. What do you think, Ino?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, staring at the lewd sight before him, your pussy leaking with his cum, your mouth drooling with Nanami’s. “Yeah. Definitely needs more, senpai.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #ino x reader x nanami #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino x reader x nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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reiderwriter · 2 months

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hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”

“Turn around.”

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”

xxxxx

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.

A girl could dream.

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?”

“I don't hit women.”

“And I do? Emily, wha-”

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”

“You make a good point, shall we begin?”

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.

“Y/N, put it down.”

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.

“I can tell.”

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.

“Yes, yes, please touch me.”

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 months

Note

I saw those pictures of Lando being all smiley while on a gurney at the hospital. I guess some fans were saying he looks high off pain killers lol. Wondering if you could write something where he falls for the nurse or doctor that was taking care of him at the hospital. I love your writing btw! You’re one of my favorite F1 accounts.

A/N: Um yes this one is for my medical girlies

"You're pretty," The boy or man giggles in front of you as the medics wheel him through the hospital halls. "Thank you, but really, you should answer my question. Name?" You repeat again trying to get his A&O down properly.

"Lando Norris, if you want that can be your name too." He giggles again and you just smile politely, used to people flirting with you or making passes. But the slightly older man beside your patient groans. "Lando, stop." He pats the boy's shoulder and mouths I'm sorry.

"Mr. Norris, do you know where you are?" "Vegasssss babbyyyy!" You bite down your lip hard trying to resist the urge to laugh. "And the date or time?" You ask. "It's November the 19th, just had my 24th birthday." He giggles and reaches out for you, but his companion slaps his hand down.

"Jesus, Lando. Sorry, they have him some pain meds for the crash." "The crash? Oh, right sorry you're one of the Formula 1 drivers." You didn't pay much mind to the news, only the increased traffic and the fuss everyone was making about this sport.

"Yeah, he drives for Mclaren. I swear he normally isn't like this. He's goofy sure, but it's the pain meds." You nod, understanding that the lack of sleep along with the crash and the meds has messed him up in some way. "It's okay, he's just here mainly for observation and to make sure his injuries aren't worse." You smile and the guy relaxes as Lando giggles.

"Lando, smile." Lando looks up, hair wild, eyes sunken and smiles this smile that has you staring for a second and look away blushing. Shaking your head you roll him into a private room, as his companion, named Jon asked you. He said some fans get a little, but you waved him off saying you've dealt with some famous people before, it is Vegas.

Smiling you were left in charge of Lando and making sure he didn't fall asleep. Jon was walking in and out, making phone calls and updating the team in his condition. "Any pain?" Lando groans, adjusting himself as the pain meds wore off, a blanket covering his naked chest.

His fireproof shirt, you learned the name was a casualty in making sure he didn't break any bones. "Just achy, um hey," You look up and try to control the blush as he did have pretty eyes. "Sorry about earlier." You smile softly and fix teh blanket tucking it in. "It's okay, it happens." You wave him off and mark his vital signs.

"I'm sure, you're very pretty." You stop writing and look up, his face was serious with a faint smile. "Hey good new, the Doc says we can go." Jon steps into the room and you two break eye contact smiling as you finish up your document.

"It was nice meeting you Mr. Norris, Jon." You leave the room heading to the nurses station and making your rounds on your other patients. "Oh, hey um," You turn seeing Lando as he tries to find your name. "Y/n," You fill in and he laughs, softly smiling. Wearing a much to large jacket and the rest of his race suit hanging off his waist.

"I wanted to ask you, if you'd like to go on a date?" You stop, and see your coworkers giggle and make kissy faces. "Oh, sorry I don't date patients." Lando just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. "Good thing I'm no longer a patient. This is my number. I hope you call." Lando smiles and you.

Watching him walk out of the hospital you smile seeing his scribble and put it in your pocket.

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luveline · 7 months

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Anything with Zombie apocalypse! Peter Parker, like how Peter and reader survive or how they met each other just Anything please

Shuffling, a tired groan. Dragging footsteps. A body drops down next to yours.

"Hello," he says. "Can't you sit somewhere normal?"

"Hi, Pete." You point down at the group of your survivors. "She's the one who stole my camera. I know it."

"What's your evidence?"

Peter brings a knee up to tuck the bottom of his pants into his socks. It helps stay warm in the cold, as does tucking your shirts in, even if it makes for ugly outfits. You pluck a leaf from his unruly hair. "She was– you know how when someone asks you about something and you know you didn't do it but you try not to sound guilty anyways? She was the only one who stayed casual when I asked."

"So you think she's guilty because she sounded not guilty?"

You shake your head in defeat. It's a stupid theory, but it's true. She one hundred percent stole your camera because she's a klepto. "It didn't even have any battery left. She just stole it 'cos she knows it's special to me."

"Maybe you lost it." He unzips his coat and digs through the front pocket. "Left it behind."

"I wouldn't have," you sigh. "Trust me. It's the one thing I wouldn't forget."

Peter pulls a lump from his pocket and offers it to you. "Wouldn't be this, would it?"

Your camera is small and silver in his hands. It looks foreign. The world grows greener by the day as plant life encroaches the streets and skyscrapers shatter in the bad weather. Technology is everywhere but useless, discarded, cars burned to shells and cell phones dropped useless in gutters and eaves. Your camera doesn't work anymore, powered by eight double AA batteries that are impossible to find out here.

You take it eagerly, a laugh sneaking out and echoing loud enough to make the others camping down look up at you where you're sitting. "Be careful!" Macy calls.

"Where did you–?" you ask, shocked.

"It's not classy, but I went through her stuff. After you went to sleep last night I asked around and she was being too calm."

"I knew it," you say, hugging the camera to your chest. There are photos on here you don't want to lose. One day, when you find batteries, or even luckier a computer that works, you'll get to see them again. "Peter, you don't know what this means to me."

"It means everything, right?" he asks with a shrug.

You put it down gently and offer your arms to him. He moves in quickly, almost laughably quickly, but his hug is light and breezy. "I didn't do it for you, I'm all about justice," he says.

"Yeah?"

"For sure. The people need a vigilante, right? Now more than ever."

You kiss his cheek. "You're my hero, Parker."

"Hey, kids!" someone calls, "Get down here!"

"I'm twenty one!" Peter shouts back.

"Come on! We need to go before it gets dark."

When it's dark, bad things happen. The mutes come out to play. Peter gives your shoulder a last rub before he stands, and together you climb down the crumbling metal steps down to the streets again. "What happens when she notices the camera's gone?" you murmur to him.

"She didn't have it," Peter says, hand ghosting the small of your back, "so she can't lose it. Right?"

You offer him a private smile. "Right."

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hyunverse · 8 months

Text

lucky number five ☆ hwang hyunjin.

pairing: hyunjin x fem! reader. tags: fluff, drabble. words: 3k words. warnings: reader is referred to with she/her, called as wife. about: the five most memorable memories you share with hyunjin. note: i haven't written in a while, so my writing's definitely a little rusty. i hope you'll like it! please reblog, and feedback is very much appreciated <3 disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Five is Hyunjin's lucky number.

Hyunjin first met you when he was five. He had pointed out that you were wearing the same shirt as he was — and you've been attached to the hips ever since.

His first tooth fell out on the fifth day of Summer. He could recall holding the baby tooth on a tissue in one hand, looking up at his mother with puppy eyes. His mother patted him on the head and told him he had grown up. The tooth fairy gave him a single gold coin chocolate, too. Tucked it under his pillow where he placed his baby tooth. He remembers having a lisp until the tooth grew back — remembers how jealous you were that he had "grown up."

The first feeling of victory Hyunjin had ever experienced was when he won fifth place in a colouring contest. Truth be told, he could've easily won first place — but he wanted you to win over him just to see you smile, so he coloured messily. Though the trophy for first place looked glorious, he thought that the smile plastered on your face as you held a medal beat the shine on the trophy.

It was the fifth of May when you two started dating. Hyunjin remembers everything about the fated day, bit by bit. He could play each scene, each dialogue in his head like an overplayed radio song. He was merely sixteen, studying in an all boys school with little to no knowledge about dating. Boys his age didn't care about dating. They only cared about soccer and video games. While he cared about all of that too, a lot of the space in his heart was overtaken by you. Figuring out how to ask you out was tough, he had spent a lot of time pondering. He even gathered up the courage to seek advice from his friends, yet to no avail. They were barely any help. In the end, he observed television dramas and prayed for the best.

Under a cherry blossom tree, you sat on a bench. Your eyes were fixated on the sky as your legs dangled over the wooden bench. The clouds on the sky were huge, luminous — enveloping the sky the way lovers do.

"Jinnie!" Hyunjin heard you cheer as he approached you. The nonchalant look on his face immediately turned into a bright smile, his footsteps becoming more hurried.

Standing in front of you, Hyunjin was the perfect depiction of nervous. Both his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans, front teeth nibbling onto the inside of his cheeks and the little rocks underneath his foot tumbled as he kicks on them.

Hyunjin gulped, "Hi."

You tilted your head with concern, "are you okay, Jinnie?"

The concern laced in your tone reminded him of all the reasons why he liked you so much. You cared like no other — loved as though nothing could hurt you in this world.

"I am," he replied, rubbing on the back of his neck, "I just —"

"You don't have to rush it," you tapped on the seat beside you, "sit with me. You can take your time to tell me whatever that's on your mind."

So, Hyunjin sat. His legs reached the ground unlike yours, and his eyes fixated on the stain on his sneakers. He was painfully aware of the rapid beating of his heart. The urge to tell you his feelings were bottling up quickly.

Then, it spilled.

"I like you a lot," the words were muttered before Hyunjin could stop them.

"Hm?"

"I like you," he repeated. This time, he sounded more sure, looked more sure. The raven was looking at you, blinking sanguinely.

It took a while for you to process the words, for your jaw to relax and finally respond.

The first response came in a way where you slowly turned your head towards him, blinking profusely.

You stuttered, "like me? Like like, or just friends like?"

He sighed, "like like. I like like you."

"Oh."

There it goes, the rejection. Hyunjin had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless. You were the only person Hyunjin had ever liked, his best friend since kindergarten. His feelings for you ran deep. He was merely sixteen, yes, but he was well aware of how strongly he felt for you.

You didn't expect it, but he tapped on your shoulder comfortingly, as if to say, "I know you don't like me, it's okay."

You were right.

"I know you don't like me, it's okay," he comforted, "I just wanted you to know."

"No, I do like you," you confessed.

"What?"

"Yeah," you replied, breathlessly, "was just shocked, that's all."

"Oh."

Silence blanketed the two of you as the conversation exchanged slowly seeped into your brains. Hyunjin looked like he was simply admiring the view in front of him but really, his brain was going haywire.

"No, I do like you," the words repeated in his brain over, and over. They filled his brain with dopamine, the kind of rush that even his favourite football team winning could not replicate.

The five words which will be engrained in Hyunjin's mind forever.

"I like you a lot."

The five words which will be engrained in yours.

"So..." you broke the silence, "what now?"

Hyunjin's pointer circled against the wood of the bench, itching to hold your hand, "we... you know. Date."

"Yeah. Okay."

For best friends who have known each other for years, it was abnormally quiet for the two of you.

But it was okay. Hyunjin was content with the small smile lingering on your pretty face, and your hand in his — finally in his.

𝐭𝐰𝐨.

The sound of a pan sizzling and a kettle crackling seeped into the guest bedroom, though the sound of Hyunjin and his mother's voice caught your attention the most.

You were spending the weekend at the Hwangs'. Your parents were on a company trip that weekend and didn't trust you alone so naturally, they dropped you off there. You were about to take your morning shower, a towel slung over your shoulder when their voices stopped you in your tracks.

"You really like her, Hyunjin?" his mother asked, her voice the epitome of motherly.

She truly is the stereotypical loving mother — soft, and nurturing. Lunchbox ready on the table every morning, not a single football match of Hyunjin's missed. Treated you like the daughter she never had, braided your hair by the porch as Hyunjin ran around with his beloved dog.

"Um," Hyunjin muttered, silverware clinking against plate as he cut through a sausage.

You clasped your ear against the door, eager to hear more.

"You don't have to be shy with me, Hyunjin."

"I do like her," you heard him say, "a lot."

Crimson crept up your face, and you could picture his face doing the same. You could imagine the tips of his ears going red, and his mother looking at him with a grin.

"You want to marry her?" she asked jokingly.

"I do," he answered. Confidently. Surely. Absolutely no hesitation. As though it was the one sole thing he was sure of in his life.

"Oh, my Hyunjin," his mother cooed, "you're all grown up now!"

You didn't know what happened next, how their conversation continued because you were too busy stifling yourself from giggling giddily. Your back was pressed up against the door, replaying the eavesdropped dialogues in your head over and over. Overcame by excitement, you failed to notice the footsteps approaching the door.

Before you knew it, your head came in contact with the wall as the door swung open. Hyunjin stood in front of you, confused as you rubbed your forehead.

"So aggressive, and for what?" you grunted, looking up at him with a pout.

"Who told you to stand by the door like an idiot?" Hyunjin huffed. Nevertheless, he reached towards your forehead, checking for any bruises.

"You'll be okay. Next time, don't stand by the door like an idi—" he paused, "wait. Did you hear anything?"

You batted your eyelashes innocently, playing dumb.

"Hear what?"

Hyunjin sighed out of relief, ruffling your hair, "nothing you need to worry your pretty self about. Just go shower. I saved you some pancakes."

"Aw," you pecked his lips, "you're so sweet, and so caring. You must want to marry me."

He smiled, but the face soon contorted into one of annoyance.

"So you heard!"

"Heard what? The fact that you're obsessed with me and want to marry me so bad?"

"You're so annoying, y/n."

"You still want to marry me though."

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "shut up, or I'll take it back."

He wouldn't.

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

Exhaustion lugged on Hyunjin as he exited the entertainment building. He's been a trainee for a couple of months now, and the burn-out was no joke. A day with you was exactly what he needed. A couple of days spent with his home, his solace — and he refused to come empty-handed.

Thus, he roamed around the park, in search of wildflowers. Anything he could get his hands on, just as long as he could form a bouquet from them. Hyunjin ducked and moved around, pulling out any flower he deemed beautiful enough. A black hair tie tied together the ensemble of florals. He wished he had managed to get his hands on some ribbons but alas, he couldn't. For now, the black hair tie on his wrist would suffice.

You arrived right when you promised you would. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, Hyunjin swore that you came right out of a daydream. He watched you wander around in the park for a while, admiring from afar. Even with a confused expression plastered across your face, he still found you gorgeous. A part of him wished that he was simply your secret admirer, so that he could keep watching you from afar for hours. Not being able to be around you would suck though, so perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Y/n!” Hyunjin finally called you out, waving his hand to catch your attention, “here!”

You whipped your head towards his direction, lips twitching into the cutest smile once you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend.

An arrangement of colourful flowers was handed to you once you were in front of him. You vividly remember how beautiful it was — petals of yellow, pink, and white which coincidentally matched your dress. Hyunjin on the other hand remember how you looked, the pupils of your eyes practically shining at the ensemble.

“For me?” you asked, looking at him with big, bright, eyes.

Hyunjin nodded, “for you, of course. Flowers for a flower.”

“Oh,” was all that you could utter, overwhelmed by appreciation. You gently pet the petals, “they’re so pretty.”

“Really?” Hyunjin queried, “I don’t have any money. I wish I could buy you pretty roses and tulips, but I really cannot afford them right now. This is the best that I could do, and I’m sorry my love.”

“Don’t you dare say sorry, Hwang Hyunjin. The fact that you spent time to find these flowers means a lot to me, and makes them even more special. I love them, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He nodded, smiling sheepishly. All the worries he previously harboured immediately disappeared at your words.

“Okay, love. Let’s go then, find more flowers and I’ll make a wreath out of them for you.”

Years later, and the flowers had long wilted away — pressed and put in a frame for display, resting on a table with vases of flowers accompanying it.

Hyunjin never stopped gifting you flowers.

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

A yellow bus drove away, leaving two figures at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere.

The outskirts of Seoul — only ever acknowledged as a place vehicles pass by. No stores, no houses in sight, just a lonesome bus stop surrounded by greens.

Hyunjin would’ve never stepped foot in this place if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for you climbing into his window and hysterically crying, he wouldn’t have purchased tickets to the middle of nowhere. He would probably be in bed and wake up at noon.

“I want to run away,” you told him, hours before.

“Okay,” he replied, “I’ll go with you.”

Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t support your attempts at rebelling against your parents. Honestly, the words, “don’t be dumb and just say sorry,” sat at the top of his tongue, but they dissolved at the sight of your mascara running down your cheeks. He knew that even if he was to disagree, you would’ve packed your bags and left anyway. He would rather follow to keep you safe.

Plus, the boy knew that the rebellion would only last a couple of hours.

“Let’s sail off without a map. Just walk and see what we’ll discover.”

“Okay.”

God knows how many of those he already said to you that day.

You walked, hand in hand, him siding with the highway. You looked far too relaxed for someone who was running away. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was terrified. If anything were to happen to the two of you there, nobody would be there to help. His free hand dug into his pocket, tightly clutching onto a butterfly knife.

Minutes soon turned into an hour. Two people walking soon turned into one — Hyunjin ended up carrying you on his back after seeing that you’ve blistered your feet. He nagged about your choice of footwear, but amidst the nags, he still opted to carry you anyway. Your hands rested around his neck, chin on his head as he walked aimlessly, just waiting for you to finally cave in and ask to go home.

“Hyunjin, look!”

“Hm?”

The boy turned around, gasping at the sight which greeted his eyes. A field of flowers stretched as far as his eyes could see, green plains decorated with splotches of colourful flowers.

Before he could say anything, you were already running towards the field, screaming in glee. He followed in pursuit, taking in the breeze and letting blades of grass sway against his legs.

“Hurry!”

Hurry, Hyunjin did, running towards you and lifting you off the ground. Hyunjin took advantage of the seemingly infinite space to twirl you around, and run around until the two of you turned breathless, lying on the grass to look at the sky.

“I love this place,” you mumbled between heavy breaths, “feels like something you only see in your dreams.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow.

Quietly, he admired you. The tranquil expression your face held matched that of the sky. He couldn’t stop the hand reaching towards your face, calloused thumb caressing your face with the same softness of a feather. Each stroke of his thumb whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Thank you,” your words reeled Hyunjin out of his daze, “for coming here with me.”

His eyes on you softened.

“You don’t have to thank me. Just be around forever,” sat at the top of Hyunjin’s tongue and dissolved.

Instead, he pressed a kiss onto your lips.

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

Hyunjin asked you to marry him five years after you started dating.

It was the peak of his career. He was everywhere around the world, collecting awards and breaking records. The little boy who loved football slowly turned into a superstar. He had to bid goodbye to his quiet life, making space for all the glory the world had to offer to him. His name sat at the tip of everyone’s tongues, talk of the town — Achilles reincarnate.

That was when he decided that he would have to marry you. For amidst all that glory, you were the only stagnant thing in his life. You continued to annoy and nag him as you always do. You continued to be the first person he thinks of when he wakes, and the last person he thinks of as he shuts his eyes. You’re always the person he has in mind as he looks for souvenirs, and when he watches old couples sitting on benches in different cities.

You, you, you.

Always you.

Boxes scatter around the living room, some opened and some not. It’s been a few hours since the moving truck unloaded all of the boxes. Honestly, you could’ve gotten so many things done if it weren’t for the two of you constantly procrastinating.

“Just a five-minute break, babe,” Hyunjin whines, landing on a (still wrapped in plastic) sofa.

You roll your eyes, “you’ve taken breaks like three times just this hour, Jinnie.”

He whines again, making grabby hands, “need my wife here right now or I’ll die.”

The sigh which leaves your lips cannot fool him, because the slight grin on your lips gives away that you like his clinginess. You seat yourself in his arms, burying yourself in his neck. The familiar scent of fresh laundry and cologne fills your nostrils, washing away the exhaustion from the day.

“Me, my wife, and a new house,” you hear Hyunjin mumble, “feels like a dream.”

You voice your agreement by humming. It’s when you stare at the boxes surrounding you that the reality finally sinks in. You’re married to the boy you met in kindergarten. His toothbrush will be in a cup next to yours, his mug will be in the dishwasher with yours, and your dirty laundry will be in the same machine. You’ll wake up next to him every day for what you hope will be your entire life.

You smile at the thought, sinking yourself into Hyunjin even more. He’s holding you with one hand, the other rummaging through a box when he takes out a Polaroid, showing you it with glee.

A Polaroid of you and him under a cherry blossom tree, five years ago.

“Isn’t this from the first day we started dating?” Hyunjin asks, blinking his eyes at you.

You tilt your head to observe the polaroid, “oh… Yes, it is, babe!”

He’s laughing, particularly at how red his face looks in the picture.

“Oh my god, we have to recreate this picture soon, love.”

taglist: @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @bakugossanity , @hwajin , @sleepyleeji , @skizzel-reblogs , @bbujiikseu , @byjeekies , @jdopes-recorder , @sherryblossom , @strayingawayy , @cb97whoree , @alyszaen , @aaliyahxsx , @jeonginsyoungestsibling , @hyunluvxo , @bokk-minnie , @ghostyycat7 , @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @jeonginwrld @kflixnet

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frankieburieshisdead · 5 months

Text

☠︎︎Hobie Brown x Ballerina male reader pt.2☠︎︎

! NSFW !

The first night you brought Hobie home, your first reaction was to tense up when he asked if he could follow you to your dorm.

You had done this song and dance before. "Going up to your room" usually meant awkwardly having to pry a guys hands from around your waist as he cussed and spat about how ungrateful you were. You couldn't stand the idea of seeing Hobie like that. Didn't want to give him the chance to be that ugly.

You should have known you had no reason to worry. As soon as the two of you were alone, he brought out a handkerchief stuffed with bread rolls that he had stolen from the restaurant and a pocket of marshmallows he had nicked from a corner store on the way here.

The two of you spent the night making waxy smores over a scented candle that your RA would kill you if she found. Hobie slept on the floor even though you insisted you were fine with him on the bed. "I don't know if I can sleep next to that many stuffed animals watching me," he joked, and you blushed even though you knew it was a tawdry excuse.

It had been almost a year since that night, and you found yourself wanting more, staying up at night wondering what Hobie's big hands would feel like just an inch lower than he would let them wander when you two were making out.

You decided to bring it up one day when he was helping you with your warm-ups before class. You hated practicing in the boys' dorm - if there weren't prying eyes, there were cruel words spat in hushed whispers - so Hobie would let you practice in his apartment.

You never thought to ask how he could afford a space so big, particularly as a student in Hester, but he had mentioned a modeling career before he started studying, so you chopped it up to residuals. Either way, it was a beautiful space lined with windows that gave a view of the whole city.

"Hobie? Is there any chance you would help me with this stretch?" You had your leg pulled up in an altitude stretch, but you couldn't quite bring it above your shoulder. He sauntered out of his room without a shirt and his jeans low on his hips. You felt yourself warming up.

"Sure. Where do you need me?" He asked as he came up behind you, resting his hands across the width of your waist.

"If you could just press my leg forward until the palm of my foot touches the crown of my head."

He began to push, situating himself so that his crotch lined up with the dip of your legs. The heat spread to your face, and there was an even hotter feeling trailing behind each touch Hobie left.

"Like that?" He huffed into the shell of your ear. Something rigid was pressing up against your thigh, insistent and hot. It made you preen, tucking your shoulder against your cheek. You felt the rough pads of his fingers slide even further up, dipping past the hem of your leotard and splaying over your pelvis. You could feel yourself hardening, a mortifying experience that you prayed Hobie hadn't noticed.

But of course he did. Of course he slipped his palm between your legs, teasing just above your cock, dipping further to the meat of your thigh.

"Do you wanna..."

"Yes." It was out of your mouth before he could finish. He spun you around, keeping his grip on your thigh to hoist your legs around his waist. You forgot what it was like to want something like this. To have this hasty, frantic energy drawing you closer to this other person who you barely know. Except this time, you do know them. This is Hobie, the person who you would hopefully spend the rest of your life knowing. Your Hobie. Hobart Brown who was gently laying you down on his mattress, kissing up your torso, smoothing his cheek against the dip in your navel, pulling little 'ah' 'ah' 'ah's from you.

"Still good?" your boyfriend peeks his head up from between your thighs, checking in.

"Still good. You?" You have to pant it out.

He just smiles at you, a wicked, pretty thing. A loving thing.

END

part 1 here

#hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x male reader #x reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #fanfic #part 2/2 #hobie spiderverse #into the spider verse

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ectoentity · 3 months

Text

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings 0.?

Hey here's a scene that happened long before Danny showed up have fun

Here is the subscription post

Need to know concept:

When you're in a world where wings are associated with ghosts, you're gonna assume that coming back from the dead with wings means you have some unfinished business. Harley Quinn POV.

Ever since Joker died, Harley expected his killer would come after her. She hadn't been with him for a couple years, but that hardly made up for the shit she'd done while they were together. Really the only surprise was that they hadn’t killed her first as a warning to him.

So when she walked into her apartment kitchen to see a guy with huge wings wearing a red helmet, Harley wasn’t terribly surprised. Not about the break-in or the gun pointed at her, at least.

"How'd'ya manage to fit those things in here?" she asked. The guy didn't answer. The wings flexed like he wanted to open them, but there wasn't any room.

"Harley," the Red Hood said, sounding very intimidating with some kind of voice modulation. "You know why I’m here."

"I can make a guess, big guy," Harley said sadly. "Nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"You let it happen. You helped him. Why should you escape justice?"

"I did my time for most of it. And I spent the last couple a years trying to put him in the ground. That doesn't fit into your equation somehow?" She tried edging slowly to a shelf where she had a gun of her own. Red Hood noticed. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

"Did any of that bring back the innocent people you killed? The children you tortured?"

"Woah, woah, woah, time out. I never did anything like that to kids." Harley held her hands up in a T shape above Red Hood's fist. "I did some awful stuff I ain't proud of, but I never tortured kids."

"You didn't seem to care that he did."

Harley sighed and lowered her hands onto Red Hood's arm and tried to look into the eyes of his weird helmet. "What do you expect to happen here? You want me to beg until you feel satisfied? Sorry, buddy. Not really my style! I don't like a lotta what I did back then, but I can't fix it. I'm trying better now. If that's not good enough for ya, that's too bad."

The Red Hood didn't move for a moment. It was kind of creepy, if Harley was honest. He didn't say anything, he didn't twitch. Was the guy even breathing? It was always hard to talk to someone in a full face mask. There was no way to tell whether they were even listening. Contrary to popular belief, Harley didn't talk just to hear her own voice! Not often, at least.

The hand let go of her shirt. Harley pulled back to regain her balance, but she didn't relax just yet. There was still a big murderous birdman with a gun in her apartment. Even if he wasn't about to shoot her just now, he was still dangerous.

"Fucking hell," the guy said. He seemed to stagger backwards until one of his wings clipped the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Then he leaned against the pillar heavily.

"Shit. You're right. This is pointless. Why am I here?"

Harley took her chance to grab her gun just in case, but Red Hood didn't seem to notice. She stared at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "Do you mean here in my apartment, or are you really having an existential crisis right now?"

"I'm not having a- Fuck. I guess I am." He held his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Harls."

Well, that was an unusual nickname. It wasn't something she heard much outside of kids from the Bowery or Narrows. Most other kids in Gotham got swept up by their parents before they could talk to her.

"You lose somebody?" she asked softly, gun tucked in her pocket. "Sibling? A kid?"

Red Hood choked out a bitter laugh. "Myself." When Harley's eyebrows did a wild semaphore of emotion, the asshole deigned to explain. "He killed me. I... I came back. Figured, y'know, I must've been brought back for a reason, right?" He sunk down further against the pillar, the white tips of his mostly-black wings spreading across the floor like the fabric of a cape.

Damn, Harley thought. That made a fucked up amount of sense. "I can't really blame you for thinking that," she admitted. "The feathers a new fashion choice then?"

"You could say that. Shit." Red Hood reached up to the bottom of his helmet and depressed some trigger there. Harley heard a hiss of pressurization before it popped off the guy's head. The first thing she saw was black hair. That wasn't surprising. The surprising thing was when he leaned his head back against the pillar, revealing a young face and a shock of white hair in his bangs. Then he opened his eyes, and they were as blue as the sky.

"Hey kid? What did you say your name was?"

He took a devastatingly long time to respond.

"They called me Robin, once."

#dpxdc #jason todd #harleen quinzel #i originally wanted this to go further #but the last line was just too good #ectoplasm gives you wings #egyw

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the-kr8tor · 7 months

Note

hi, darling! I come to make my contribution for the fluffy fridays, so here's my proposal: Hobie has a crush with a girl who works in a clothing store and even though he is extremely cool, confident and has very good chemistry, he still doesn't know how to ask her out. There is a colleague of Reader who makes Hobie a little jealous when he hears invite her to the movies, however, it is Reader who decides to ask Hobie out at the end of her turn.

—🫀

Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie slides over to your station, hands casually in his pockets, looking like one of the models on the store's posters, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he crawled out of one of them. You beam up at him, day brightened by his mere presence. The rack full of punk worthy clothes, shakes slightly when Hobie leans over it, draping his arms laying flat over the metal, head resting over the back of his hands.

"Hello there, loyal customer, what can I do for you?" You use your 'retail voice' but your full grin makes your greeting genuine.

You both know he's not just a customer to you, ever since he accompanied a friend of his to look for an article of clothing, he's been coming over almost everyday with a different excuse each time.

"Need to find a gift for a mate of mine" or "lookin' for a specific pair of socks" or even a "just browsin'" and every time he would leave empty handed, well except for information about you. First time you both exchanged names, second it was your interests until you two are having casual banter like you've known each other for years. Your co-workers have pointed it out to you multiple times, telling you the chemistry between you and Hobie was overflowing with romantic tension.

One of these days the dam will break, the question is who will break it first?

"Just lookin'" Hobie smirks, knowing the tension between you is so thick you need a chainsaw to cut it.

"You can come up with something better than that" you mirror his teasing smile, hands absent-mindedly folding t-shirts.

"Right, let me start again" He stands up straight, dramatically clearing his throat. "Just lookin' for you. Better?"

You chuckle, "much" eyes sparkling, Hobie goes back to his previous position over the clothing rack, twin smiles over your lips, he watches you fold shirts like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

A co-worker and friend of yours has had enough of your longing stares and flirty comments. He takes matters into his own hands with the intention to finally get you two together, or at least get one of you to ask the other out on a date.

He saunters over, a blue eyed blondie with curls worthy of a modeling contract. He's handsome enough to make anyone jealous.

"Hi Jason, you need something?"

Hobie's eyes never leave your form, Jason puts on his best charm for his plan to work.

"Yeah, you" He gives you his best smile that could rival any magazine model out there. Hobie only spares him a glance.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Manager need me?"

"Nope, I was gonna ask if you're free on Saturday. So are you free?" Your eyes widen, especially your relationship with him is completely platonic, not to mention he's in a serious relationship with his long time boyfriend. You have no idea what's gotten to him.

Hobie sucks in a breath, tucking his hands inside his pockets, "have to go, love." You move your neck lighting quick. "See you" He walks away, giving you a small smile on his way out.

"Hobie–" trying to reach him but it's too late, he's already outside of the store. You look at your friend questionably, pinching his arm. "What the hell was that?" You whisper yell.

"What?" Jason shrugs innocently, "you needed a push"

"Now he thinks I'm into you! I don't even know if he feels the same way"

"Babes, trust me he fancies you. Maybe he also needs the push" he points at the door using his chin. "Go get your man, I'll cover you"

"I hate you so much right now, I had a plan!" You're already speed walking towards the exit.

"No you don't! And you owe me big time!"

The bell rings as you leave the store, eyes adjusting to the light, you squint around, looking for his familiar form. You finally spot him on the other side of the street, but the pedestrian stop light has turned red, cars whizz past as Hobie walks further away.

"Fuck!" You bounce on the balls of your feet, the seconds tick past but not fast enough. You can barely see Hobie from where you're standing, biting your lip, you spot an opening.

You run as fast as you can, feet landing on the other side of the sidewalk, a car almost clipping you. Ignoring their angry honking, you continue to go after Hobie.

Exhaling, you finally reach him, skidding to a stop, almost bumping into him. Hobie turns around at the sudden presence. Blinking in surprise.

"Hobie! I almost died!"

"You alright?" Hobie takes you by the shoulders, his hold tender and caring. You beam up at him through the fog of adrenaline.

"Better than alright" you say breathlessly, fingers twitching to hold him too.

"What are you doin' here?" He peeks behind you, anticipating for your co-worker to come running after you. Hobie finds no one, more questions appear in his mind.

"Looking for you" grinning, you pull him towards you by his belt loop. He smiles at your bluntness. "Go out with me?" You blink in a sudden rush of shyness. "Only if you want to"

"Will blondie be there?" He doesn't miss the opportunity to tease you.

"Do you want him to come with?" You quip back with a laugh. Hobie snorts at your joke.

"He doesn't have to, bet he'll feel like a third wheel." He slides his hand up, cupping the back of your neck softly.

"You're right about that. Offer still stands for you though"

"As long as it's far from the shop."

"I've already got a place in mind" you smile wider.

"You beat me to it, y'know I was 'bout to ask you first" his thumb draws circles over your skin that feels like hearts to you.

"Yes or no, Hobie" you feign annoyance.

He rolls his eyes, grinning through it all. "Yes"

You kiss his cheek, nose bumping on his jaw. "Can't wait"

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takes1 · 7 days

Note

I'm gonna start by saying that your fics are amazing! I love the way you write and I always get immersed in them. I would like to request an Osamu x reader fic, i was thinking about a childhood friends pining for a decade!au happening while working in his Onigiri shop, you might add Suna if you want,perhaps as a love triangle and misunderstandings as in Osamu thinking that the reader like Suna. As for the smut, I'll leave that to you 👀

thank you so much for supporting!! i love getting these requests and hearing from you! it really helps. not gonna lie, this one challenged me, but i think it turned out well! hope i got this right :) thanks again for the request love

warnings. lite!nsfw. minors DNI info. hq lite!nsfw / safe consent practices / mutual pining / some angst, some hurt, but pay-off / husband material!osamu / timeskip!osamu / childhood friends to lovers / miscommunication / r.i.p suna's unrequited feelings / misunderstandings / osamu gives great hugs / osamu is a wine snob / osamu is a little shy / 2.5k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open so give me some ideas pls!

Your heart gave an all-too familiar squeeze at the sight of an old friend.

There he was, clad in a black cap, apron, and a well-fitting shirt. His face was one of slight concentration, his mouth in a straight line, jaw flexed. A strong arm lifted the black bag he carried high into the trash in the alley with ease.

"'Samu!" His nickname was like a sigh of reassurance on your tongue.

He turned, a stern face letting up as soon as he recognized you coming towards him. He quickly discarded his gloves in the trash and made forward to meet you. It ended in a hug in the middle of the sidewalk.

Business was so slow today, he really wasn't expecting any surprises- especially not any pleasant ones.

"(Y/n)." Was a mumble against your hair, charged relief on his breath. He was lifting you off of your feet and melting into you at the same time.

Your eyes stung a little when you tucked your face into his comforting shoulder. It'd been so long since graduation, but everything was coming back to you, all at once, against your will.

Maybe it was because you could still taste the onigiri you just finished, but those lunches he used to prepare for you kept cropping up. You weren't sure why it kept making you want to cry, though.

"I missed you!" You whispered, swallowing a sob.

He gave you a crushing squeeze in return. He certainly hadn't stopped working out since your high school days. There was a hesitation in letting each other go.

"God," His quick blinking made you feel better for getting emotional, "What are you doin' all the way out here?"

You sniffled and turned to Suna, briefly forgotten at the table, "I told you those fillings tasted familiar!"

There was an unmistakable shock in Osamu's eyes when you turned back to him, "We were just grabbing lunch. I had no idea 'Onigiri Miya' would actually mean you!"

He missed the natural beat to respond- instead of letting your declaration die, you kept up the attempt to rekindle things.

"Did you get a new number?" You asked, quieter, trying to catch his eye, so you leaned your head further between him and Suna.

He looked down at you with a much softer expression, "Hm?"

"I- texted you a couple months ago, I just assumed you got a- new number," You trailed.

It felt a bit forced and loser-esque to ask the reason why he hadn't texted you back. Two months was a while to get 'caught up' in something, after all.

If he didn't want to talk to you, he technically didn't owe you an explanation.

He blinked. It didn't cross his mind that you would've texted him-- his fingers fumbled for his phone in his pocket to show you a new iPhone.

"Yeah," He sighed, "Shit, I didn't think to tell anyone but 'Sumu..."

This time, he felt like the loser. He didn't have many people to text, nowadays. But he certainly didn't want you and Suna to know that.

Relief flashed across your face as you admitted in a light laugh, "Oh, thank god. I really thought you were ignoring me!"

"Let's all exchange numbers," You suggested.

You looked back to Suna and thought you saw some hostility in his eyes, "So we can all meet up sometime, when you're not working."

The process of getting each other's contacts was quiet and stilted. You thought better of making plans here and now, because there was an indescribable feeling that something was wrong.

Maybe the timing.

Osamu frowned at his phone after getting it back from Suna.

Maybe the place.

Suna gave a subtle sigh when Osamu put his number in.

Your text to Osamu that night garnered a response so quick that it made up for the months of uncertainty and pseudo-grieving. Your oldest friendship was not buried as deep in the ground as you had previously thought.

It ended in a suggestion you weren't expecting.

There was nowhere you both wanted to eat at, and no activities you could think of that would allow for the long conversations you both favored.

I could cook for us.

You knew better than to deny him the chance to cook, but it was clear to both of you that it felt a little too forward. A little too intimate for just two good friends.

That wasn't enough to keep you from agreeing immediately.

Certain that he didn't feel the same, you rationalized that you had nothing to worry about.

Dark red swirled slow, unending circles in your glass. You weren't one for red, but he brought out a vintage just for you tonight.

The perfectly plated dinner in front of you didn't last long. Osamu made it so easy to like foods you swore up and down you hated; you didn't question his choices despite your usual pickiness.

There were a number of times you had to pretend not to notice him watching you eat. He was pretty obvious, because he'd raise his spoon full of food, then let it hover mid-air, and turn his whole head to watch you chew. It was as if he was waiting for you to declare it was the worst thing you'd ever tasted.

He was still working on his -most likely cold- plate minutes after you cleaned yours off. It left you to catch up to him in glasses of wine. The bottle was nearing empty and you were still on your first.

"Do you have any roommates?" You asked, glancing around a spacious apartment.

It was so still. You'd surely die of loneliness, if you were him.

He shook his head. It made sense with his preference for solitude, but it still made you sit back and sip on your wine to keep from voicing your concern.

"It's quiet," Osamu wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate forward, "I know."

Was your discomfort that obvious?

His chuckling won out over your insistence that it wasn't that bad, and you eventually were resolved back to slouching in your chair again.

"You just need some- flowers," You motioned to the center of the table, not believing in your advice in the slightest, "Or... something like that."

"To be fair, I never sit at the table."

He poured the last of the wine into his glass. You stared down at yours. He still spoke and acted stone-cold sober. You had to wonder how much he drank, with this bleak living space.

"Not a fan of Merlot?"

This was getting a little embarrassing.

This time, you gave in, "Not feeling this one as much."

His brow raised. He had a layered expression, like he was torn between two sides of himself for a split-second.

He eased up and slid his elbows on the table, wine glass looking absurdly tiny in his hand.

You admired the gentle way he held the delicate glass, how he knew just how the weight was supposed to be distributed in the webs of his fingers.

"You drink wine much?" He had that completely immersed look on his face that was always so difficult to return.

He mistook your trouble to return his gaze as discomfort, and laughed, retracting his body from the table, "I-'m sorry--,"

"No-no it's okay-!" You put your hand on his arm and scooted your chair closer to affirm that you didn't mind his proximity -that you in fact welcomed it- and rambled, "I- don't, drink wine like that. So I- wouldn't really know what's good."

His gaze sent a shiver surging through your whole body. What an intense pair of eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows, thumb rubbing his freshly shaved cheek.

"It's an expensive hobby."

You were wracking up inappropriate questions by the second. First, the lack of love in his sad apartment, then his potential alcohol issues, now his salary.

The quiet clink of his glass on the table. A heavy, warm hand stilled yours on his arm, and he caught your troubled gaze.

"But it's just a hobby," He smiled.

The apartment filled with shared laughter. You were getting read like an open book, you couldn't help but cool your face down with the back of your hand.

"I-I promise, I'm not trying to judge," You sighed and grinned at what you noticed as his slightly tipsy giggling, "I just... care about you."

Osamu took a breath to say something, but something else flickered across across his face.

His hand was starting to slip from yours.

"So, you and Suna again?"

You laughed at what you thought was a joke. He didn't return it; instead, he let go and took another big sip from his almost empty glass.

"Oh-," You realized he was mistaken, "We're not together."

"Mm!" He swallowed and laughed, "Oh- that's good."

His focus faltered with a small cough, "I mean, not good, but-,"

"That's not something I want to go back to," You saved his embarrassing admission gracefully and looked away, only thinking about that short-lived relationship in high school.

Suna was just a distraction. A temporary filler for your unbearable emptiness. You never stopped loving Osamu, even when you had everyone else fooled. In the end, Suna just made you miss your friend more, since it sparked an unspoken drift in the process. It wasn't one of your brightest moments.

The look on his face was asking for more information. A 'So... why?' was on the tip of his tongue. You saved him the breath.

"He reached out. I was free, and I wanted to make sure we were alright after things ended like that."

Osamu nodded slowly, swirling half a sip of wine in his glass with careful consideration.

"You talk about it like you never liked him," He sighed against the rim, then shot it back in a way that made you realize why he was drinking so much.

He didn't have the courage to talk to you like this without it.

Your thumb, still resting on his forearm, rubbed thoughtfully. If he was being this candid through his actions, you didn't mind coming clean about a few things.

"I didn't," You admitted in a breathy half-laugh, "It wasn't real to me."

You shut your eyes tight and seethed, "I know that sounds so cruel--,"

"Yeah," He chuckled.

"Okay- I meant it like..." Your thumb was tapping on his raised skin, "I needed a distraction. You know I was struggling. He really was sweet. I know I should've treated him better."

It was clear that there was no hero to the story. You were all flawed, to some degree. Osamu's hand returned to yours. This time, he squeezed.

"You know I don't judge you for that."

All things considered, that break-up was still fresh. It was only briefly before your graduation date.

"Hey-," He reached up to turn your head towards him. It was a bit much and left you both warm and fidgety, "You know that I know that you're a good person."

His hand fell to your forearm.

It was fleeting, but you felt an energy between you. It was different. It filled that space in your heart you'd long since carved out for him.

Fleeting must be reiterated, because it was gone in an instant as he cleared his throat and stood, collecting the dishes in one trip with skill you could only attribute to the nature of his work.

You chugged the rest of your wine with a shudder so it wouldn't go to waste and skittered after his swift movement towards the kitchen.

If there was any place in the house that didn't feel lifeless, it was the kitchen. Spacious and clean, sure, but every tool and appliance here was cared for and used often.

It distracted you to slow down.

There was a level of respect you felt was necessary for a space so important to Osamu.

He began washing the dishes.

"Please let me do something," You begged from behind him.

All you got was a stoic head shake.

You leaned on the countertop behind him, staring at his back in that clean, black shirt. Would you ever get over him?

His words and actions from tonight turned over in your head. That hug you shared yesterday afternoon made your hands slip from the counter.

It may have been the wine that inspired your resolve to actually follow through, but your motivation did have years of pent-up desire behind it.

His body stiffened at the feeling of your arms around his waist, the side of your face pressed against his warm back. He smelled like a woody, musky cologne.

"Thank you," You muttered, mostly for his kind words, but its roots extended much farther than just recent events.

The sound of the water shutting off encouraged you to loosen your grip. The doubt started settling in as he dried his hands with a hanging towel, wordless.

His hands just barely grazed yours as you retracted, heart racing at the fact that you couldn't take that back.

He turned around to face you. Your eyes were busy avoiding his, so you were taken by surprise when he leaned down to pick you up from the waist.

It was just as easy and comfortable as the first time-- his shoulders spacious enough to bury yourself in, his hold so secure you didn't have to spare any strength holding on. He could support you all day.

A breathy groan, like he was a settling house, brushed your ear and sent tingles down your spine.

He set you down, but guided your arms to stay around his neck. You looked back and forth between his eyes, no longer unsure about his feelings.

"I missed you so much."

He was a clumsy kisser, but you didn't mind.

His hands were skilled and sure. It was more than enough to make up for his hungrier, rather than soft kisses.

One kept you steady by the back of your head, the other taking up your entire shoulder to guide you backwards against the kitchen island.

He rendered you breathless quickly- you pulled away for just a moment and he took it as a good sign to lift you up onto the countertop.

No part of you questioned this intense show of affection-- it felt like a fitting release of years-long tension and unspoken feelings.

They still remained unspoken, for the most part, but it could wait.

His hips pushed hard against your own, eliciting a soft, fluttery sound against his mouth.

He ate it up, wanting another so bad that one hand grabbed at the bend in your hip and thigh to keep you against him.

Your tummy twisted in a mixture of delightful pleasure and desire, everything below your waist all giddy and jittery as his fingers squeezed your hips with a need you never knew he was harboring.

Thighs trembling with nerves, his steady grasp pushing down helped to calm and stall you. You caught your breath with your forehead pressed against his. You unhooked your legs.

"W-hat?" You swallowed, praying to God this wasn't some mistake.

His wine-flushed face answered your question with no response.

"We shouldn't...I'm not--," He bit his cheek at his own restraint, brow tight with regret at his own actions from earlier.

You nodded, a little buzzed yourself, and laughed at his concern, "I'm okay with just kissing."

my masterlist.

requests are open!

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itsjaywalkers · 2 months

Note

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

#this took me way too long bc my best friend kept distracting me #but i had . so much fun #god i'm obsessed with them #the boxer au is jegulus but don't get it twisted #it's still rosekiller's world #they're just living in it etc etc #ANYWAYS #hope you liked this saints and that it was everything you dreamt of #MWAH #silly little drabbles #rosekiller #boxer james agenda #saints tag <3

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dabisqueen · 2 years

Text

Falling into Sin

Stepbrother Touya x Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 2.5K

⇢ plot: Life changed a bit after Touya graduated and started working. That doesn't stop you both from giving into your desires - especially not while your mom is in the next room.

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, some tiddie action and fingering, consensual sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

⇢ I'm not necessarily back from hiatus but I was too thirsty for stepbrother Touya at 5am yesterday so you guys all get to suffer with me. Thanks to @/hunajan for being my beta again. And duh – Touya he has black hair again akakdjs

Sequel to "A Step towards Sin"

Ever since Touya had graduated and gotten a job at his dad's company, life had been different.

Moving out into his own place had left you with tears in your eyes – tears of sadness because you would see him less, but also tears of joy because you had a place to see him in private. To give in to the pleasure that the both of you wanted. To make sweet love to each other, or just simply fuck and be as loud as you could without having to fear that anyone might overhear.

For your relationship was beyond forbidden.

Because Touya was your stepbrother.

You hadn’t seen him in a few days, while he was gone on a business trip. You were longing for him, his touch, the sweet taste of his lips and the warm masculine scent of his skin. It was like an addiction and you yearned to be stuffed with your stepbrother's cock.

You used to be shy, until that one fateful night on your 21st birthday during which Touya took your virginity. Since then, you couldnt get enough of each other and with how experienced Touya was when it came to sex, you were soon in no way inferior regarding experinece.

Still, after spending the last year together, your confidence was still low when it came to being with him while someone was around.

Your mom was cooking in the kitchen, the scent of Tonkatsu and rice wafting thickly through the air.

You didn't hear him enter the house over the sounds coming from the TV. Yet a movement at the door caught your attention and you lifted your gaze, meeting with his stunningly sapphire one.

He stood in the door, one shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

He was dressed in a tailored suit, the black color complementing his strikingly blue eyes and raven hair, fitting his lean yet sculpted body and broad shoulders perfectly. The black tie hung loosely around his neck, the white button-down shirt tucked neatly inside his pants.

His gaze was intense, his eyes drinking you in as you laid there on the couch, a warm blanket pulled over your perfect body. It instantly lit your body on fire seeing his hungry stare roving over you and you squeezed your thighs as a familiar tingle spread through your body.

It was always like this. Ever since you made forbidden love for the first time, your thirst for one another hadn't died. It only had grown.

"Touya!" Your face lit up with a smile spreading across it.

"That's me, Sis," he chuckled lowly.

His husky voice sent heat straight to your cunt, while you propped yourself up on your elbow. "You're back early!"

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, your eyes were involuntarily led to his crotch. Kicking off the frame, he sauntered over and stopped right in front of you, the light bulge in his pants almost eye level with you.

You licked your lips, knowing of what deliciousness hid behind the fabric. He noticed your greedy stare and simpered.

One hand moved to frame your face as he closed in and he pecked a kiss on your cheek before whispering, "Couldn't wait any longer, missed ya too much"

You inhaled his scent, a slight hint of soapy cologne but mostly him. It made goosebumps ripple across your skin, the feeling of his soft lips still too prominent on your cheek. Lips that you'd rather have pressed against your own – or latched around something further down below.

As if he could read your mind he added nonchalantly, "Can't wait to fuck your pussy."

The thought alone turned the heat in your belly into a raging blaze, a need you knew all too well arising. It set your cheeks on fire, a breathy moan falling from your mouth when his lips grazed your earlobe.

A sound from the kitchen had him straighten up as your mom walked into the room, eyes bright with joy as she saw her stepson.

"You're back already!" She smiled, "Wanna join for dinner?"

"I'd love to, mom." His gaze dropped to meet yours, a mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes, "I'm starving–"

"Wonderful," she said. "But it will still be a while before it's ready. Like, ten minutes?"

"Don't worry," he gave you a playful smirk, "I'm gonna join my little sis on the couch till then."

And with that, he undid his tie and took off his suit jacket, draping it over the closest chair.

"Scoot a bit," he crooned as you straightened your legs and made room for him behind you.

The couch dipped in when he started crawling behind you. You were really grateful for your mom's impeccable taste in furniture and Touya's dad for having lots of money. Because the couch was almost a lounger, with him having enough room behind you.

Pulling the cashmere blanket over both of you, it still radiated your warmth as his right arm slipped under the pillow your head was resting on. His left arm circled your waist, warm slender fingers slipping under your shirt, instantly trailing up the soft skin of your stomach to the plush rounds of your breasts.

“What, no bra?” You could hear from his voice that he wore a pleased grin on his face.

"They’re uncomfortable," you mewled, grinding your asscheeks against his crotch.

"Atta girl," he dragged his lips to your ear, his voice soft when you heard him whisper, "Now let’s fuck – you heard mom, we've got ten minutes."

And with that his hand moved to cup your breast, fingers curling to twist at your nipple, making it instantly perk up under his ministrations.

"Touya—" your breath got caught in your throat, "N-Not here, mom's gonna–."

"Make me stop then–" his teeth grazed your skin, his pink muscle peeking out to lick up a strip along your neck.

His erection was so hard in his pants you could feel it prodding against your back even through his clothes. His fingertips tightly twisted your nub and you groaned again, with your stepbrother chuckling behind you.

"Doll," he peppered small kisses along the curve of your neck, "Gotta stay quiet or she's really gonna hear us."

The movie long forgotten, a whimper barely broke free when he rutted his hips against your butt a few times, making you feel his need for you.

"But, I also know how loud you always get," he chuckled and his hand pulled away, leaving you sighing in disappointment.

As he leaned over you towards the low table in front of the couch, his clothed erection dug into your back, a familiar and comforting heat seeping from his body.

He grabbed the remote, slightly increasing the volume before placing it onto the coffee table again, settling himself back behind you, draping the throw over both of you again.

This time his greedy hand found the round of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before moving to unbuckle his belt. Two slim fingers skilfully flicked open the clasp closure of his suit pants before moving to undo the zipper.

You swallowed your breath when his fingers hooked underneath your waistband, pulling down your shorts. Tugging your panties to the side, he exposed your wet folds to him.

“Look at you,” he laughed lowly into your ear, his fingertips smearing through your slick, “You’re drenched, babe.”

Pushing two digits inside without warning, he curled them, making your entire body jolt in sensation. You tried to ignore the clanking of metal pots sounding from the kitchen when he slipped his fingers out, slick with you.

Lifting his hand to his mouth, he tasted your essence, savoring your tangy taste. The scent of your arousal was like an aphrodisiac in his nose and his cock started twitching painfully, aching to be freed from its restraints.

"Eyes on the movie–" he demanded breathlessly, his hand dipping back underneath the blanket.

Pulling back to free his aching cock, he held it in his palm, pressed his hot spongy tip between your thighs. Sliding it along your dripping folds, he inhaled sharply at the feel of how hot and wet you were for him.

Canting your hips, he dragged his thick cock through your juices a couple of times, lubricating himself fully. Then he started easing himself into your warmth and you couldn’t help but whimper at the immediate stretch. Even though you've taken him so many times, his thick girth always left you struggling to accommodate his size.

Your eyes fluttered shut and a lewd moan escaped your lips when Touya pressed his hips forward, his thick girth entering deeper inside your hot walls.

"Honey, did you say something?" Your mom peeked her head out of the kitchen to look at where you both were laying on the couch.

"No, mom." Touya stilled and replied a bit breathless, "'T was just the movie."

"Ok, nevermind then," she cheered and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Fuck –ah– need to be quiet," he groaned between pressed lips, as he kept pressing further inside, "How the fuck are you always this tight?"

"Cause you're fucking hung," you gasped quietly, the slow drag of his cock inside you making it difficult for you to focus, each vein stroking along your sensitive spot just right.

He wasn't even halfway in, when he moved his hips back and pushed in again, trying to work himself deeper. It was so intense, you had to concentrate not to moan out again.

Touya took notice, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. His slender fingers traced over your mound before his index finger found your throbbing clit, pressing into it.

He started to rub slow circles around your sensitive nub, pushing you immediately close to the edge, your cunt fluttering around him, trying to suck him deeper.

"Don't you dare make another sound," the rasp of his voice sent pleasurable chills up your spine, "Or else I need to punish you."

"That's —ah— the point." you panted quietly, your hips bucking into his as he fucked you slowly.

"That's my girl," he laughed giddily, his body tingling with pleasure.

Touya felt his own arousal increasing, his guts tensing as his high was closing in on him.

With a quiet broken groan he finally gave into his need and snapped his hips forward when a voice sounded from the kitchen and you both froze.

Your mom stepped into the living room and stopped right next to the couch.

"So, how's the movie?" Her gaze fixated the screen, oblivious to what was going on underneath the blanket.

"G-Good," you mutter, your cunt switching around Touya’s cock, his balls flush with your fluttering cunt.

The screen flickered with an action sequence, the main actor speeding along a highway on a speedbike, closely followed by several others.

"Seems rather exciting!" She noticed, a hand rising to tug a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes it is," Touya mused, his index finger pressing into your clit and you had to bite your lip not to moan out loud. "Very exciting indeed."

"Well then, dinners ready in five." She turned her head to wink at you before going back into the kitchen.

You let out a shaky moan, just realizing that you had held your breath.

"Doll, you heard mom, we gotta hurry up,'' Touya growled and with that his thrusts began to get harder.

His grip around your waist tightened as he held you steady for each of his ruts. You could feel your slick pooling between your thighs as he was pumping inside of you now, the coil inside your tummy tightening by the second.

The tightness in Touya's gut grew when he noticed you tensing up around him and he increased the pace, rubbing with vigor at your clit now.

It's all it took for you to fly off the edge, cumming hard around him. Your legs started to tremble, your eyes fluttering shut while your back arched and your head tilted back. His right arm rose, his hand laying flush over your mouth to muffle your treacherous panting that could expose your forbidden pleasure to an unwanted audience.

He ground his cock into you, groaning softly at the way your walls were milking him. One more thrust forward into your tight cunt and he shuddered, his balls tightening as he followed you into bliss, pumping his seed deep inside of you.

The twitching of his cock and Touya's soft panting behind you made you cum again, eyes rolling back as you as your fluttering walls clamped down hard.

He dragged his length in and out of you a few more times, helping you ride out your high. Loosening his grip on your mouth, his soft breath was hot against your hair as you both slowly came down from your shared orgasm.

“I love you, Baby,” he breathed, the words falling from his lips like it was natural.

It took a minute for you both to calm down and then he slowly pulled out, moving your panties back over your swollen red folds.

When he pulled your shorts back up he whispered into your ear "Make sure you don't spill a single drop ok?"

Then he went about tugging himself away and straightening out his pants. Sitting back up he reached over to the remote to pause the movie.

"Mom? Can we help you set the table?" His voice reeked with innocence when he winked at you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him in a mocking manner. Completely unimpressed, Touya stood up and teasingly pulled the blanket off of you, causing you to squeal as the fresh air embraced your warm, exposed skin.

"That would be wonderful!" You heard your mom call from the kitchen.

He playfully patted your butt cheeks, watching you with a pair of naughty eyes, "C'mon Sis, let's help mom."

"But Touya what if—" you nervously fiddled with the hem of your shorts as you also straightened up.

Clenching your thighs, you tried your hardest for his cum not to seep out.

"She won't notice as long as you keep it all inside," he chuckled wickedly. “And if you don't, I'm gonna have to fuck my seed inside of you again after dinner.”

Grabbing your hands he pulled you up and with him, draping his arm around your shoulder as he guided you off towards the kitchen.

You were trying your best to keep it all inside, clenching your core. But halfway through the room you felt his hot seed spilling out, seeping into your panties and starting to drip down your leg.

“Shit,” you came to a stuttering halt and he turned his head to look at you.

“Aw sis,” he tutted quietly and cocked his head, “Guess I'm gonna have to fill you up again tonight.”

And with that, he patted your buttcheeks and walked past you into the kitchen, calling for your mom while you were left to scramble off into your bedroom to clean up the mess he’d made.

#dabi smut #touya smut #stepbrother!touya #touya x you #touya x reader #mha touya #touya #todoroki touya #mha smut #bnha smut #touya todoroki

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crimson-calligraphyx · 6 months

Text

lma1986 asked:Best friends to lovers Noah returns home from tour and finally gets to spend time with the reader. Make it cute and fluffy 😍

Disclaimer: this is completely fictional. I do not own Bad Omens or anyone affiliated with them. This is a RPF; don't like? Don't read. Hope you enjoy! 😊 Word count: 2,555 Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 *if you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know!*

A/N: This takes place in Noah's POV and is based off the song "Jenny" by Studio Killers. 😇

I leaned against the passenger door of my car, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over my chest, waiting for that white door to swing open. I've been through that door a million times before, ever since I was about 5 years old, and I never grew tired of coming to this little pale-yellow house on Chestnut Street. It wasn't my home, but it may as well have been from how often I came here through my adolescent years—I could navigate the ins and outs with a blindfold, and both hands tied behind my back.

The door finally swung open, the petite frame of my best friend materializing from behind it. I chuckled, a smirk tugging at my lips as she freezes, her hand still grasping the door. From a distance, I could see the confusion written on her face when she sees me, and I know she's questioning whether I was really here right now.

I wasn't supposed to be home from our tour until tomorrow—that's what I told her, at least.

"Nono!" she shouts, a cheek-splitting smile across her face as she practically jumps down the front steps. Her golden curls bounced behind her as she ran across the lawn barefoot, the sun accentuating her highlights and shimmering in gentle waves. "When are you gonna stop calling me that?" I pushed off the side of my car with a feigned eye roll, opening my arms to welcome her in a hug. She throws herself at me, nearly knocking me over as I wrapped my arms around her and rocked from one foot to the other. "Never," she mumbles into my shirt, and my chest fills with warmth when I hear her giggle shortly after.

When we first met in kindergarten, Jenny was a little delayed in her speech and had a hard time pronouncing 'Noah'. She called me 'Nono' instead and I absolutely hated it at the time, but as we got older, I grew to cherish it. I never told her that though, and continued with the façade of despising it because I loved the way she laughed, thinking she was getting under my skin by teasing me.

That's how it's always been for the last two decades. We push each other's buttons, we argue, we laugh, we cry. That was just who we are. Nono and Jenny; best of friends, partners in crime, two peas in a pod. I'd like to say that I wouldn't want it any other way, but it simply wasn't true—I wanted her in the way that a flower needs rain to flourish.

After all, aside from Nick, she was the reason I pushed so hard to have this music career take off. She was always so supportive, and a genius at that. On the days where I was stumped, she'd give whatever project I was working on a listen and would come up with a suggestion that always played out just the way I was envisioning it.

"Why are you here?" she asked once we stopped hobbling back and forth, taking a step back to look at me with that heartwarming smile still on her face. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a stern look. "What? I can leave if you don't want me here," I shrugged, beginning to turn around, only to laugh when I feel her hand wrap around my wrist and tug me back. "You know that's not what I mean, jackass," she rolls her eyes. "I thought you were coming back tomorrow."

I tucked my hands in the pockets of my jeans, rolling my shoulders in another shrug. "Took less time than I thought to get back. Anyway, I do have a lot of unpacking to do; I just stopped by to say 'hi'." "Oh," she mumbles, and I pretend that I didn't notice the flash of disappointment on her face. "Well, I'll let you get to it. See you tomorrow like we planned?" "Of course," I grinned, and she returned the gesture in a closed-mouth smile.

We hugged before parting ways, but I stop when I open my door and glanced at her one last time. She oozed disappointment, and I knew she was bummed that I was leaving so soon. I leaned against the roof of my car with my arms folded and scrunched my lips to the side, mulling over our plans.

"Since you clearly missed me so much," I start, "why don't we change it up and have you come over tonight instead?" "Oh, no. Tomorrow is fine," she waves me off, but I can see the infamous tremor of her lips whenever she tries to hide a bashful smile. "You're probably beat from driving." "I'll be fine after a quick nap," I chuckle lightly. "8 o'clock. If for some reason I'm still asleep when you get there, just wake me up." "Great," she scoffs, her eyes rolling skyward. "So, potentially, I gotta deal with your grumpy ass because you want me to disrupt your beauty sleep." I mimic her actions with a roll of my eyes, even though I know she's joking. "See you later," I laugh, getting into my car after she says 'bye'.

Thwump.

I'm jolted awake, and there's now a dull ache on my face as I rubbed my cheek. I hear a giggle behind me, and I know that it's Jenny, so I couldn't be too mad from this unsuspecting wakeup call...even if it was by a pillow to my face.

"Hey," I croaked, rolling onto my back with a stretch. My heart flutters in my chest when I laid eyes on her cheery smile. "Morning, sunshine," she teases, plopping down on the bean bag chair. "Did you have a good sleep?" I pushed myself into a sitting position, a yawn escaping me as I nodded. She giggles again as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with my fist, surely laughing at the rat's nest my hair was.

"Do you always sleep with my shirt as your pillowcase?" She smirks, motioning her head behind me. "Huh?" I furrow my brows at her, turning my head to look down at my pillow. Sure enough, it was her shirt, and my cheeks warm at the realization that I never switched it out for an actual pillowcase like I meant to. My mind scrambled for an excuse—I can't just admit to her that yes, I did in fact use her shirt as my damn pillowcase while I was out on tour.

Why?

Because her perfume lingered on her clothing, and there was always something so soothing about her scent every time I caught wind of it. The warmth of vanilla and the calming notes of sandalwood would encase me each time we hugged, and it was simply intoxicating. Nothing comforted or calmed me down faster, so on the nights where my mind was much too loud after a show, I'd hold my pillow close, imagining it was her in my arms instead. Drinking in her scent quieted my mind faster than a glass of whiskey.

"Oh, that's your shirt? I thought it was one of my thousands of band tees." I tried to play it off; my heart leapt into my throat, hoping she wouldn't see through my bullshit. "I spilled a beer on my pillow on the bus and didn't have a clean case and grabbed a random shirt." "Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure you gave me that shirt. Makes sense that you'd think it was yours," she shrugs, turning to the blank TV screen. "So, what are we watching?"

I puffed out a breath, relieved she bought my excuse, and reached for the remote to flip on the TV. "I dunno," I yawned once more. "I haven't thought that far ahead. Whatever you wanna watch is fine with me." She takes the remote from me with a hum, starting up and scrolling through Netflix. "21 Jump Street?" "Sure," I flashed her a smile, and she happily starts the movie while I got out of bed to grab the snacks I picked up earlier. She loves gummy bears and cherry Sprite.

I tossed the gummy bears in her lap and handed her the soda when she turned her attention to me. "You didn't have to get me these, Nono," she says, but I knew by the way her eyes lit up that she was thankful for it. "I know," I shrugged and sat back down on my bed, my own drink and snack in hand. “But it’s kind of your thing, just like this is mine,” I chuckle, shaking the jar of communion wafers I held. She laughs, throwing her head back. “I can’t believe you still eat those things. You’re so fucking weird.” I raise my brows to her comment. “Yet you’re still here.” “Shut it,” she retorts, throwing one of her bears at me with that same smile she always tries to hide. I narrow my eyes at her, “Don’t make me take those away from you.”

She smirks and averts her eyes to the screen, settling back into the chair as she chews on the gummies—my stomach swirls with giddiness, just wondering what was on her mind.

We fall into a comfortable silence, nothing but the sounds of the movie and laughter filling the room. That was until I was pelted in the face, not once but twice, by a gummy bear. I slowly turned my head towards her, a phony scowl on my face as she sat there giggling away, but I couldn't keep the expression for long. Not with her, not with the way her contagious laugh ricocheted inside my head and riled up the butterflies in my gut.

I jumped from my spot on the bed and snatched her snack, holding it high over her head when she stands with a pout. “Nono, give those back!” she grumbles, standing on her toes to try to take her bears back, but to no avail. “I warned you that I’d take them away, Jenny,” I laughed, taking a step backwards. She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’ll take your Jeez-its away.” I snorted. “Go for it.”

She steps to the side and reaches out, trying to maneuver around me to grab the container lying on my bed, but I sidestepped along with her, blocking her. She sighs, throwing her head back in aggravation. “Noah, c’mon. Can I have the gummy bears back, please?” “Since you asked so nicely,” I mused, lowering my arm. She reaches for them; I fake her out and extend my arm behind me. She follows my arm with a grumble, tripping over my feet and into my chest. I instinctively wrapped an arm around her small frame, and we toppled onto my bed in a fit of laughter. “Why do you always do this shit?” she shakes her head at me, trying to contain her giggles. “Just to piss you off,” I tell her nonchalantly, even though my heart was hammering through my chest from her proximity.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, but I can’t help the tingle that courses through my veins when she does nothing but grin at me. A blush coasts across her cheeks, her green eyes illuminated by the LEDs bordering my room as she gazes at me through the sheer blanket of her golden locks. It took every fiber of my being to keep my hand from tucking the strand behind her ear and caress her face that I just knew would feel soft and supple beneath my fingertips.

“Why do you like to piss me off so much?” she snorts, moving her hands to my chest to push herself up; she slips the strand of hair behind her ear. I shrug. “Just because.” “That’s it? ‘Just because’?” she muses, her lips curling into a sly smile, and my stomach churns with nerves.

Because I love to see you smile and laugh as the outcome. I love the way your eyes glimmer and your cheeks tint from it. Because I love… you.

My heart is in my throat thinking these thoughts; I try my hardest to swallow it back down to where it belonged, but I can’t with the way she’s laying on my chest with that goddamn smile. And as apprehensive as I was at this very moment, everything felt so…right. How her small frame fit so perfectly against me, my hand settled in the curve of her back in just the right way, the way she looked at me with those alluring, doe-like eyes with affection…I had to tell her.

“You want me to be honest, Jenny?” “Always, Nono.” I cleared my throat after swallowing harshly, trying to find my voice. “Because I wanna ruin our friendship.” Her head tilts and her brows furrow, trying to understand what I meant. I watched as it clicked in her head with a small gasp, the pink tinge deepening on her cheeks when she mutters a quiet ‘Oh.’ My heart plummets to my stomach, embarrassment immediately settling in—she doesn’t feel the same. “I-I’m sorry, Jenny. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I start to sit up, but she shakes her head at me with a timid grin. “Ruin it.”

She leans closer to me just as my hand cups her cheek delicately, and our mouths crash together. Warmth spreads through my core, and relief drowns out every bit of doubt that was anchoring me down—I feel like I’m soaring as our lips moved together in beautiful synchrony. I wanted to savor every ounce of her when her intoxicating scent infiltrated me, enhancing the sweetness of her luscious lips as she allowed my tongue to taste her.

I knew she wanted this just as badly as I had when she clutched my shirt, and I couldn’t help the low chuckle from rumbling in my throat. She giggles against my lips in response, but neither of us break apart from one another—I swear we were held together by a magnetic force.

There’s a dizziness beginning to encase me and my chest burns, forgetting to breathe. Reluctantly, I separate to gather air in my lungs, and she does the same, smiling at me as she breathes deep. Her lips were plump, her eyes blown with lust, and I couldn’t help the playful grin on my face and the flutter deep in my belly knowing I did that to her.

“What took you so long?” she asks, the bashful tremor on her lips reappearing. I chuckled, trailing my thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I didn’t wanna ruin ruin our friendship, I guess.” “Give me those gummy bears back, and we’ll talk about how ruined this friendship is.” I snort, giving her a light squeeze before reaching out blindly to find the bag of gummy bears. “Here,” I place them on top of her head once I found them. They slide off, spilling all over my bed before she had a chance to stop them from falling and glowers at me. “I hate you.” “No you don’t,” I smirked, pulling her in for another kiss. “I don’t,” she mumbles against my lips, forgetting all about the spilled gummies.

#fanfic #fan fiction #noah sebastian #fanfic writing #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfic

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c0wb0yenthusiast · 11 months

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❝Sweet as pie❞

Phillip Graves x Reader

So basically me and @sarahs-secrets2 exchanged ideas and I hope I did it justice!

Summary - you're a waitress and you're dealing with a particularly cocky regular.

✮

The sun was peeking over the horizon, hazy colours still swirling in the sky as you parked outside the café and opened up for the day. It was quiet, except for the sound of cars speeding by. It was only a stop n' go after all.

Buttoning up your uniform and now stepping out to see an array of customers filling up the booths, chattering away as you passed to get your notepad from counter.

That was until you heard a distinct voice.

"Hey, doll."

Your head swivelled around quickly to meet with him.

For the past week, this cocky, smart-mouthed man had sat in the same booth. For the past seven days, playing out the same exact routine.

"God, is it just me or do we keep running into each other?", he smirked, removing his aviators from his face and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

"Hi. Again. Do you want the usual?", you rested your hands on your hips, letting out a sigh. You'd met many douchebags in this café and he wasn't any different from the rest.

"Of course. You know me so well, already. Why don't you sit down and we can get to know each other a little more?", he grinned, batting his lashes innocently up at you.

He's just another country bumpkin who's trying to get laid.

"Honey," you smiled back at him, "I'd love to have coffee and hookup in the back of your lovely little jeep parked outside, but I'm actually quite busy because I have a life. Okay?"

He took a moment to process what he heard, before breaking out into laughter.

"Honey? Oh, girl, you're just adding fuel to the fire."

You didn't respond, tapping away at the tiled floor with the sole of your foot. You wanted to stay longer, but this café, the customers and the overstimulation it brought made you bossy and unsociable.

"Ah, are you alright?", the chuckles died down and he now raised a brow at you.

"I'm fine, I just- I really need to get to work."

"Sure thing, doll. Come talk to me when you're free."

The whole time you rushed from one table to another - he was still there. Sitting idly with his cup of coffee, fumbling with the dog tag hanging around his neck. You could feel his eyes boring into you every time you passed by his booth.

He always ordered the exact same thing: 'A black coffee - and keep em coming, darling.'

After running through the majority of the day around the café, it started to quiet down and people were filing out slowly but surely. Only a couple lingered by the afternoon, including him.

Slowing your steps, you approached his table again, he seemed a little taken aback to see you once more.

"Hey."

"Hi.", you breathed, letting out the pent up air you seemed to be holding in this whole time.

"Take a seat.", he nodded in front of him, to which you obliged and attained yourself not to collapse into the booth.

"What's it like?", you blurted out loud, now setting off a panic in your head yet keeping calm - mainly due to how tired you were at the moment.

"Hm?"

"Not having to run around and serve entitled customers?"

He let out a low chuckle, "It's alright, but I'd rather be here than my job."

"How come?"

He shifted in his seat, making his biceps flex under the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

"I'm going to be deployed soon, so I just thought I might enjoy my last couple of days until work. It's nothing, really." he added, seeing the way your expression softened.

"I can't believe you just told me all that-"

"Well-"

"And I don't even know your name!"

This made him grin, before lifting off his dog tag and sliding it across the table.

You caught it clumsily, eyeing the writing.

"Phillip?"

"Mhm, now what am I supposed to call you?"

You let out a fake gasp, "Did you ever bother to read my name tag? Or were you too busy looking at my tits?"

He shrugged, definitely the second option.

"I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Before he could reply, you leaned over the table and pushed out your chest slightly, your badge shining from the dimmed rays of the sun.

Graves blinked, his eyes widening and now reading the name.

"Y/n. That was a.. forward way to ask for my number.", he now fished in his pocket, bringing out a beaten phone with a car as the background.

You snorted, still practically laying on the table to meet him, "Alright, hand it over. Maybe this will help you when you're lonely at work."

Now tapping in your number, you turned the phone over in your hand. "How come it's so broken? I thought you guys get paid."

"Of course we do, but all of that goes to my other stuff.."

".. Like?"

"I don't know, my car, food, er... My car?", he mumbled hesitantly, now listing things under his breath.

You couldn't help but laugh, "That's nice, at least you're not engrossed in your phone."

"Darling, I only have that thing to call people, I don't need it for anything else."

You weren't focusing on his voice, just now seeing the scar on his cheekbone.

"Mhm.."

He caught your lingering stare, "I'd love to tell you the story, but I think you're too special for the tactics I use on all the other women who flock to me."

You grinned, sliding his phone back at him to which he clumsily caught, "You're the one who came to me."

"Sure, darling, have it your way.", he seemed to relax in his seat, gaze still fixated onto you.

After a small amount of silence, you cocked a brow, "What?"

"hm?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no.. I was just thinking about something.."

"What is it?"

He let out an amused huff, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm bored."

"Alright.", he put his glasses back on his face, "How about we go for a ride?"

What?

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're bored and I've already paid my bill so we're off the hook-"

"But-"

"Don't fret, doll. I'll buy you dinner too, okay?"

That definitely shut you up.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #phillip graves x reader #call of duty

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renoed · 6 months

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so smitten | manager! s. kaiba x idol! reader

❥ — PAIRING manager! seto kaiba x gn! idol! reader

❥ — SUMMARY It was noticeable from the moment he was assigned to you as your manager. The way your eyes lingered on him.

# A/N a request!!! eek!! I loved writing this! Seto is just ♡♡♡ love of my LIFE

Seto Kaiba stood at the head of a long glass table, hands tucked away in the pockets of his black trousers. He was the first thing you noticed when you were ushered into the room - the only member of staff you didn't recognise. The fact he stood taller than everyone else made him difficult to miss.

You'd been sat down at the opposite end of the table and one of the senior staff members had began rambling about how your manager was moving on to a rival company. It wasn't new information; she had actually come to you before she accepted the position and you'd encouraged her to make the jump.

"We hope that you'll be able to get along with Kaiba as well as you did with Kujaku!"

The tall brunet bowed down politely to you, "I'll do my best."

As he straightened himself up again, you noticed that his rectangular glasses had slipped down his nose. A long, slender finger pushed them back up to frame deep, blue eyes. Attractive was an understatement.

You let your lips curve up, crossing one of your legs over the other, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

He didn't falter at your words, or the suggestive hum you put behind them.

It didn't take long for Seto to prove that he was a phenomenal manager - better than Mai had been, as much as you hated to admit it.

Your schedule was consistently filled, while also providing you with consistent breaks. From follower increases to sales increases, Seto seemed to know exactly how to achieve anything.

"Fuck!"

That's why it came as such a surprise for you to hear him shout from your place stood outside his door, a paper bag of doughnuts tucked under your arm and two hot drinks in your hands.

"Seto? Is everything okay?" you were lucky nobody else was in his office, dropping formalities always got you scolded. You couldn't remember when you had gotten so casual with him.

Walking into his office you were met with an unfamiliar sight: tousled hair, an untucked shirt, glasses lazily left on his desk. The room, and Seto himself, looked like a tip.

"No, this could permanently damage your career. It's the furthest thing from okay that we could possibly manage."

"Slow down a second," you placed your things down on his desk before moving to stand next to him, "what's actually happened?"

A brief moment of silence settled between you before he opens his mouth again, "dating scandal."

Oh.

You didn't think before you'd asked, "between me and who?"

He tilted his phone so he could show you the screen, free hand moving to massage his temples, unwilling to look towards you.

Oh.

Any words of encouragement dropped away at the realisation that it was a photo of you and him on the screen. He's holding an umbrella over the pair of you and you're laughing at something, smile hidden behind your hand. If you squint you can see the hint of a smile on his own lips.

You remembered when that was taken: Seto had been particularly nit-picky with your performances and was telling you all his 'constructive criticism' without a single positive comment. Normally you wouldn't have batted an eye - that's just how he is - but it had really upset you and, in a rage, you decided you'd walk yourself home in the pouring rain because you couldn't bear to be in a car with him.

The pattering of rain on the pavement had completely drowned out any other sound around you, except when a car drove past and narrowly avoided getting you absolutely drenched. You weren't very far off anyway.

"You're being childish."

Seto's voice was barely audible above the rain but it was loud enough to make you stop in your tracks and wait for him. The tap of his business shoes against the pavement was unheard as he walked over to you, only stopping a couple of paces behind. In his left hand was an umbrella.

"You'll catch a cold-"

"I don't think it's childish to be upset when all you ever give me is negative feedback," came your mumbled reply, "is that all you see in me? The worst parts of my performance?"

You waited for him to make a snide retort; something about you being sensitive or unfit for being an idol. It didn't come.

Instead, the umbrella he had been holding above himself was outstretched to you. It was difficult not to break into a small smile at the action: Seto Kaiba was useless with pretty words but he knew how to make his actions count.

"I'm sorry," the words were stiff and he bowed slightly, still holding the umbrella above you as rain trickled down his hair, dropping onto his glasses and falling from the tip of his nose.

"You'll catch a cold."

Anybody else would have missed the way his eyes widened as you gently pushed on the umbrella, stepping towards him until you were both covered from the rain.

"Well, that should be easy to manage, right? Just put out a statement about how I'm being escorted by a member of my staff?" this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, a collaboration with solo-artist ATEM had created rumours immediately. You weren't sure what made this situation any different.

Seto didn't spare you a glance, just shoved his phone into your grasp and buried his face further into his hands.

The original photo had been captioned 'Them ♡: a 🧵' and beneath it were countless photos of you and Seto.

Standing together at a shoot in the winter, your hands in fluffy mittens wrapped around his. Red dusted his cheeks and at the time you had just brushed it off as the cold.

Talking together at an event, both dressed to the nines with amicable smiles on your lips.

It went on and on and on: him handing you coffee; you poking fun at him; eating at a restaurant together (although other staff members were there).

It was when you reached the last post - a short video with a screenshot next to it, captioned 'so smitten', that you began to understand.

Taken from fairly early into his role as manager, you're both stood with some other staff. They're talking to the small group about something and you glance away from the speaker to look at Seto. He does the exact same.

This moment of you catching his gaze is what has been screenshot. It's an unspoken softness that makes your stomach twist and throat tighten.

"I'm sorry," his voice was barely a murmur, eyes unwilling to meet yours, "I'm not sure how to fix this."

You had never seen him look weak before. Now he was sitting next to you, hunched over with a creased shirt, tie hanging loose and hair standing up in every direction. It felt ironic that the sight made your heart catch in your throat. You put the phone down on his desk.

"Maybe I don't want to fix it."

The words were unsure and shaky as they left your lips, but they were loud enough for Seto to hear.

"That's ridiculous- did you not hear me say this could permanently damage your career? This isn't just a joke for us to laugh at in a few months-"

Before he has chance to continue his rant, your hands grasp at the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, lips clashing together messily. He stiffens for a second before kissing you back, only to pull away a few moments later.

"Let me be childish this time: I don't want to fix it."

The damage was done already; the rumours had already started. There was little you could do except entirely remove Seto from your staff, which was a none-option for you anyway.

You lightly tug on his collar again, "are you okay with that?"

His hands gently move to clasp your wrists, pulling you into him wordlessly until your lips meet again. More than okay, is what you settled on as his answer.

reblogs are hugely appreciated ♡ [masterlist]

#renoed #renoed; yugioh #yugioh #seto kaiba x reader #seto x reader #yugioh seto kaiba #yugioh seto #seto kaiba #x reader #reader insert #kaiba yugioh #yugioh kaiba #kaiba #seto kaiba yugioh

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